shitposting rave 4: (almost) anything goes

*giggling becomes slightly more audible*

 

(the part where i have to listen to you despite you being a complete stranger?)

WHAT is SO FUNNY??

 

Valiska is a kit's name. My name is Valisseira. The humans in Gravity Falls called me Vasilissa sometimes, and I didn't mind that.

 

We are not certain. Laurence suspected that it would be through the Blood's odd properties that we would find our way to Ascension. That is to become as the Gods ourselves. The Provost Wilhelm, and myself, however feel that this is a flawed perspective. One more likely to destroy a society than raise it up, as seen by the Ruins. That Yharnam is in such a state of chaos as it currently is only proves the old adage, I feel. Fear the Old Blood.

I myself have partaken of the blood, however. Not out of choice per se but necessity. The blood has restorative qualities to it and that seems preferable to simply dying on the streets from injury. Through it I also seem to have made some manner of pact. There is a word, almost imperceptible, that is burned into my mind and I am bound to the Byrgenwerth Dream. Whether this is common, I do not know. If it is then I have yet to see anyone in my dream. Perhaps they've dreams of their own or perhaps their pacts were made with another. Mine own seems to be with Ebrietas, Daughter of the Cosmos. When I rest in my dream it feels almost as if I am engulfed in her very being. Her words comfortingly reverberate down the vaunted halls of education as they have been recreated, and the water seems to surge with her influence. Here in my dream I am safe, stolen away from the world by something much greater than I.

Also that sounds like someone who would be called Old Deuteronomy. The sagely always have a way of mocking their youngers. It's endearing though, at times. The Provost is a stubborn man but a dear one.

 

(im your cool older cousin whos going to kick your ass if you dont.)

 

*visibly struggling to maintain a pokerface*

 

(...)
(OCULATERO!)
*He tosses what appears to be either sand or salt from his pocket into @Cronus J. Ampora's eyes and absconds.*

 

*full-fledged laughing fit*

 

*SCREAMING.*

 

That is not magic.

 

that is TOO magic. i cursed the sand first.

 

So, d'you wanna talk philosophy with me, Valisseira?

 

Your name is JOHNNY CAMARILLA, and you aren't sure what's happening or where you are or whether you owe anybody here money, but it isn't Seattle, which means that odds are decent that nobody will suck your soul out through your eyeballs. You idly toy with the clasps on your shitty faux-leather jacket, eyes darting about as you attempt to figure out how to approach the situation at hand. This is one of those times you wish smoking still did something for you.

(The image is approximate for what one might expect of this character)

 

I would like it very much if you would explain what you said, before. At first I thought you were angry with me, and now it seems you are concerned. I take it this "Valiska" and her Stanford are persons of importance to you.

 

-She snorts, then makes an uncomfortable face.-

Sort of. Maybe. So. Ask away?

 

I don't know what to ask you. You said a lot of things I didn't understand. I know what 'nihilist' is because Stanford said that is what my family was, but 'babby's first nihilist edge'? What is the good stuff I am supposed to be getting to?

 

Wait. Someone is screaming in agony who isn't you. This is your chance. You make your way to the gentleman with the slicked-back hair and the agonized expression and insert yourself into the conversation as gracefully as you can.

"Good evening, folk." You squint, glance upwards. "I think it's evening. I'm used to saying evening. I'm typically only ever out during evenings."

 

look, buddy, does this LOOK like a great opportunity for small talk to you?

 

Your hands are up immediately in a placating position. You fall into your natural social rhythm immediately; roll over, bare your neck, display how little of a threat and how useful of a guy you are. Anyone feeling weak will look for an opportunity to feel strong, and there are no opportunities as prime as the arrival of a professional bootlicker.

"Well I mean jeez, I come over here looking to provide aid to the best of my ability, it's not any kind of targeted indignity or nothing. S'how I attend to situations as they present themselves, no offense or nothing intended with my arrival or demeanor or-or-ahhh, or what have you."

 

Ehn... that was kind of me being frustrated. It's just that that sort of worldview leaves out a lot of important nuance, which is why it tends to be one people... get to quickly and then develop past one way or the other? Frankly I'm kinda surprised.