paradisa | (no subject)

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adrian veidt

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Teleportation is problematic. Without a guiding mind, the possibility of a gruesome death upon arrival is, for most intents and purposes, certain. Therefore I must be fortune's favorite, unless--

[ The sound of a smile. ]

Gentlemen, ladies. Let's talk, shall we?

[ Adrian waits in the lobby, journal in hand and standing still to keep his purple suit wrinkle-free. ]

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[ That accent and the can. No judging eyes here, nope. ]

Your experience, to start.

My experience. [he blinks a little, swiping a hand across his mouth] Arrigh'. Little over a week ago, I fell asleep somewhere I was s'posed to be an' woke up here.

Since then, I've had people tell me I'm in some kinda magic castle, an' that there's such things as aliens, people from hundreds've years in my future, demons, books that write down what you say, an' wishes that pretty much instantly come true.

Considerin' I've been on some pretty heavy pain medication and quite possibly dead, I'm leanin' toward either some fucked-up afterlife or a loony bin. S'much as everyone's told me it isn't.

... So, there, that 'nuff've an experience for ya? [that suit isn't getting any judging eyes, either. no. seriously man what the fuck is this, the 70s?]

Thank you.

[ If the suit fits! He links his arms behind his back. ] Have you tried wishing away the pain?

Ha, no. [he makes a little amused face] I'd like t' think m'not so far gone yet where I'd think shite like that'd work.

You are in a castle. [ He holds up the book. ] I've found the book and the alien.

... Same alien's me, then? Big guy, huge armor? Goes by Georgie?

[ He smiles. ] An attractive girl, actually. She goes by Martel.

Can't say's I've met her, yet. .... You're takin' all of this pretty easy.

Should I be pulling my hair out? [ An expression, of course. There are no circumstance that'd ever warrant that. ]

[don't think Murph hasn't noticed what a Pretty Pretty Princess you are. he's not going to mock you right off, though.]

Well, not lit'rally, no, but -- this stuff isn' exactly run've the mill, everyday shite, is it?

[ And he won't mock the Guinness--Oh, what the hell, gesturing at the can. ]

No, it isn't. You're taking it pretty hard.

What, this? S'just a beer. [he grins] Y'know, Irish water. ... [he holds out his hand - with the Latin for "justice" tattooed on it] Name's Murphy. I'd welcome ya if it actually felt right t' welcome anyone here.

Your belief that this is an afterlife or a mental asylum.

[ If he hesitated to shake that hand, it was only for a microsecond. He smiles for the camera. ] Thank you, regardless. Adrian Veidt.

Adrian. [he nodded, committing face and name to memory. the man seemed like a politician, which ... could be an interesting thing to keep an eye on in a place with no concrete laws]

Well, what else could it be? Logically, within reason, I mean. I doubt this is all some dream or a coma. S'no way I'd dream half of this up on my own.

[ He is unsure if he would be offended or flattered by that observation. ]

Would madness drive you to construct, at least, half of this?

I guess if I really didn' know what I was doin'. This sort've thing isn't what I'm used to. [he rubs at the back of his neck] I guess I always thought if I lost it I'd be seein' everythin' I'm used to, only more fucked up? Goin' cracked isn't somethin' I just sit around thinkin' about over the mornin' coffee, f'you know what I mean, Adrian.

Of course. [ He bows his head to concede and even chuckles. ]

This is far from what I imagine madness to be.

F'it ain't madness, then ... what is it? In th' depths of yer infinite wisdom, I mean.

[he mostly manages to cover up his smirk by taking a sip of his beer]

[ He watches him finish that sip first before answering. ]

Would you think me mad if I said reality?

Depends on why y'think so.... [he frowns]

Overwhelming evidence.

Yeah? Like what, exactly? S'like askin' if someone wants one thing or the other an' the jackass says "yes".

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