sort-of voice-test for a sort-of oc.

[scryinghope]

Please don't.

Yes, I know that won't stop you. I don't even need to be in your head to know that. I also happen to know that a little bit of pleading will at least make you feel guilty while you put me through all the things you're planning.

You see? It worked. At least now I can suffer with the petty vindictiveness of knowing that a fictional character made you feel bad. I'm like that on occasion.

Comments

[scryinghope]

Not at all. This way, we get to mock you incessantly without having to actually go through all the pain and suffering involved in being involved.

[skeletonenigma]

You can't read my mind, and no doubt the utter inanity of your existence as a dead person has addled your memory, so let me make this perfectly clear - do you remember the last time I've ever been bored, Descry?

[scryinghope]

Well, if you want some excitement you could always go and spar with Uriel.

[skeletonenigma]

I didn't say excited. I said bored. Do you remember the last time I've ever been bored, Descry?

[scryinghope]

I'm offering you Heavenly ways of not being bored, since that seems to concern you so much about arriving there.

But you could always try bonking your angel.

[He says this with a perfectly straight face, which is hard when Larrikin is laughing himself sick in the background of mun's headspace.]

[skeletonenigma]

That would certainly pass the time, but my angel does still have Heavenly duties, what with being an Archangel and all. I think I prefer monopolizing his time down here.

[scryinghope]

Probably just as well. I'm fairly sure the Hashmallim would have conniptions otherwise.

[skeletonenigma]

Then we all agree that me entering Heaven is a bad idea? Excellent.

[scryinghope]

'That depends on how hard you're planning on bonking your angel.'

I don't suppose you could help me exorcise the Larrikin on my shoulder? These are imaginings I really don't need.

[skeletonenigma]

That depends. Exactly how much of this hypothetical bonking has he seen?

[scryinghope]

None of it. But you do owe me. He's still complaining about me yanking the plug.

[skeletonenigma]

Then I am deeply in your debt, but I haven't the foggiest how to exorcise him. Maybe you could try throwing peanuts at him.

[scryinghope]

Tried that. It started something I didn't intend. Incidentally, if you decide to properly die and come to Heaven by the turn of the century, we ought to be having our two-hundredth annual Peanut Skirmish.

[skeletonenigma]

Do I want to know what other traditions he's started?

[scryinghope]

Well, there's the Painting of the Gates, for one.

[skeletonenigma]

The Painting of the - oh. Oh no.

What colour?

[scryinghope]

It was a combination of them, really. A combination of colours which spelled out 'welcome home Descry'.

Now apparently people argue over who gets to paint the welcome banners.

[skeletonenigma]

What was Heaven like before Larrikin got there?

[scryinghope]

It was about the same, actually. Except that Metatron didn't have a running rivalry with persons unknown trying to sneak into his office and steal all his quills.

[skeletonenigma]

Let me guess. Rover wanted the quills because he was trying to paint turkey pictures and needed something for the tails.

[scryinghope]

However did you guess?

[skeletonenigma]

I'm very good at guessing.

[scryinghope]

For the record: It wasn't my fault.

[skeletonenigma]

I guessed that too.

[scryinghope]

Because naturally I didn't make the suggestion as a joke knowing, with complete certainty, that he would follow up on the idea.