control_freak: (Where proud you stand)
Foster Van Denend ([personal profile] control_freak) wrote in [community profile] lostcarnival2017-02-13 04:44 pm

[Closed] I forgot to include a title so now there's not one

Who: Foster van Denend and Annabelle Blishwick
What: Annabelle, new to the carnival, meets her sketchy undead roommate
When: Post Atlantis.
Where: Trailer 18

In spite of the Ring Master's insistence that he neither retire in the barn nor have any kind of privacy--the consequence of daring to ask TO sleep in the barn and then making the mistake of explaining why--Foster actually hasn't had a roommate for a little while now.

Long enough for him to have disregarded the potential for one to arrive at any time. And long enough to have earned exactly 780 pieces of Atlantean gold by means of aggressive commercial self-degradation. 780 gold coins that are now spread haphazardly across literally every available surface inside trailer 18, as well as the trailer floor. Literal drifts of coins rise in the corners, and there are clear paths where the scant foot traffic of one (1) idle necromancer have scattered them aside.

An idle necromancer who is, at the moment, less "idle" and more "asleep on a pile of coins, which happens to also be his bed."

No, the undead don't usually sleep.

But. Well, they do get bored.
forkedroad: (pic#6908456)

[personal profile] forkedroad 2017-02-14 12:52 am (UTC)(link)
Annabelle opens the door carefully, for a few reasons.

She's never really lived with anyone besides her mentor, who was some crazy old wizard and her only real mirror for social behavior. She can't imagine what people who aren't him are like, exactly, besides the distant memory of her family, or her bullying peers. It's not that she's scared, though, exactly—she's just a little anxious. And maybe little excited.

The other reason is because you never know what the hell a person could be up to. She'd learned not to barge through rooms when it had resulted in one or nine instances wherein there was a small explosion or similar disaster due to her startling the hermit.

Suffice to say, she was not prepared to find a half naked man passed out on a bed of golden coins. Her eyes widen, and she presses her hands over her mouth in surprise, and she can't help but gasp. She soon notices there's gold—fucking everywhere, and she gapes in shock for a moment.

Then, she begins to laugh.

"What in the world?"

Her voice can barely be registered as a whisper, just a breath of baffled amusement.
forkedroad: (pic#6908510)

[personal profile] forkedroad 2017-02-14 01:29 am (UTC)(link)
"Uh—" Annabelle lets out another little breath of a one note laugh, taking a step back when he wakes up. "Hello there," she says, waving in one, broad sweeping motion. "Sorry to disturb your nap on your—" She looks around, gesticulating with a floppy sweater sleeve. "—hoard of...untold fortunes."

She looks around her feet, then his feet, feeling awkward. "I'm your new roommate, apparently. I'm Annabelle."
forkedroad: (pic#6908583)

[personal profile] forkedroad 2017-02-14 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
She blinks, looking momentarily bewildered. It doesn't last long, though.

"Yes, actually," she counters helpfully.
forkedroad: (pic#6908533)

NO ONE CAN HELP U

[personal profile] forkedroad 2017-02-16 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
In turn, Annabelle stares down at him, her gaze steely and commanding. She's not an incredibly confrontational person by nature, but she's also deluded enough to not be afraid of anything, or anyone.

"Yes," she pushes back, just as sterny. She takes a slow step forward, insistently asserting herself, daring him.
forkedroad: (pic#6908512)

[personal profile] forkedroad 2017-02-19 10:35 pm (UTC)(link)
At first, Annabelle is certain Foster is attacking and referring to her. She raises her eyebrows in surprise when it goes the other way. She wonders if these are genuine feelings (oh Annabelle), or if he's trying to convince her so that he can have the trailer to himself.

"Maybe so," she says mildly, despite her look of slight shock. She was anticipating some sort of fight, not this. She's never really seen someone behave this way. "But it is what it is. If what you're saying is true, perhaps it would be better of you to take pity on me."

Above shading complete strangers if they're acting crazy???? Nope.
forkedroad: (it's real o'clock and you're fucked)

we're all confused

[personal profile] forkedroad 2017-02-20 02:55 am (UTC)(link)
Well, it's increasingly clear that Foster is fucking crazy. This is Annabelle's moment of curt clarity, and it's noted and tucked away. Overall, it doesn't phase her, though. Not yet.

"Well, you're going to have to figure out a way to get over it." Annabelle is trying Foster's logic, a little, but it's hard because they've only just met. But, it's also kind of a fun challenge. She crosses her arms. "Would it make more sense for you to try thinking of it as you being so insignificant, the weight of your presence doesn't register? Therefor, it's okay: I can live here."
Edited 2017-02-20 02:57 (UTC)
forkedroad: (time flies when)

A CLUMSY CURTSY

[personal profile] forkedroad 2017-02-20 03:38 am (UTC)(link)
"Are we good, then?"

Annabelle doesn't seem interested in grilling him, seeming satisfied with his lack of a response. He's clearly stumped, which she thinks is sufficient for now.

"Also: your name? I gave you mine."
forkedroad: (pic#6908527)

[personal profile] forkedroad 2017-02-22 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
"Nice to meet you," she responds, lifting her skirts a little to step over some mess. She glances at him, shrugging a little.

"Or not, depending on what makes more sense to you, I suppose."

Still holding her skirts, she looks around their trailer, furrowing her dark brows.

"Have you lived here for a long while?"
forkedroad: (pic#6908459)

[personal profile] forkedroad 2017-02-22 09:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Annabelle's eyes stick on the gold as he talks. She's confused by his answer, but contentedly and erroneously chalks it up to his obviously impaired mental facilities. For now.

She looks back at him, smiling with almost impish interest. The prospect of adventure and boons is tantalizing as ever.

"...And what was that like?"