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[ofdrumsthesound]

I'm getting a headache yet again . . .

Comments

[always_heads]

[Strolling on through, tossing an apple up in the air and then catching it. And... oh dear. Someone who requires aid. But could he assist? Should he?

He walks halfway over, loses his courage, takes a step, finds his bravery again, and finishes the journey to... poke the stranger in the shoulder.]

[ofdrumsthesound]

Food! Can I have it?

[always_heads]

[Oh! He's not a spectator. Good to know. He shrugs and holds the item out to the stranger with immediate puppy-eyed trust.]

Certainly! You likely need it more than I.

[ofdrumsthesound]

Much more than you. *And he eats it.*

[always_heads]

I can see that.

[He plops down right beside him and just watches.]

[ofdrumsthesound]

. . . so, wherewhen am I?

[always_heads]

[What a strange question from a strange little man. It should be obvious to him. Still, Rosencrantz will explain patiently.]

Here and now, of course. Do you not remember?

[ofdrumsthesound]

What is here called and what year is now, idiot!

[always_heads]

[Not at all perturbed by the name-calling; he's far too used to it.]

Here is where we are. Year is... ah. Hm. [Taps his finger on his lips.] I do not know. That has never concerned me before. Well, I suppose, why worry about it now?

[ofdrumsthesound]

Oh for Other's sake, what a dimwit you are. I'll have to look for myself, then.

*He seems to look around for a bit, then sighs.* Earth, middle ages. Bloody great.

[always_heads]

Now that is a peculiar turn of phrase. Dim... wit. One presumes wit is 'bright' to start with, and further, that one has any at all. A lot claim to, of course, and why not? It's a noble thing to aspire to. Wit. Witty wit.

[He is distracted by a few rocks near him. He picks up a few and moves them around in his palm.]

[ofdrumsthesound]

Oh for . . . I've half a mind to kill you and put you out of your misery.

[always_heads]

Ah, but you can't. You have to follow the script. There is a certain balance and order to things, my honored Lord. One cannot upset them, can one?

[Curious held tilt, glancing away from the rocks momentarily.] In what way would you kill me, if you could? I've been told recently there's quite the variety. Would I die heroically, comically, ironically, slowly, suddenly, disgustingly, charmingly... [There was another, but it has slipped his mind. This isn't uncommon.]

The truth of it, really, would that I not die at all, but that is not my role.

[ofdrumsthesound]

How about painfully?

[always_heads]

[He shakes his head right away, not even considering it.] No, no, that's not really possible.

[ofdrumsthesound]

Why not?

[always_heads]

It's not how things are written. Consider living your life by a script, over and over again, doomed to repeat it each time it is read. I have to wonder if that is already painful enough.

[A musing silence. Then, suddenly, he stands, holding a rock in each hand and considering both equally in turn.]

This one weighs more than the other, yet it has more edges. If I throw them southerly, and the wind is equal each time, which would would go the farthest?

[ofdrumsthesound]

Probably the lighter one. Who cares?

I haven't got a script.

[always_heads]

I care and why should I not? With nothing else, one item is as good as another.

[He tosses. The spiky one manages an inch further because it bounced. Rosencrantz grins playfully.]

A good thing we did not bet on that.

[ofdrumsthesound]

*He just stares. It's highly unnerving, the Master's stare.*

[always_heads]

[To normal people, very true. The only thing that bothers Rosencrantz is the silence, and more than that, being the lead role.]

What's your name?

[ofdrumsthesound]

The Master.

[always_heads]

[He waits a beat, expecting more. Then:] The Master of what?

[ofdrumsthesound]

Everything.

[always_heads]

That must get terribly exhausting.

[ofdrumsthesound]

Oh yes.

[always_heads]

[He kneels, seeks out more rocks.] Well, why not quit?

And it's 1 AM here, so more tomorrow

[ofdrumsthesound]

. . . I think I would, if I knew how.

[always_heads]

That seems odd. Why would you not know how to quit? Could you not simply... do it?

[ofdrumsthesound]

No. My mind isn't built for letting go of power.

[kickbutt_reality_master]

Y'alright?

[ofdrumsthesound]

. . . uh, no.

[tinfoil_angel]

[He glances over to The Master. having heard him apparently.]

Want some help with that?

[ofdrumsthesound]

What kind of help did you have in mind?

[tinfoil_angel]

Numbing the pain through peculiar means but it won't inhibit your mind.

[ofdrumsthesound]

Can't I just kill someone instead? It would be easier.

[tinfoil_angel]

[That catches him off-guard but he seems to return the bluntness easily.]

Maybe on a normal day for you but I'm not exactly going to let you do that.

[ofdrumsthesound]

Aww, why not?

[kickbutt_reality_master]

Need some help? I'm the hero round these parts.

[ofdrumsthesound]

Unfortunately, my problems mostly come from me being a supervillain.

[kickbutt_reality_master]

Oh... well. Let's hear more about that.

[ofdrumsthesound]

The war drums in my head are telling me to kill people again.

[kickbutt_reality_master]

Tell 'em NO! NO, bro.

[ofdrumsthesound]

Bloody brilliant advice, I'd have never though of it--what are you, twelve?

[kickbutt_reality_master]

I'm fourteen!

[ofdrumsthesound]

Shoo, kid.

[kickbutt_reality_master]

No way, bro. You ain't killing nobody on my watch.

[ofdrumsthesound]

At the moment I'm trying very hard not to kill you. And I think my control is about to slip.