EARTH 24*(&A$%7HGKPOI

[capemods]

WHO: All transdimensional imPorts.
WHERE: The town of Capers.
WHEN: October 24th, noon, to October 29th, noon.
WARNINGS: Probably violence, but alert me if something else evolves and I can update this.
SUMMARY: Lachesis pulls a group of Cityverse imPorts into another world adventure -- here be the wilds of the west, and dinosaurs!
FORMAT: As you please!



You arrive at the town of Capers from one split second to the next -- from the asphalt and concrete of the City to the dusty and earthen dirt of this wildwood space. The sun is hot and the sky is streaked with thin clouds. The landscape of the town is sparse, utilitarian; you'll find saloons and dance halls, quarries and fenced corrals, the local gaol and the hanging scaffold, the shops and medical facilities (barbershop included). In fact, the logwood architecture of the buildings direct into those four major categories, and the structure of the town forms something circular, much like a compass. You might have been ported in at any of these places, as Lachesis would have delivered you at random.

The sun in the sky burns a golden yellow, peering down at you like some celestial eyeball. Almost feels like it's watching you.

You're wearing your clothes and you've got your communicator on you, but that's about it. You can still contact the Network, but you cannot leave this world. And since you look like such an outsider, it takes only a few moments for you to be ushered by local Samaritans to the Capers Town Hall. There, in his white suit and black belt, stands Mayor Eisner -- and he greets you warmly. He tells you that Capers is used to extradimensional pioneers, and he's happy to invite you into his town. But for a town like his to survive at this unilateral crossroads, certain customs must be observed -- you understand, there's a method of expectation that enables order. You might catch glimpses of other imPorts filing in, being escorted by the kindly souls they came across. Mayor Eisner asks you your name and your favorite color. He asks you if you're a spiritual individual, or more secular. He asks you about the first animal that comes into your mind.

Then he ponders your face for a moment.

Then, with a strong and genuine pat on your shoulder, he tells you who you are, in his town of Capers.

You are free to reject or accept the role, but that all comes with respective consequences.

Welcome to Capers, hero.

Comments

[enigmaestro]

"Because of someone's package," he said, almost daring Eridan to exploit the obvious innuendo. If Edward was going to endure the humiliation of this demoralizing position, he was at least going to make everyone else as uncomfortable as possible. That included his sociopathic protege who (in all likelihood) would carve out more opportunity to mock the reformed criminal.

"Anyway, once I caught sight of your withering despair, I knew I ought to stop by. The charitable thing to do, isn't it?" Calling his mentorship with Eridan and its subsequent interaction a charity? That's got to be an intended insult. Eddie smirked lightly after speaking, his lips almost obscured by the brown liquor hitting them.

[amoray]

"Somebody's feelin' fiesty tonight," Eridan drawled back thickly, relegating the barb to a mere fit of pique on Eddie's part. "All that manual labor got your blood runnin' hot again? I know it's been a while since you really done anythin' and all."

Whatever that implied (that Eddie's political career was unimportant, that anything outside of villainy or crime wasn't worth his regard), Eridan let it hang to attend to another customer - the man was yet another grizzled, squinty, and unshaven type, the kind that made off-color comments about the off color of Eridan's hair. It wasn't the first time of the night, if the purpling bruise on his cheekbone was anything to go by, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

That didn't mean he was just going to take it, either.

Eridan waited until the man turned around to spit in his glass, and then held it out to Eddie in an offer for him to do the same. Maybe not the best choice, considering the current mood between them, but his ire had since shifted.

[enigmaestro]

Edward shot a look -- critical, wary -- and declined to spit in the man's drink. He pulled back his shoulders, frowning in the thinnest possible way; the expression was judgmental without posing any severely patronizing tones.

"You're better than that. You can do better than that," he chided. Gently. Eddie could see that this man posed the scapegoat for whatever frustration Eridan might have been building against him; the water behind a damn flowing down a fresh aqueduct. It was opportunity.

Nothing mollified prickled wounds like mutual dislike directed to a third.

"Go on, examine him. Pick out his weaknesses."

[amoray]

Eridan paused at that, expression heady and momentarily perplexed, before reaching up to press thumb and forefinger to the corners of his eyes. Bravado or not, he had intended to stop at some earlier point, but facing any and all significant emotional discomfort sober (weeping into his scarf and/or a vaguely willing shoulder) had been entirely relegated to an embarrassing, shameful past.

When the room had stopped its lazy spin, or at least slowed it down, he spoke again.

"He's got a limp. He's a squintin' type. He's got his back to me." Then, his train of thought apparently switching onto a more violent rail: "I could go ower the bar and - nah, too attention grabbin'. He'd turn around. I could walk around all casual-like, throw him down, break some ribs, crush his organs. No. I'd wait 'til he got into the crowd proper, come up behind him, and rip his fuckin' eyes out."

A beat, as he dropped his hand, meeting Eddie's eyes again.

"If I wanted to be dramatic."

[enigmaestro]

Eddie grinned, glancing over Eridan as the teenager spoke.

"You've got an eye for physical damage," he said. "Which is all well and good, Eridan, we both appreciate the merit of your tangible dramatics. But how would you oppose him unseen?"

A teachable moment, he might argue. A wholesome and valuable manipulation of the time they conspired together -- Eddie sense that Eridan was at a dilemma, a stage of youthful aggravation. It was best, he reasoned, to utilize that wrathful energy and force it into proper channels.

Like the art of analysis and destruction.

"He's likely insecure about his disabilities, don't you think? Perhaps a bit paranoid in his conspicuous image."

[amoray]

"Obwiously," came the drawled response, although this was more in line with pomp, not aggression. "Why else would he go pissin' off at the mouth about how somebody else looks? Strikin' mark a insecurity there."

The irony of being a vicious elitist hipster and saying that went unnoticed.

"Workin' class. Probably came from a poor kinna background, if the town's any hint. I bet his dad got eaten by a welociraptor on the job, and he's pissed off at the world about that. I'm still pretty pissed off about my lusus, an' it's only been a couple sweeps. He's probably been bottlin' that shit for decades."

[enigmaestro]

"Oh, that's harsh." Edward smirked, rolling his tongue in his mouth -- perhaps as an attempt to restrain any further comment. This was, after all, Eridan's experiment. He was there to guide, to support. But he liked how the teenager worked with emotional material.

Hope manipulation wasn't a bad rooting, and Eridan has learned so much from it.

"So his loss could be perceived as self-inflicted, however irrational, and he compensates?"

It was if they were creators before a chunk of clay.

[enigmaestro]

Shrugging, Eddie turned his attention back to the crowd, skimming over Eridan's facial intensity.

"I like that you're learning," he said. Sincerely. This was a moment severed open, raw and honest, unique in its history. Perhaps it was the unadulterated variant universe whiskey, perhaps Eddie was allowing his guard to shift downward. "I do. And I understand how my method with you could, easily, be perceived as -- ah -- cruel."

Not dicing the words on that one. Despite the weight in his tone, he still kept his eyes averted from Eridan's.

"But look what I've done; look at you! Competent in ways that hardly anyone would have accused you of, years ago. It's remarkable, Eridan."

Finally, he locked eyes.

"It's encouraging."

[amoray]

As soon as the topic moved back to Eridan himself, his eyes broke off from the surly stranger's back, dipping down to some spot on Eddie's dino express themed sleeve. It was these soft moments that were always the most hazardous, comparatively; Eddie's jeering derision had never been much of an issue, and Eridan could cower with the best of them when it seemed necessary, could even do it with some real conviction. (Mostly because he usually wasn't acting.) Anger, humiliation, even miserable pain, he could handle those. The back of Eddie's hand, metaphorically or otherwise, had become a familiar constant.

It was when Eddie was nice that bothered him the most, comparatively, because that wasn't how it was supposed to be between them. Respect was a thing Eridan had to win, affection had to be earned so it could be weaponized and rubbed in Eddie's face later. And in his current state, that being kind of hammered, Eridan came the closest he'd ever come to rethinking that set of surgical instruments sitting in his tarped up penthouse. Was it really so bad, letting Eddie think he'd broken him, that he'd won? Did it matter, as long it wasn't true?

Giving no indication how close to deciding Eddie's fate he was, Eridan brought a hand up to palm the back of his neck, glancing up in time to meet the man's eyes.

"Yeah," he said, and it sounded tired. "I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't come along, Ed. S'the truth. You're..." You're important to me? Even hammered, that was way too honest. And while he'd learned the importance of honesty since coming to the City, he'd also learned the importance of slanting it. Too much praise and affection wouldn't line up with the guarded, distant respect he'd grown into these past months, and risked Eddie digging into his impaired state for more. Too little would tip him off to something potentially being wwrong, and one ill-phrased sentence could bring the whole thing down around Eridan's horns. "I reely appreciate it. Ewerythin'."

And that was true, too. He couldn't deny the effect Eddie's tutelage had had on his life, had long since considered where he might've ended up without it. Some snotty alien punk living on the fringes of human society in some ill-advised attempt to buck it, probably. Or dead. Even the abuse he could appreciate, in a very Alternian way, and he almost said that exact thing - realizing it, or that some sloppy drunken I platonically lovve you confession was on the tip of his tongue, he shifted gears.

"You would of made a good troll," Eridan cut in abruptly, slurring, eying some distant spot on the ceiling with something like thoughtfulness. "If I ewer... I dunno, if I end up not bein' here at some kinda point, or somethin', you oughta know that. You're the best a what your species has to offer. I'm lucky I got to know it."