Tony Stark (
in_extremis) wrote in
revivalproject2022-04-02 08:27 pm
Entry tags:
- destiny: cayde-6,
- detroit become human: york stark,
- ffvii: reeve tuesti (crau),
- it chapter 2: richie tozier,
- marvel comics: tommy shepherd,
- star wars: cal kestis,
- the magnus archives: jonathan sims,
- voltron: keith (dfau),
- †: circle of magic: lark,
- †: destiny: lord felwinter,
- †: ffxv: noctis lucis caelum,
- †: marvel comics: jean grey (crau),
- †: marvel comics: lauri-ell,
- †: marvel comics: tony stark,
- †: mcu: quentin beck,
- †: star wars: rey
Indictment
WHO: Absolutely everyone.
WHERE: The diner.
WHAT: A decision has to made about threats to the community.
WHEN: After an attempted murder, a chaotic rescue, and an awkward reunion. Now.
WARNINGS: Nothing yet. Mark it if something comes up because...
NOTES: Structurally, this is a mingle, so you can decide what part of this is actually important to you. What you talk about in here doesn't have to be directly Beck-related, but for details about the incident, further organizing, and if you want to determine what your characters might have done/seen/heard in the meantime, this post is still good!
[NETWORK//text @ everyone]
This was the last thing Tony wanted to do. The diner at least felt familiar, neutral--somewhere he could be in control, without having all of the attention on him. Being able to bask in the attention would have been so much easier. As it was, that felt like he would be inviting everyone to really examine the cracks in the armor. They were here because he had already lost control.
As if that didn't already feel enough like an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, Tony found himself standing in a circle of seats that he had arranged, the tables pushed up against the walls, and couldn't honestly say how much that had been intentional. He raised a lip, and looked to Felwinter as though he would have any illuminating insight about productive interior design. He seemed like he wanted to be here even less than Tony did. Beck was his charge for the time being, though, and as awkward as it was to stand in his stupid chair-circle with the pair of them, Tony did appreciate having Felwinter there to keep an eye on their...problem. Even if having witnesses to his restless energy made it all the more humiliating. Felwinter couldn't sit on Beck forever just to make sure he didn't lure anyone else off the edge of a cliff, so they were all going to have to survive a little humiliation.
"I think the coffee's done," Tony declared, with absolutely no idea what state the coffee was actually in and readily moving toward the kitchen regardless. "Do you want one? I'll get you one. Do you do that sort of...?" He was still talking, and what Felwinter did or didn't eat and drink might have otherwise been something Tony pushed him about, but he was already mentally in the kitchen and trailed off as he went, flapping a hand to wave off any refusal of his offer or explanation about Felwinter's digestive situation. Maybe he would just stay in the kitchen and listen, let Beck hang himself.
Tony took a deep breath, pushing his sunglasses up his nose and squaring his shoulders, readying himself for a performance.
WHERE: The diner.
WHAT: A decision has to made about threats to the community.
WHEN: After an attempted murder, a chaotic rescue, and an awkward reunion. Now.
WARNINGS: Nothing yet. Mark it if something comes up because...
NOTES: Structurally, this is a mingle, so you can decide what part of this is actually important to you. What you talk about in here doesn't have to be directly Beck-related, but for details about the incident, further organizing, and if you want to determine what your characters might have done/seen/heard in the meantime, this post is still good!
[NETWORK//text @ everyone]
Come to the diner. We have to talk.
If you don't show up, I'll assume you agree with me because you're incredibly intelligent and graceful. The city of Temba thanks you for your contribution to our justice system.
This was the last thing Tony wanted to do. The diner at least felt familiar, neutral--somewhere he could be in control, without having all of the attention on him. Being able to bask in the attention would have been so much easier. As it was, that felt like he would be inviting everyone to really examine the cracks in the armor. They were here because he had already lost control.
As if that didn't already feel enough like an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, Tony found himself standing in a circle of seats that he had arranged, the tables pushed up against the walls, and couldn't honestly say how much that had been intentional. He raised a lip, and looked to Felwinter as though he would have any illuminating insight about productive interior design. He seemed like he wanted to be here even less than Tony did. Beck was his charge for the time being, though, and as awkward as it was to stand in his stupid chair-circle with the pair of them, Tony did appreciate having Felwinter there to keep an eye on their...problem. Even if having witnesses to his restless energy made it all the more humiliating. Felwinter couldn't sit on Beck forever just to make sure he didn't lure anyone else off the edge of a cliff, so they were all going to have to survive a little humiliation.
"I think the coffee's done," Tony declared, with absolutely no idea what state the coffee was actually in and readily moving toward the kitchen regardless. "Do you want one? I'll get you one. Do you do that sort of...?" He was still talking, and what Felwinter did or didn't eat and drink might have otherwise been something Tony pushed him about, but he was already mentally in the kitchen and trailed off as he went, flapping a hand to wave off any refusal of his offer or explanation about Felwinter's digestive situation. Maybe he would just stay in the kitchen and listen, let Beck hang himself.
Tony took a deep breath, pushing his sunglasses up his nose and squaring his shoulders, readying himself for a performance.

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"Nah. Trust me, long story that has no good endings. The thing is dead now, most likely. That's the best part."
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He frowns, finding nothing glaringly obvious.
"Uh. It's like. A guy. Paints his face? Red nose? Crazy hair? They're supposed to be funny, for kids. You seriously never heard of a clown? A circus?"
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Granted. Some of his visions has given Bruno sneak peaks into this unfamiliar world. Only that these glimpses rarely made much sense to him.
"So.... They are meant to be funny, but sometimes are evil...?" That's a very confusing concept for Bruno as well.
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He squints at Bruno a little, interested now.
"So...uh. Where are you from? Like specifically? No clowns or circuses is weird... No offense."
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His expression is cautiously concerned as he considers the question before answering. "...Colombia. That's... Where my town is."
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He reaches for another slice of pizza and chews on it thoughtfully.
"Huh. I am surprised there were no clowns there. Never saw one on tv either?"
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Congratulations, Richie. You have successfully confused this little old man.
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"You...don't know what a TV is?" Richie frowns and thinks about this a little deeper. "Okay. So two options here: either you were from like a really poor part of Columbia or a really old one. Soooo... What year do you think it is? Or was it when you left? Wait. I'll do one better: you guys got cars?"
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He ends up biting his lip in thought while simply looking at Richie for a long while.
"...no?" But they have food. That's important, right? Do people elsewhere need cars to survive?
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Richie shrugs and lets it go.
"TV is like a magic box that shows you entertaining shit. Don't worry about it. You're probably better off without it."
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"Wait a second-" He says after a moment. "Magic box... I built one of those! For my rats and their plays." He tries to gesture with one hand while still holding the pizza box in the other. "They- They're very talented, y'know? Always ahead of the script and all."
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"Your....rats? And their plays?"
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He casts a sheepish grin at Richie. "What's your magic box showing you?"
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Richie blinks.
"So...you're magic too, huh? Like the magical princess-talk to animal variety?"
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His hand drops down on his pizza box and he raises a brow at Richie. "What's.... Magical princess-talk...?"
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He smiles at the idea of rat theater though.
"That whole thing is fun though. The rats and imagination. Creative. Couldn't get your hands on people?"
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He misses his rats a little. Not the mess they tend to make or the damage they can cause with their gnawing, but their company.
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"This place... Doesn't appear to have any rats, though...?"
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"Not like we'd know at home. But there's other animals. You could...uh. Maybe find something that is close and can continue the plays? Maybe they'll even work for less cheese. Come out with profit!"
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Yes, Richie, you're a valid replacement for Bruno's rats. Lucky you.