[NOVEMBER LOG] They talked because they could

[lasthumanvoice]

Who: Cecil and Gerry; Also Cecil and You?
When: Ugh, Scorpio season.
Summary: Lot 37; Library Visit; Something cute because I deserve it.
Warnings: Possible discussion of coercion and fears?

1. Then One Night [Closed to Gerry]
Cecil is sitting near the fountain in Festival Green when Gerry catches up to him, working on editing an article, a scowl on his face. Someone is quite aware Lot 37 has been sold. Someone is braced to be used at any moment.


2. He Was Nowhere to be Found [Open - Greymare Library]
Now, living where he does, right by Town Hall and the Clock Tower means that Cecil's home is also right beside the Library. In Night Vale, the Library was a place of grave danger, the Librarians violent and prone to attacking anyone who desired to read. Here, he's been reassured that's not the case. Regardless, though, there is a caution written on his expressive face as he walks with mincing steps toward the shelves, a look of awe on his face.

Perhaps you're also here to read, or you're the kind of jackass who'd sneak up behind someone who's clearly already on alert and scare them. Either way, here, have a Cecil.


3. Under the Starlight [Open - Outside somewhere]
There is a pile of leaves someone's raked up. Cecil has noticed this pile. It's tall and thick and looks awfully soft. And with a glance left, a glance right, and a broad grin, he's going to take a running leap into the pile, because at heart he's still a little juvenile.

Come join him, or maybe admonish him for ruining someone's hard work.


4. Vanishing Without a Sound [Wildcard]
Find me on discord or plurk at darkersolstice if you wanna discuss.

Comments

[lasthumanvoice]

“A…bad time for what, exactly? I think it would be a horrible time for me to be carrying hot liquids, for example. I would end up scalded for certain!” He turns to face them, still a little frazzled.

[restingslasherface]

"Recklessly disregarding this world's technological development!" They're grinning. It's supposed to be a friendly grin. It Is Not. "I am, hahaha, desperate to get radio up and running. For many reasons! Chief among them being that it's autumn next to an ocean!"

[lasthumanvoice]

“Yes? Unfortunately, I don’t know how to make radio. Keeping the station running was Station Management or maybe IT or engineering. I was just the Voice of Night Vale.”

For better or for worse.

[restingslasherface]

...

....

.......

DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT DOT

"Well shit."

[lasthumanvoice]

“If someone makes radio, I’ll gladly lend you my voice. It is a good voice! But. Until then I’m a little useless in that capacity.”

He has the good graces to be apologetic about it, at least.

[restingslasherface]

"It's fine, I don't think I get to complain when I can't build most of the weapons I use," says the nugget who, if given a power source and access to Walmart's cutlery aisle, will make a chainsword by hand. "It's just somewhat frustrating! I'm already drawing up plans for some less useful ideas, alarm bells for the farms for instance, but..."

They're not about to explain the utility of radio to the Radio Man.

"And, well, we can hardly do a show using a giant megaphone, hahahaha, ha..." unless..?

[lasthumanvoice]

“…why not?”

[restingslasherface]

"...Same question back at you, my social norms are way different from the ones here. If the people in charge wanted to blast a megaphone any time they felt like it back home you listen or you die."

[lasthumanvoice]

“Sounds like the Strexcorp Company Picnic. Mandatory fun that no one was allowed to leave or escape. Maximum productivity mandatory fun.” Cecil’s tone of voice is quietly sympathetic. Jean always has reminded him of a Strexcorp employee, from the time where they owned Desert Bluffs (and briefly, Night Vale).

I'm Sorry For A Second One-Liner BUT

[restingslasherface]

"Wow, they actually paid for people's food?"

[lasthumanvoice]

“The Picnic was a euphemism. So were the ‘tall electrified metal volleyball nets’ that no one was allowed to go past. An electrified fence, keeping people in.”

Cecil’s voice is quieter than usual here. More subdued. He isn’t reporting this, he is recounting it.

(Hahaha, he doesn’t have any trauma.)

[restingslasherface]

"...Oh." Jean's face falls significantly. "That is. Far less nice. Or acceptable. Sometimes employees die on the job but there's...there are standards."

[lasthumanvoice]

"We weren't even employees. We were the citizens of a town suffering a corporate takeover, backed by a Smiling God." Cecil shakes his head. "Sometimes, you remind me of that incident. Sometimes your smile reminds me of their god. I am scared of you, sometimes. And I know that is not your fault."

[restingslasherface]

That smile turns into a concerned frown. Jean looks way, the energy just...draining from them.

"I'm...I want to do a good job."

[lasthumanvoice]

"I know. And that's a significant part of why I'm telling you where my baggage is, in this situation. I have nothing against you, specifically. I just. I'm carrying some awful memories with me, but even them I don't want to forget."

[restingslasherface]

Jean laughs. It's short, and it's bitter, paired with a soft shake of their head. "Is it better or worse if I tell you the teeth came as a free bonus with my combat mods, Comrade? I've come to like them, they're distinctive! It's hard to stand out at home...but sometimes I'm sitting in bed and I remember they were a free bonus and it gets hard to get out of bed."

[lasthumanvoice]

"Combat mods." Cecil gives them a long, quiet, heavy look. "Jean, I don't pity you, but I think you've been through some fucked up shit."

[restingslasherface]

"I'm starting to think most of us have," Jean murmurs, sober-voiced. "Tell me, have any of our comrades you've met so far died peacefully in their beds? I'm not sure you'd even get here without dying a death that is...less than ideal."

[lasthumanvoice]

“I…you’re right, but I don’t remember my death. It hardly feels real.”

To anyone else witnessing this conversation, with both of them turning their manic down so low, it might almost seem like normal people talking calmly. How very odd.

[restingslasherface]

"You're not the first person to react like this to the life I've lived. I'm...starting to become one of those people. But I'm just the nail that's sticking up. The hammer has come for us all, Comrade Cecil. I don't know how to help people with that, hahaha, ha, I can't even mask properly to make them more comfortable around me. But. You seem like you do know how to help. Your voice on the radio can be so much more than emergency weather alerts, but 'morale' doesn't get a major project to put radio in every home funded."

[lasthumanvoice]

"It should, though. It might need to. Morale...I wonder if that isn't why we're here, some of us at least. We're as welcome to become entertainers as farmers or miners."

Morale, welfare, recreation...

"The backing of the doctors would help, I'm certain. The town, and especially the native one, are grateful to have them. But the question of radio is still one of 'how?'."

[restingslasherface]

"I wonder...Comrade Halloway may prove helpful no matter what..." They frown more thoughtfully than emotionally. "Comrade Jones fights a lot like I do. He may be familiar with the technology in a general sense, but even if he's not able to build it his contacts with Ms. Leeds could expedite a call for experts that saves time. That avenue is closed to me, but maybe not to you."

[lasthumanvoice]

"Comrade Jones--I don't believe that I have met him yet." Cecil strokes his chin. "But I do have proper contacts. Yorick and I have our offices in town hall."

[restingslasherface]

"Excellent! If there's anything at all I can do to help, don't hesitate to ask. I'm given to understand some kind of towers or transmitters are involved, I can imagine their construction may need guarding or at least another warm body." Jean takes in a deep breath, and nods mostly at themself. "I'm ready to help, Comrade. Ready, and willing. I...I do hope my great concern for the overall mission is not mistaken for a lack of concern for my fellows."

[lasthumanvoice]

"No, you've made it clear your concern is for the city, as a whole and as individuals. I find myself wanting to trust you, Comrade Jean. But I've misplaced my trust in the past before, and I'm not..." Huff. "You were more right about me the first time we met than I want to admit."