dear_mun | App'd to maskormenace, voicetesting

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App'd to maskormenace, voicetesting

I am too old for this. No, really, I am; at this point I should practically carry around some sod with me so I can put it in front of people and then tell them to get off my lawn.

While I understand your enthusiasm for writing, as it mirrors my children's preoccupations with other art forms, and I am not totally averse to the idea of being of help to others, you have to concede I am not the sort typically seen at the place you've chosen. There's my age, a point which I think you're greatly overlooking, and then there's the fact that you are putting me in the sole game you have found where anti-Russian sentiment is the norm among the populous. In case the surname was insufficient to clue you in, I am Russian. I am also too old to play the game of international politics. I scarcely even play at internal politics.

If I agree to go along with this I want two promises: firstly, no romance. I am a married man and thank God my dating days are over, let them stay that way. Secondly, no war. These are non-negotiable points.

[And what'll you do if I ignore them?]

I'm a father of four. I will do what I have done for decades at this point: be disappointed and lecture you on how I thought higher of you.

It doesn't sound like much, but it will break you. Trust me, I know of what I speak.

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[ Well this is both a familiar and an unfamiliar face at once. He really doesn't like being pushed into this but fuck you Oisin. ]

I believed there wouldn't be any romance either when I was dumped in one of those godforsaken 'games' they carry out around here. Didn't work out that way. They like finding the worst possible places to put us, but god. A place with a bunch of Anti-Russian peddling? Fuck that noise.

[For what it's worth this is just as awkward on the other end, Oisin. What do you even say to your dead son's boyfriend who he met in the (technically speaking) afterlife?]

That was different. You were not married, Gospodin Oisin, and as far as I know you have yet to propose to my youngest. [Slight judgment there. Serious commitment needs to be made before Anatoly's going to let his guard down about his youngest son having a relationship with a man. It's nothing personal.] I am, and I have no need of a love besides my beloved Miryema. Even if I were single, I am also considerably older than you. No woman should have to put up with me, they suffer enough at these games already.

Yes, well. If I understand things correctly, apparently the 'Cold War' I've heard of happening in other worlds has not ended there, so. This will be about as fun as the Russian Civil War was. [Said with the straightest of faces. Anatoly's snark game is strong.]

[ He can pick up on that hint of 'marry my son already'. It's rare you met a partner's parents who clearly wanted a marriage to happen and encouraged you to propose. Especially when Oisin personally thought Evgeniy could still do better. ]

That is true. And I see where Evgeniy's gotten his 'people put up with me' catchphrase from now. I'll bet it's just as unfounded. I'll ask Miryema myself. [ That's a thing with Eldarovs isn't it? Except for Savvin. ]

Ah, the Cold War. Yeah that's...yeah your mun's being a right so-and-so, dropping you into that mess. Mine's not much better, given they've put Ash into a game now and it's painful to watch.

[Oh, Evgeniy could, but Evgeniy didn't want better, he wanted Oisin. Anatoly can relate to that - Miryema could have done better, but she wanted Anatoly. There's something nostalgic and sweet to the young love. He just wants to make sure Oisin is serious, and that means an actual tangible commitment.]

If Miryema shows up here she'll be too busy trying to feed you and tell you stories of Evgeniy's youth for you to get a word in. [The fondest smile. His wife is so awesome that for a moment, even the prospect of games can't infringe of his happiness.]

Your son is in a game. And now, you know how I feel with Evgeniy at Nautilus, especially without even you there to look after him. I suppose I should be grateful he has gotten another chance at life after... how it ended. But you have my sympathies, Gospodin Oisin. It can't be easy having him so far away from you.

[The other Eldarov family trait: prioritizing other people's issues above your own. Particularly if kids are involved.]

Well, I wouldn't dream of interrupting her. [ Of course he'd want to hear about Evgeniy's childhood. Miryema really is a treasure. Much like his own ma; a woman who wouldn't take anyone's shit but was sweet as could be, as long as you don't test her. ]

I never realised it would be so hard... But, the thing is; Evgeniy's sensible. And there's plenty of good, sensible people back in Nautilus who'll take care of him. Ash is not sensible at all and has yet to meet a single adult I'd trust with his care. He's already stolen a creature from some town and gotten chased out of it, punched a bunch of people who tried to steal things from him and is planning to fuck around with a company that's producing flawed artificial life.

If the boy doesn't turn me grey by 40 it'll be a fucking miracle.

Evgeniy is not as sensible as he would like you to think. Nor is he the first Eldarov man to decide the time and date of his death. There is depression in our veins, and to ignore that is to ignore a fundamental part of who both he and I are, as it comes from a place of tenderness and optimism betrayed too often by reality. [Young man, don't brush off his worry for his son or he'll lose his sympathy for you swiftly. Anatoly isn't as snappy verbally as Miryema can be, but his children and grandchildren are his berserk button.

That said, he does sigh, conceding the point about Ash with a nod.] Yes, well, youth makes many things seem like a good idea without proper guidance, and sometimes even with it. Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do from here. You just have to trust that you raised him right and that God will watch over him.

I assumed you were using selkie magic to keep the grays out. That's what I would do if I had magic and Miryema didn't find the white streak 'charming'. [He does air quotes, looking baffled. How his wife finds something that odd endearing is beyond him.]

...I didn't realise it ran in your family. He only mentioned it once, in the middle of a panic attack. [ He had wanted to bring it up again at some point, but his major concern at the time had been to calm Evgeniy down and get him out of the head space he had been in. He didn't know much about helping someone with those kinds of mental problems either. But it didn't put him off Evgeniy; he just, didn't know how best to help. He averted his eyes, disappointed in himself. ]

I'm sure God's watching over Evgeniy too. Nautilus is...well, it's kind of a mess at times. But most of the people there are good.

And no, that would require me to be constantly thinking about my hair. I'd say the white streak looks dignified. There's a term for that sort of look in the western world, so she's not alone. [ And honestly, he has no complaints if Evgeniy ends up being a silver fox. ]

My cousins Ieronim and Praskoviya, my uncle Toma, my niece Marina, my grandfather Saveli... it is not a lineage to be proud of. We do not discuss it often, honestly. Perhaps if I had not made that decision, Evgeniy wouldn't have felt so trapped. We may never know. [He'd certainly gone over it in his head time and again after Evgeniy died. If he had sat his son down and really discussed it, all the reality and weight of the action, would it have helped Evgeniy understand how bad of an option it was? Or would he have only grown more depressed if he knew the real ways in which his relatives had died? They lived in cruel times and Anatoly had thought he was shielding his son from it but keeping details hidden, not getting into discussions about them. Maybe that had only isolated his son more, made him sure of his hopelessness when he had the thought.

Well. All the regrets in the world can't bring back the dead. Even here where the dead stay amongst the living, it cannot take back the bullet Evgeniy put through his own head any more than it could take back the water Marina had drowned herself in.] I hope so. I just - I simply wish, if it were possible, that I could be there. It isn't easy, not knowing what his future holds, and knowing I can't reach out to him.

Ugh. Congratulations, you join the litany of in-laws who have betrayed me to side with her. I will remember this day, Gospodin Fox. [Mock threats, because this mood is getting way too heavy otherwise.]

You don't look very old. [Dickie fidgets with his plastic camera before smiling.]

That's very kind of you to say. But I am 57, which my children inform me is quite old indeed.

You're older than me! Older than Dickie. [He's about forty though he's so unsettling it's hard to pin an age on him.]

Why do you look sooo young?

At a guess? It may be because my mother and her family age very well. My own father actually looks his age, but all the men on my mother's side, as well as the women, look very youthful all things considered.

Oh... that's good. Looking young, really young like that. [Dickie scared a bunch of people pretty badly and he's nervous about talking to anyone. But his mun made him!]

Dickie has to talk to someone...

[A lot of Dickie's mannerisms remind Anatoly of people whose minds weren't quite right, damaged by the horrors of war. He isn't scared; rather, he find himself trying to be sympathetic and keep his voice soft, as best he can.]

Well, you may talk to me, if you wish. I have nowhere else to be.

[Dickie hasn't been in a war but he's been a prostitute for at least fifteen years, even now, looking like this and of course he struggles a lot with getting customers these days, he works for a very abusive boss and then also taking a lot of drugs. He's not always sweet himself but he's not nearly as scary as he looks.]

Thank you... not fucking pretty enough to be outside. [He's just so nervous!!]

People think Dickie kills people too. [He's not sure why and he doesn't know what to do about it. His mun won't let him stay in his pink room. Dickie's really overwhelmed!]

You look fine to me, for whatever that is worth, [he says reassuringly. His brother Yulian often curses a blue streak when anxious, and seeing it in Dickie means Anatoly lowers his voice, trying to soothe over whatever is brewing in the other man's head.]

People think untrue things all the time. That is not your fault.

Dickie's never done that... just a little fuck dolly. [Dickie tends to cuss a lot, a bit of a strange combination with those pigtails! But he calms down just a bit because of how calm the other is being. Dickie's not used to anyone actually... just... talking to him like he's a normal person. It confuses him but it's a bit soothing as well.]

Your suit's nice. Fancy.

[Anatoly shudders. He has a deep disgust in his heart for men who harm other men in such a manner, but there is little he can do here to help this man out. It isn't as if he can take him and put him somewhere he could be helped and treated better; he doesn't have control over the situation. But:] You are assuredly more than that in my eyes. You are a person, the same as anyone else.

Uh, thank you. It is more or less required for doctors where I live to dress nicely. I do my best. [At this point dressing this way is automatic, more than anything. A function of the formality of his society.]

Oh... [Dickie likes his work, when he has customers, but in general it's a terrible situation, especially with the way his boss treats him and taking so much drugs he can't even see straight half the time. His mun thought it would be good if he met new people who aren't his boss but so far he's just been scaring everyone with his face, his staring and his creepy, squeaky toy camera.]

Dickie's- Dickie has to dress nice too. Are you really a doctor? [He's a bit scared of doctors, he knows he's sick. His hands are very infected with something, that's why he wears gloves. He also gets terrific tummy aches sometimes.]

Edited 2017-06-04 20:01 (UTC)

[Anatoly offers a small smile of encouragement. The skittish nature of Dickie's personality brings out his protective instincts, and he chooses his words carefully.] Yes, I am. And at the place my mun has sent me to, I apparently have healing powers, too. If you ever have need of my services, you just have to ask and I will do what I can to help. But if you don't want me to, I promise not to so much as lay a hand on you, alright?

N-no, Dickie's not sick, don't worry! [He'd lose what customers he still has if it got out that he has such infected hands. He smiles veryyy nervously at him, idly twirling one of his small and unwashed pigtails.]

You don't have to put Dickie down yet, for being sick. Infected. Not Dickie. Fuck off! [That's so rude, Dickie. But he's just scared.]

I do not put anyone down. I took an oath when I became a doctor to do no harm, and I take that very seriously. My job is to heal the harm others have done, sir. Nothing else. [He keeps his voice level, meeting Dickie's eyes with his own gray ones calmly.] Do you understand? I don't hurt people. I only heal them.

You don't have to... not sick. [Dickie's wide blue eyes betray that he's not entirely convinced by this doctor's words. Then, he returns to smiling.]

Maybe- maybe you can fix Dickie's big nose up though.

If you aren't sick, then I won't do anything. If you want me to take a look at something, I will, but I will not touch you unless you say it's alright. Are we clear? [He keeps eye contact, trying to convey his sincerity as best he can.]

... ...no... [Dickie is actually in a lot of pain, tummy aches and itchy, infected skin on his hands, not to mention a badly healed harelip, that's why his upper lip is like that, but he can't bring himself to trust a doctor. The doctors back home only send you back in bag.]

Why are you nice to Dickie?

I'm nice to you because you're a person. It is no more complex than that. Everyone deserves to be treated well, even if we are very different people. I don't need another reason to be nice to someone.

...people have not been kind to you, have they. [It's less of a question and more of a sad statement.] I am sorry. I hope people here, at least, will treat you better.

[Dickie has never been treated well, maybe when he was younger and a little prettier but even then he'd been a bit slow and it's unlikely he's ever had a nice life. That's why he's so pushy and clingy with younger men, though it's easy enough for them to run from or trick Dickie. He's not even good at being scary.]

No... never had any nice men treating Dickie like a princess. [That'd be his ideal, a rich bloke buying him sweets and nice things. Other than that, he's not even treated halfway decently.]

Not- not here either. [He's been threatened quite a few times! There's a lot of reluctance having to talk to someone new.]

I am sorry, to hear that people here haven't been better to you. I would have hoped that being away from your old situation might open the door for things to get improve. But to me, this is not royal treatment. Everyone should be good to each other, I think. The world needs more kindness in it.

If there is anything I can do to help, tell me. I will do what I can. [Which looks like it won't be much, honestly, but he can't help but make the offer. It's the only moral thing to do.]

No... they don't like Dickie. [Dickie clearly has a harder time talking about that because he hoped that as well. But it's hard to look past his very unsettling appearance, he's not easy to look at then the nervous, clearly insane mannerisms don't help.]

Ooh. You don't have to help! You don't have to...

[He's gone a bit shy on him now and Dickie needs a little fingersuck moment to calm down, another rather worrying habit.]

Mmmf.

[He cringes. He can't help it. Everything about Dickie's behavior indicates a history of abuse and it's equal parts disconcerting and angering, but he can't express his anger at whoever did this to this man, because he might interpret it as anger at him. What this person clearly needs is a psychologist, or perhaps a woman doctor who wouldn't read as threatening, someone with a better poker face who wouldn't be grossed out by this behavior.

Since no such person is available, he takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders.] I apologize. I did not mean to make you upset. It's alright. For as long as I am present, you are safe, I assure you.

[Dickie wouldn't understand, no. Any anger will be met with flinching and, very likely, Dickie waddling off! He gets yelled at and hit by his boss more than enough to accept it from a stranger.

It'd be good for him to talk to someone but he may get angry as well, he does have a temper when something goes 'bad', though it's more cussing and throwing things than anything too dangerous. He finishes sucking his gloved finger and then looks at him with a nervous grin.] Not... not upset, Dickie expected they'd be scared of Dickie.

[No he didn't. He tried being friendly and sweet and it just didn't work.]

Dickie's so pretty it's scary. [He's just trying to be brave now.]

[The only time Anatoly raised a fist to anyone was during the First World War. He would never strike someone who is clearly the victim of, at a minimum, sexual and physical abuse. There is just something wrong with the fact that people would do such things to someone else, until they reduced a person to this state. It makes him want to go find whoever is responsible and the police, in that order.]

People may not understand you clearly. You do not speak the way most people do, and so they are drawing the wrong conclusions. It is not your fault.

N...no. Dickie can say 'I' but it's fucking hard. [Dickie tries to explain, the way he's dressed and the use of third person are all because acting and dressing like a child and playing with toys feels safe for him. His little room where he works is all pink and unicorns. He uses a lot of drugs as well, coke and pills. Those do make him a bit tantrum-y.]

Trying to be cute and pretty... for the customers too.

Do you like the pigtails?

The people here are not 'customers' of yours. They may not understand the reasons why you are acting as you do. I doubt anyone here genuinely dislikes you.

I... I don't particularly like men, honestly. Cute and pretty are not things I look for. [Oh, God. There's a part of him, the internalized homophobia part of him, that wants to be violently, copiously ill. A lot of things about Dickie makes his skin crawl, frankly, but he keeps it to himself, trying to remind himself this man is not right in the head and deserves his sympathy, not his disgust.] What matters is what you like. You should do what makes you happy, not what makes others happy.

[Dickie makes most people feel ill but at the same time it's probably a little endearing that he's really talking to someone, using his words and trying to follow a conversation rather than just staring creepily. This is probably the nicest anyone has ever been to him, even if he's only being polite to Dickie.]

No... they're not Dickie's customers. [Being away from his boss means he doesn't really need customers anymore but that'll take a very long time for Dickie to get.]

...oh. [But then, did he really think a doctor would ever be interested in Dickie? He hasn't washed his hair in weeks! He blinks at those words. No cuteness? No pigtails?? No dressy? Impossible. Dickie definitely dresses like this for Dickie.] The pigtails are sooo important! Never take them out, not ever.

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App'd to maskormenace, voicetesting

SURPRISE

Hi not-quite-son-in-law!

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