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[The following is actually a series of three separate posts to the network; all three are posted in fairly quick succession, likely before anyone can reply to the first two, though they are open to comments.]

how do you make it so not everyone can read one of these things

[like thirty seconds later]

oh

[a couple of minutes later LOCKED FROM CERTAIN PEOPLE NAMED ELENA FISHER]

so a bunch of people use this system to pour their hearts out and get other people to do the same which usually seems weird to me. i mean just because you say it over the mid doesn't mean you won't run into people later and make it really weird and awkward. i don't know maybe that's just me.

except what the hell i'm pretty drunk right now so why the fuck not!

RIDDLE ME THIS, CREWMATES. pretend for a minute that you're a complete asshole who somehow got the most amazing woman in the world to marry you, fucked it up real fast like dropped a grenade on it bad BECAUSE you're a complete asshole, got her to take you back and start over and then fucked it up again.

what do you do? asking for a friend.

also the first person to make a suggestion that actually works can have some of my alcohol stash. everyone else can fuck off i'm not sharing.

[action options - feel free to go from a network thread to one of these]

[OPTION 1: DRUNK. Nate is pretty toasted as he wanders around the ship, but not so much than he has trouble getting around with just an occasional stumble. Alcohol tends to loosen his lips, so he'll gladly (well, not he's not real glad about anything right now) talk to anyone who makes the poor life decision to talk to him first.

[OPTION 2: DRUNKER. Jeez, he's getting to be a real mess now. Nate makes a trip to where the Mess Hall used to be so he can pour one out in honor of the lost bar. What a hideous waste of alcohol. Afterward, he visits the observation deck to drunkenly look at the stars, and will stay there.

[OPTION 3: DRUNKEST. Oh god he's so unhappy. Look at this complete wreck of a man who's making the observation deck a pretty unpleasant place to be. He is completely wasted. (Existing CR only for this option please—basically, if they've had at least one conversation, you're good.)]

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[Thank god he skipped the part where he had to share a bucket for part of that time. Some stories just aren't worth telling.]

Oh no, we're not skipping ahead. This is a loooong story. We only found a phurba, this dagger thing that's the key to Shambhala, and the next clue to where it was. Shithead chased us off and my partner jumps ship to go chase girls in Borneo but me 'n Chloe—she's here on the ship you know, have you met Chloe, you'd remember her if you did—we go to Nepal to find a temple that matches the phurba.

BUT. But. So'd the army owned or run by Lazarevic, the dickhead who hired shithead. Real asshole of a warlord. Shot at us a lot. We almost died like five times trying to get to the temple. And then we ran into Elena and Jeff.

[That gets an indulgent laugh out of Dorian. Okay, so no skipping ahead, it's like a book, isn't it? Dorian has the same patience for listening as he did for reading, though normally it was his own voice that he was listening to. It was Nate's evening (was it evening? he could never tell), however, and Dorian was here for this very purpose- to hopefully make him less unhappy and return peace to the observation deck.

Granted it's a ghost town now, so Nate could do or say what he wanted to or needed to. Dorian adores a good story, however, so his attention is completely undivided and riveted as he sips wine and listens to the grand retelling of events. He doesn't know many of these individuals, though he has heard of some of them, and places and ideas were unfamiliar to him, but that was not the point.]

You're making me homesick, but I do enjoy the plot twists. [For as fast as Nate's twisting them, but he makes a gesture for him to continue.]

Jesus, I hope your home isn't anything like this.

[Shrug. Drink. Dorian's an attentive audience, and Nate is just drunk enough to the point that telling this story sounds like a good idea while not being too drunk to tell it effectively. Sort of.]

But I'm glad someone does. Wasn't so fun for me to bump into my ex-girlfriend and her cameraman while I was with a new giruhhh woman I was sleeping with. [Chloe wasn't anyone's girlfriend really.] Turns out they were following the dickhead because she's a journalist. Really good one, wants to save the world.

[Drunk as he is, the admiration in his voice still overshadows the sarcasm.]

So we all run from this helicopter and find the temple and then the dickheads mercs attack and poor fucking Jeff gets shot. We dragged him alllll the way across town and than Lazarevic shows up and shoots him in the head anyway and Chloe goes off with shithead to save her skin because she didn't want him to know she'd been playing both sides and 'lena and I had to run for our fucking lives.

Then she drove me to the train so I could rescue Chloe before they figured out she'd betrayed them, except Chloe didn't want to be saved and Flynn shot me so I blew up the train and ended up hanging off the edge of a cliff and had to climb up the wreckage. While bleeding. A lot. It hurt.

[IT ALL MAKES PERFECT SENSE.]

Check out my bullet scar. It's glass now.

[He lifts the hem of his shirt to display a small glass circle on his lower abdomen.]

Edited (spiffing it up a bit) 2016-07-13 15:22 (UTC)

There are certain similarities.

[More darkspawn, demons, and venatori...but this was Nate's story and there was no point in explaining the horrific details of his own world to Nate. Frightening experiences were not something to compete over, best to listen to the story...

...even if very little of it makes perfect sense...because...no, it doesn't really.

Nate is really drunk though.

Drunk enough that when he mentions Chloe and Elena in the same breath he could almost smell the scandal. No wonder the man was drinking like this, but he made no comment, only raised his eyebrows. Obviously he was a man who loved his wife.

As Nate came to the conclusion of his story, Dorian admittedly hadn't a clue about shithead, dickhead, and trains- but explosions, betrayal, double agents, and projectiles always made any story, no matter how confusing, fascinating. Though this Jeff guy dying and Nate's did inspire an expression of concern, sympathy. It was rare on Dorian and his words tended to belie what he really thought.]

Poor thing, you can lay your head on my shoulder if you want, let it all out.

[But when Nate moved to show Dorian his scar, the mage couldn't help his amusement.]

I'm not kissing your b-

[But when he saw the glass Dorian immediately went for his own neck which was covered in glass that creeped all the way up to his jaw, but was hidden by the high collar of his robe and a well turned head.

He poked the circle of glass, gently, knowing his own jaw was fragile if not flexible.]

Is that the only spot, Nate?

[BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE probably not any more coherent, though]

Uhhhh, no. I've got a glass pinkie toe too. [He lifts his right foot to demonstrate, not that it can be seen through his shoe.] Just take my word for it, you don't wanna see it.

[Not that feet are gross, but. Well. He's had these shoes on all day, the socks aren't especially breathable, it just wouldn't be worth it.

[Ugh. The glass. A topic nearly as depressing as his marriage.]

I got off easy. Nothing life threatening unless you poke the scar real hard, so please don't. Plenty of people have it worse.

[And it's time for another drink of wine.]

Ha, be nice if we had the Cintamani Stone here, cuz what it actually turned out to be when we found Shambhala might be helpful now. 'slong as you don't mind turning into a purple pro wrestler.

You might want to avoid stubbing that on anything and I'm going to have to recommend a pedicure for you when they've found a way to fix this. [Because that TMI about Nate's ripe feet means that action really ought to be taken. Feet are very important after all and Dorian is all about fixing Nate's marriage, what better place to start than with smelly boat feet?]

Don't worry, I like you better alive so let's make a promise, I promise not to poke your glass bits if you promise to be gentle with mine.

[At which point he'll pull back his collar to show Nate his jaw, neck, and bits of his face that he was attempting to hide from the rest of the world. No one has, nor will they ever again, look as sad as Dorian Pavus does in this moment.]

Could you imagine if someone shattered my jaw while it was like this?

[See, Dorian does have a reason to drink and he's pouring another glass as he listens.]

I...think I might have an issue with being purple, but I'm curious anyway, what could this Cintamani Stone do to help?

[Huh, pedicures. Maybe Elena was right about more guys getting them than Nate thought. Something to consider later, when he's sober, if he remembers.]

It's a deal, pal. [He can't help but make a face and shake his head at the sight of Dorian's glass parts, though.] Eesh. I don't think I want to imagine it. Stay careful, all right? Surround yourself with pillows.

[Aside from just not wanting to see anyone hurt by being glassed, Nate wants Dorian to be all right. How many people so easily act entertained by his bullshit?]

Right, okay, so...let's skip ahead. Imagine a balls-shrinkingly-cold mountain except in this secret valley, there's this amazing city hidden from the world. Like gorgeous, amazing architecture, warm and sunny. Great place for a summer home.

Except there's this enormous world tree, big as a skyscraper maybe [no] that drips fucking magical tree sap that gets turned into resin. That's what the Cinatamani Stone is made of, all polished up and pretty, and there's a whole lot more of it.

Anyway it makes you god damn near immortal but the only people that live in the fucking city, these guardians, are the size of like...three of me and are purple with bad dental work so, you know, down sides. They didn't really want to share the sap.

[Or perhaps Dorian just preened more than most guys and thought very highly of his feet- well, nor more or lest than everything else about himself.]

Ahah. I'll be sure to make a charity run, find as many people willing to donate pillows as possible. Have all my meals delivered and everything! Should be nice. [A pipe dream, rather, Dorian hadn't been that pampered in a long time, but at least Nate wasn't alone, and the concern was touching.

Throwing back his second glass of wine he poured another as the man continued on about his adventures. The mage had to fight down the urge to laugh while he drank, snorting instead and making a pained expression in the process, because the wine went down hard.

Balls-shrinkingly-cold.] There's an image.

[Of course if it was anything like the Emprise? Snow, ice, mountains...then yes, he could very well imagine. More story time though and so he leaned back again, sipping and listening, not a clue still, but interested all the same. Nate's enthusiasm was what made the story entertaining regardless if he understood the finer points or not.

Better than Varric's shitty smut literature, anyway. Sorry Varric.]

Well, if I had to choose between being a hideous, purple, immortal with bad teeth or being a devastatingly handsome mortal with great teeth? I would choose me every time. [He'd seen what immortality had done to Corypheus, it certainly did not make him handsome.]

[He can picture that, although in his current state the image is sort of fuzzy around the edges. Dorian lounging around in plush cushions, attended to by the little people. Actually, that would be kind of fun to draw.

As long as he keeps the wine flowing. Nate knows shit-all about good vintages, but this tastes good, and that's even more impressive considering his taste buds started to die a little while ago.]

Somehow I'm not surprised. s'not your color. You could maybe pull off the yeti costume, though. [Lend it some flair.] Looked like a pretty bad gig anyway. Amazing lost city, hardly anyone in it, and all these asshole grapes did was try to keep people out.

[A terrible career. And no benefits to speak of.]

So we found the city and my ex-friend got shot by his asshole boss and blew himself up with a grenade because why not, damn near took Elena with him. I stopped the asshole from getting all the sap, which kinda blew up the city, me 'n Chloe barely got Elena out before she bled to death, everyone went home and we got married because hey, I wasn't actually over her.

[jazz hands] The end!

[Dorian Pavus, surrounded by comfort and luxury? It really isn't that hard to imagine, what is hard to imagine is Dorian Pavus in a yeti costume.]

I'm not entirely certain what a yeti is, but it sounds almost as unattractive. [At least the word, yeti, doesn't exactly sing or dance. He's a man with good taste in wine and clothing, not to mention good literature, so he would intrinsically know that he would not look good as a yeti.

Not that it mattered now that they were on the homestretch of the story and Dorian could honestly say he knew as much now as he did at the beginning of it. Still, the ride was amusing, and he clapped and gave his 'bravos' as any polite gentleman should.]

And here you are today, to tell tales of happily ever afters. [Though if that were the case, what was Nathan doing here, drunk as a Dwarf?] I don't suppose you've ever thought about writing? It would make a good story, with a bit of flourishing.

You would definitely not like the yeti uniform.

[Hairy, scary and definitely not changing with the times to stay fashionable? They haven't known each other long, but Nate is certain that Dorian wouldn't put up with any of that.]

Me? Naaah. I'm not a writer. Besides, do you really think anyone would believe it?

[He shrugs and takes yet another sip of wine.]

Plus the happily ever after isn't exactly guaranteed. Could make for a shitty sequel.

[If Nate knew that much about him already, then he knew Dorian quite well...or well enough.]

You pitch the story and have other people do the writing for you, you collect the royalties. I don't suppose it matters if other people believe it, fiction does very well after all...but you know, it would be very believable where I come from. We'll see how well your purple people match up to our demons, dragons, and darkspawn. [Far from drunk, Dorian throws back what is left in his glass and pours another.]

I suppose the shitty sequel is why you're out here drinking on your own. I won't push you to talk about it, but I'll listen if you want, or we can drink and talk about something else.

Huh. Maybe, one of these days. When I'm not in space anymore.

[Purple people aren't up to scratch compared to some of the shit out here. Or other places, going by what Dorian's said. Demons he can imagine, dragons he gets, darkspawn sounds shitty and creepy and probably really gross.

But ugh. Back to the current reality, had to happen eventually. Unfortunately.]

Oh what's to tell, I mean I just proved to my wife that I'm a dick who runs from the hard talks and all the progress we made fixing our marriage was fake bullshit.

I can't say that I'm much better, I ran away from my fiancé...granted we were arranged before either one of us could even speak. Marriage sounds...complicated.

[Doubly so in Dorian's case, but that was beside the point.

Dorian wasn't typically so schmaltzy, but he knew that this wasn't as causal a situation as he made it seem.

Carefully, the mage pulled Nate into the manliest half-hug he could manage considering the man's drunken state. He would blame this on the wine later.

Aaaaaaaand release.]

You love your wife, anyone can see it...when you talk about her you get this look on your face that I can't put a description to, it's almost nauseating...but adorable. Your marriage isn't fake...I've seen plenty of fake marriages, people who stay together for coin, prestige, power, and because it is what is expected of them. My parents can barely tolerate one another, I suspect I was the reason why- coy insults round every corner. They try not to stay in the same room together longer than they can manage, reason why I'm an only child.

[Ruffling Nate's hair.]

You've problems, but some things are not impossible to repair.

[Huh. Now that's a story, and he'd consider asking about it if he had more of his wits about him. Dorian hardly comes off as the marrying type...apparently there's a reason for that.

But then he catches Nate off guard with the very manly half-hug and hair ruffle and speech, not that that's hard.]

Makes it sound a lot more possible, the way you say it.

[And really, he wants it to be.]

Too bad they don't make duct tape for this.

[Ask him about it sometime when you're sober, he might be inclined to talk about it. Fair is fair and all of that.]

Of course, I have such a way with words, perhaps I should have warned you. And honestly, I think it is possible, easier when people love one another than when they do not.

[Of course it's impossible to work on anything when you loathe the other person. Nate has a better chance than most.]

I don't know what duck tape is, Nate. Is it a device used to truss up the limbs of unsuspecting waterfowl?

[If he remembers.]

Prob'ly, yeah.

[If he says that without an extreme amount of conviction, well...look at where he is now, in a situation where two people love one another.

Of course, Dorian said easier, not easy.]

Duct. Duct tape. It's tape for ducts. Do you have those? Naw, you must not. I bet a duck would get pretty pissed if you taped it up. Kinda want to try it now. But that's animal cruelty.

[Drink deep and plenty Nate, so they do not have that conversation.]

That's the spirit, Nate.

[All he needs is the proper motivation and someone to light a fire underneath him...Dorian will just have to find someone who can do that.]

You have the right of it there. [No ducts where he's from, they build things the old fashioned way.] I bet a duck would attack you if you tried it and, somehow, the idea tickles me.

[But like. Not a literal fire, right? Because you mages can do that at the drop off a hat and he'd rather not have a singed ass.]

You could probably get me to try it if I get drunk enough. No ducks around, though. What a tragedy.

[He could mean literal, it would score you some sympathy points if you went back to your wife with owies. Maybe.]

I suppose we'll have to forgo that little affair for a time when we're on a world with ducks. For now I suppose we drink and dream of the day.

[Considering the injuries he's come home with before, a singed ass probably wouldn't even register with Elena.]

Oh yeah. [He raises his glass.] Here's to the day we get to fight a duck.

Edited 2016-07-21 16:17 (UTC)

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action - I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LONG but I love sharing Uncharted 2: Drunk Edition it's almost done

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