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

[impudentsongbird]

Hello. I'd just like you to know that I'm feeling somewhat hen-pecked right now.

[skeletonenigma]

Are you? I can't imagine why. Is there any chance you could put Larrikin, and therefore Descry, on a leash?

[impudentsongbird]

I can try, but they'd only use it as more ammunition. I think it's true what they say about quiet ones. Rover is terrible, but Descry only encourages him. I think the novelty of not having to hide what he can do has gone to his head.

[skeletonenigma]

How would they use a leash as ammunition?

[scryinghope]

Rover is already making remarks about your angel developing a harem of seventy-two virgins.

Gabe is pointing out that his being included in that number is where the analogy breaks down.

Rover would like to know if arrival in Heaven is sanctifying enough to restore his virginity, and if so, why didn't he know this earlier so he could spend it on Earth and then re-arrive in Heaven again?

And I'm wondering if I can get headaches when I'm already dead. Is your mun's head this noisy?

[skeletonenigma]

Occasionally. Not all the time. I'd invite you over, but...

[scryinghope]

I'm not sure that sort of transplant is quite possible. Besides, she already has a version of me.

[skeletonenigma]

She certainly doesn't seem to think so.

[scryinghope]

She's almost as biased as you are.

[skeletonenigma]

What a pair we make.

[scryinghope]

There's probably a reason you're in her head.

[skeletonenigma]

I've given a lot of thought to this, actually. She has too, I believe.

[scryinghope]

I know. I was being polite.

[skeletonenigma]

You? Polite? I never thought I'd see the day.

[scryinghope]

I do occasionally deign to see you lesser beings as worth my courtesy.

[skeletonenigma]

Lesser beings? I'm sorry, which one of us was the idiot who turned over a dead body before securing the crime scene or, God forbid, actually investigating?

[scryinghope]

I didn't say I wasn't an idiot. Just that I was a superior being, obviously.

[skeletonenigma]

Had I done the same thing, I wouldn't have died.

[scryinghope]

You're a skeleton. That automatically makes you lesser. You have no brain or heart, for starters.

[skeletonenigma]

And yet, I can leap off waterfalls without fear of being killed, or even drastically impaired. You touched a body, and you were dead within minutes. By any civilisation's definition, you are not the superior being.

[scryinghope]

Wasn't there a bunch of books about this? About a man who goes around putting pieces of his soul in objects so that he couldn't die, much like your soul is attached to nothing more than a pile of bones?

What happened to him in the end, again?

[skeletonenigma]

He survived, thrived, and went on to become the superior being. They probably named a restaurant after him.

[scryinghope]

I think we're talking about different books. The bloke I'm thinking of died horribly and alone from his own magic backlashing after failing to fight off a horde of school-children.

[skeletonenigma]

Well, there's your problem. Were I ever to fight off a horde of school-children, I wouldn't fail. The very first thing I'd do was make sure my arch-nemesis was actually dead myself.

[scryinghope]

Whenever did you read Harry Potter?

Or who read it to you, as the case may be?