Give thy thoughts no tongue

[carnagecarnival]

Who| Initiate and OPEN
What| Initiate got told to go to speech therapy lest he find himself avoxed again. His escort signed him up. He's not enjoying this.
Where| Around any lobby, lounge, cafe, library, or park -- you decide! 
When| Wibbly wobbly time -- various points before and after dying gruesomely in the children's arena
WARNINGS| Language. 

The books are piled high around him. There's enough he could build himself a small tower, or he could rearrange them into a wall what he could sit inside. Truthfully, he ain't above none of those things, but he's on business right this minute.

Some very frustrating, slightly painful business.

Normally, when he takes to reading-- which is often-- he keeps quiet, letting the words roll all into his skull of their own willing. Reading out-loud just drew attention on things he didn't need attention for. In this case, however, he ain't got a choice. Alex hadn't outfight said, get this done or you'll be made a mute again, but there was still the threat there, and if he had to talk with the motherfucker again, it might not go so well. But the other reason was that he hadn't actually signed up willing. It had been done for him, and it was awful, and he'd be happy to never ever motherfucking do for one of them sessions again, with the Capitolite "speech therapist" making like he was some kind of stupid and couldn't talk just as well as any.

Like he did the fluctuations deliberate. He didn't. Doesn't. But they happen, all scarred on him by the power of his voodoo, and he can't just make it stop. Voodoo scarring don't fade. This is a futile task.

Still, he's here, reading Shakespeare aloud and miserable. 

"WHAT-- gh-- what do you read my lord? WOR-- rrr-- FUCK!" His voice has never sounded quite so hoarse. His face is twisted up like he's in physical pain. He breathes deep through his fangs. "Words, words, words. WHAT IS THE M- OTHERFUCKING...! Whatisthematter,mylord, betweenwho!"

He drops the book and let his face fall in his hands. So what if everyone can hear him whine? They can hear him doing this shit, which is even worse. This is never going to work.

Comments

[silberfuchs]

"Not exactly. I just know of... certain things that happened in the last Arena." Carlos doing surgery on a unconscious Cecil was all over what aired once Albert had been out. True he'd spent the remainder of that first week curled in bed around his then-fiance, but with the Games being so prevalent it couldn't be avoided. The footage was painted in an evil light, something about Carlos being a mad scientist, unable to even control himself in desecrating the unconscious form of someone he supposedly loved, but Albert had been involved in and witnessed enough surgeries to know something else had been going on.

That, and when Terezi had killed Cecil, he'd spoken to her. With Punchy's voice.

If Carlos can do all that with what he scavenged from the Arena, he can't imagine what the man might be able to do with actual resources. "I can understand not wanting something so invasive though."

He flexes one hand, the metal joints that make up his fingers clinking under his gloves.

[carnagecarnival]

The Initiate had lived to the very end. Certainly, there were always recaps and recordings but... he'd not wanted to witness it all again, seeing himself like that through eyes what weren't his. Made him think of Messiahs looking on and from there just made him want to shut it all off.

But if Albert knows of things, maybe it was time to suck it the fuck up.

"Will have to... see it for myself," He says. He doesn't know what it would consist of or who would have done it. Cecil, he last saw was mute, helping he and Justin along. Carlos had been drunk, helping him to set fire to Terezi's corpse. All he can think is it means someone poking on around with shit and tearing him up. He can just imagine the clinking of Albert's robotic fingers. Docterrorist were meant to terrify. He is not one to claim himself fearless, so he can admit easy that of them he's got a fear.

But then, if he doesn't fix this, it might lead on to worse.

"AIN'T KNOW IF AS IT WOULD WORK. Messiahs work in ways mysterious. COULD TRY THOUGH," He says. "You know what sort I ought be looking for up in them recappings?"

[silberfuchs]

"I think it was about Week 3 or 4?" He doesn't remember exactly, he wasn't there. "And then in the fifth week, Cecil's death."

They'll both be hard things to watch, but it's important for Initiate to find out. "I'm not sure if that will help you, considering I'm not sure if your fluctuations happen because of your voice or your mind, but it's worth pursuing if you really think they won't leave you alone about it."

He purses his lips, trying to think. "There's also the possibility of speaking with your Stylist and Escort. They could potentially work the fluctuations into your presentation which might keep any retribution for things out of your control to a minimum."

[carnagecarnival]

Cecil's death. That certainly clears it all. It certainly motherfucking makes on a churn in his guts. Cecil ain't no more. He'd been a capitolite. There wasn't no chance that maybe he "went back to his own world".

To Carnival be his soul, then. The eternal afters of Shangri-La be him.

But then, if Albert's calling Cecil up as one what had voice fixed...

Cecil got himself all fixed on right up. Someone had given him his voice back. That's a lot to take in all right there.

He nods along, to both things, then says, "THANK YOU."

wrap up?

[silberfuchs]

In response to the thanks, Albert merely inclines his head. He's not sure if he's offered any real solution here, if there is a real solution. He doesn't know exactly why these fluctuations happen, doesn't know if vocal chord surgery is an answer, or if it's something mental but moreover it's something religious that hurts no one and he shouldn't have to change it unless he wishes to. But that's the state they're in.

It's enough for now, he thinks. Better to leave Initiate to think about that despite the other complications. "So... what else do you have here to read? Or would you prefer to finish Hamlet with a partner? I wouldn't mind the role."

He smiles gently.

Sweet~

[carnagecarnival]

If Albert is letting the topic fall for now, he shall too. He would much rather relax. And he realises, in all this time of letting the fluctuations work as they will, he sounds a little better again. Not much, but enough that the idea of continuing isn't so bad.

Especially not when it's Hamlet.

He smiles back. "Fuck yeah, I'm about it. BUT HAMLET BE MINE."

He picks the book back up to read off, even though he knows by heart...