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[tongueamok]

Hello, this is Carlisle. I mean, it's not Carlisle as in I'm actually answering you right now, so if you're trying to reply to me at the second, you should probably save your breath because I'm not really here. This is some kind of a recording of my voice, but this is my communicator. I'm going to assume these devices are as common here as they are in other places — not my world, but others, ones more technologically advanced than where I come from— so if you'd like to leave me a message, then you may do so here, or er... Right. Here is fine. So just leave yo— [beep]

Comments

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle nods, his eyes on the teapot as he pours one mug, then the other, scooting the first toward Michael. He'd hoped hosting would help ease his mind; it has not. Perhaps he should put more faith in conversation.

Unfortunately, conversation is a two-way endeavor, unlike confessional. He pushes a sigh through his throat.]

It's quite normal to imbibe where I am from. I have long thought it a reliable method for dulling the claws of my fears, but Glacius would argue otherwise. It was easier to deal with the aftermath without someone around to suffer it.

[Or so he thinks. It's hard to remember sometimes. That was a part of the point, though -- to drink until he can't think anymore.]

[aroundthecoroner]

[Michael takes the mug, but doesn't drink just yet. The warmth of it is nice, especially in here. Hard to believe there's an inferno raging not far away.]

It's pretty normal where I'm from, too. The drinking part. It's not too uncommon for people to go overboard, either. I'm not really into it myself, but I can see the draw.

[He got blackout drunk exactly once, and he almost told a cop he'd just killed someone. Not his finest hour. Besides, he's always been about a very different kind of self-medication.]

I'll be honest, my coping mechanisms aren't exactly healthy, either. [They're a collective mess, oops. But this half (2/3?) of the collective mess, at least, has had people try to help him.] But I've heard that other people, uh. Meditate? Or do a lot of physical activity? Do either of those sound remotely appealing?

[tongueamok]

Do I look like the sort to do a lot of physical activity, Michael?

[Bony frame, glasses, bags under his eyes, skin that looks like it has never seen the sun before, a temperament more inclined to argue about push-ups than to actually do any, the fact he was slightly winded by the stairs when he came to get Dave—]

[aroundthecoroner]

[ALL FAIR POINTS... Listen, he's trying.]

Yeah, okay. Me neither. Worth a shot?

[God, what else is there?]

You could, uh... [Problem-solving doesn't really apply here. He doubts journaling would help.] Well, I guess we already talked about it. Shit, I'm supposed to be distracting you, not making it worse.

[He pushes his glasses up to rub at the bridge of his nose.]

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle does nearly the same, shoving his glasses to his forehead so he can rub at his eyes.]

You are as good at this as I am, it seems.

[Sigh. He tries again.]

I wonder if the false gods brought the fire to this place, or if it was someone living here. Perhaps they wanted something, or perhaps they are getting revenge in the cruelest way possible.

[aroundthecoroner]

[Right, okay, he can follow along with this.]

I would hope it's not the gods. Trying to smoke us out seems kind of counter-productive for them.

[But what does he know about their agenda?]

Maybe somebody just likes to start fires? That's a thing. Pyromania. If it was for revenge, then they sure played themselves. Unless they live south of the river. Know anybody who hates a lot of people?

[tongueamok]

Not anyone who is here anymore.

[Thankfully. He sips at his tea, remembering far too vividly when Shadow burned his rooftop garden. How long ago that seems now.]

[aroundthecoroner]

[Well that sounds vaguely ominous.]

I guess if it's revenge, it might just be aimed at one person. Honestly though, it was probably an accident. That's how most of these things go. Mistakes in the kitchen or something.

[tongueamok]

Perhaps.

[And as the subject of a fire-based revenge once, he goes quiet, inhaling the steam of his tea. He probably should have infused it with some paw plant leaves to calm his nerves better, but that's generally not the kind of tea one serves to company.

There are some soft steps from the hallway as Carlisle's pet nug meanders into the room, its pink, hairless body covered in a sweater much like its master. It roots around the floor behind Carlisle's chair, looking for crumbs.]

One would have to be a very poor cook indeed to start a fire of this magnitude. And I thought my ineptitude spoke volumes.

[aroundthecoroner]

[Carlisle sniffing his tea reminds Michael that he's holding a cup of his own. He takes a sip. He's not a big tea drinker normally; he survives on a large amount of coffee, instead. But this is nice, too.]

I don't know, I guess people forget they have stuff in the oven? What- [He stares at the nug. Is that... supposed to be here...??? It's wearing a sweater so it's probably not just a random animal. Probably. One never knows in Hadriel.]

Is that, uh. Is that your pet?

[tongueamok]

Hm?

[Carlisle looks from his tea down to the nug in the sweater as it comes around his chair, still rooting around the floor, and gives the animal a soft smile despite that notch of worry still in his brow.][

Ah, yes. A friend gave him to me before she was taken from here. He's a rabbit of... some sort, in case you don't have those where you come from. Thankfully friendly, and he keeps out of my plants. I'm... honestly not certain this is the best environment for him, but he seems to have adjusted.

[Or he doesn't mind wearing sweaters. It's hard to tell.]

[aroundthecoroner]

[Well, this is certainly a distraction.]

Are you... sure that's a rabbit? [It's awfully large. And those legs aren't quite right, either.]

Looks kind of like a big-eared capybara. Or a shaved aardvark.

[It's cute, though, in a weird way. The sweater helps.]

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle, for one, is thankful for the distraction from his thoughts and desire to drink; unfortunately, the rabbit doesn't make a very good conversationalist, so Michael has the advantage in that regard. The clergyman leans forward just a bit to scratch behind the creature's ears, his look confused as Michael questions it.]

A... an art-what?

[aroundthecoroner]

An aardvark.

[Time to play everyone's favorite game, "spot the world differences".]

It's like an anteater? Or like a really big mole.

[Surely a world with rabbits also has moles??? Jury's out on anteaters.]

This one's nose is different, though. Not piggy enough. What's its name?

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle just looks progressively more confused as Michael carries on. He seems to reach the apex when asked the most simple question of all.]

Name? He— oh.

[Oh indeed.]

He doesn't have one. But- but he looks enough like a rabbit. An odd... otherworldly sort of rabbit.

[He looks down at the rabbit; the creature glances his way, his ears flicking before he goes back to shuffling along the carpet.]

Miriam -- the girl who gave him to me -- said he ought to have a name, but- but I suppose I never got around to it.

[aroundthecoroner]

[Okay, no on the anteaters. And maybe the moles?]

I guess you could name him Rabbit, if he isn't one. But that also might be a little like naming a dog "Cat".

[He takes another sip of his tea.]

[tongueamok]

I've never had to name a pet before. Or named any living thing, really.

[Much like he isn't the type for physical exercise, he's also not the type to have had a pet until relatively recently.]

[aroundthecoroner]

I... [Hmm.]

I haven't either.

[Oops. What do people name pets???]

Usually you'd pick something cute, or like, a food name. Or maybe a mythological figure?

[He can't even count the number of cats named Loki.]

[tongueamok]

I'm not about to name a creature I suspect others would eat if given the chance after food.

[Michael, please.]

[aroundthecoroner]

[Michael gives the nug another scrutinizing glance.]

Who would eat one of those? And that's not the only thing I suggested.

[tongueamok]

I don't know. Somebody. Vampires, probably. Deranged, godless beings.

[Said like someone who has met one of those and doesn't want to talk about it. He then changes the subject, exactly like someone who doesn't want to talk about it.]

I think calling him Rabbit is best for now, seeing as he likely doesn't know any other name. Do pets get a surname?

[aroundthecoroner]

[Ah yes. Deranged, godless beings. He's choosing to ignore that, and any truth inherent in that. Carlisle is probably talking about real vampires, anyway.]

I think pets usually just get the same surname as their owners? But I've also seen people give their pets new ones. So, up to you.

[tongueamok]

Hm.

[Too many choices, but he has to admit that this has, as the very least, been an adequate distraction from the fires.]

I suppose Rabbit is fine for now. Rabbit Longinmouth.

[Maybe that's... a bit much.]

[aroundthecoroner]

[Michael makes a face and then quickly unmakes it. It's not his pet. He has no right to judge its name.]

Right. Rabbit Longinmouth it is.

[He takes yet another drink of his tea so that he won't say anything else.]

[tongueamok]

Right.

[Here comes the awkward silence. He sips at his own tea as the rabbit (Rabbit) makes his way around the room and vanishes in to the hallway once more. Several seconds pass.]

I, er. Received your application.