Magenta Magenta (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
himalayanyeti) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
snowblindrpg2017-10-24 11:22 pm
himalayanyeti) wrote in snowblindrpg2017-10-24 11:22 pm
Entry tags:
[log] does it ever get better? [closed]
Characters: The Joker and (Old Face) Magenta Magenta
Location: Building 226, or thereabouts.
Date: Day 294
Summary: It's been a few years, probably, and clowns stop being funny after awhile.
Warnings: Weird event nonsense--aging? Will edit as needed!
[It feels like it's been years. Logically, this doesn't quite add up, but Magenta has never been one for logic...and it's a fairly convincing facsimile of time, anyways. He remembers the days relatively clearly--the deaths, the experiments, the occasional glitches in the system, there like they never left--and he certainly is older, more grey-haired and less energetic than he's ever been, but it still doesn't sit right. Whatever. Nothing ever sits right, here, and assuming something would comply to his wants was probably stupid in the first place.
It's been just Magenta and the Joker, still the target of his effort and slightly strange affections even after all these years, an odd pair--and Harley, of course, though he can't quite remember where she's gone or when they separated. Years ago or yesterday, whatever the case may be, she's not around. It's a bit sad, really, to not have her around.
It's sadder company to have someone as thoroughly rattled as the Joker is, lately, but he has to make do, and it's not like Magenta can just leave him. Leaving people rarely ends well. Never ends well.
When they arrive in the same building for what feels like the hundredth circuitous time, it's barely a relief. It's not much warmer inside than it is outside, Magenta notes with some distaste, and it's hard to find many reasons to not just stay out in the cold for a little while longer, perhaps try and find somewhere they haven't been before. It's impossible, of course, but it's still worth some wistful thought as he shuts the door firmly behind them, angling his head towards his companion.]
D'you think it's worth trying to find somewhere else? Probably not, I mean, but--y'know. Are you feelin' alright?
Location: Building 226, or thereabouts.
Date: Day 294
Summary: It's been a few years, probably, and clowns stop being funny after awhile.
Warnings: Weird event nonsense--aging? Will edit as needed!
[It feels like it's been years. Logically, this doesn't quite add up, but Magenta has never been one for logic...and it's a fairly convincing facsimile of time, anyways. He remembers the days relatively clearly--the deaths, the experiments, the occasional glitches in the system, there like they never left--and he certainly is older, more grey-haired and less energetic than he's ever been, but it still doesn't sit right. Whatever. Nothing ever sits right, here, and assuming something would comply to his wants was probably stupid in the first place.
It's been just Magenta and the Joker, still the target of his effort and slightly strange affections even after all these years, an odd pair--and Harley, of course, though he can't quite remember where she's gone or when they separated. Years ago or yesterday, whatever the case may be, she's not around. It's a bit sad, really, to not have her around.
It's sadder company to have someone as thoroughly rattled as the Joker is, lately, but he has to make do, and it's not like Magenta can just leave him. Leaving people rarely ends well. Never ends well.
When they arrive in the same building for what feels like the hundredth circuitous time, it's barely a relief. It's not much warmer inside than it is outside, Magenta notes with some distaste, and it's hard to find many reasons to not just stay out in the cold for a little while longer, perhaps try and find somewhere they haven't been before. It's impossible, of course, but it's still worth some wistful thought as he shuts the door firmly behind them, angling his head towards his companion.]
D'you think it's worth trying to find somewhere else? Probably not, I mean, but--y'know. Are you feelin' alright?
cw: sickly coughing
[Joker makes a sour expression that is partially hidden by the long, green hair hanging in his face. It's not like they have been here before. Right?
Nevermind the fact that the sounds of his own footfalls across the old woodwork sounds hauntingly familiar.]
I'm fine, don't I look fine?
[He doubles with sickly cough that he's had for months now...or is it years?]
no subject
[He pulls his hat--battered and worn--off of his head, casting Joker with a uniquely pitying look. He's just as sick--has been just as sick for as long as he can remember, even longer than he's been in Norfinbury--but casting his worries for his own health as concern for Joker's is easier to think about and manage.]
Let's stop here, then. S'that alright?
[Even though most of his more high-strung personality has been lost to time, he still retains a few nervous mannerisms, such as turning his hat's brim in his hands while he waits for a reply.]
no subject
[He squints.]
Maroon, was it?
no subject
[He's surprisingly gentle about it: his once shrill voice is subdued to something more soft and careful, and his words aren't as harsh as they could've been. Sighing, he tucks his hat back onto his head, crossing the room to the empty bedframe to nudge it with his foot.]
Hope you're willin' to sleep on the floor, then. This place looks like it's been fuckin' gutted.
no subject
[His voice trails off as he looks down. The wood, or maybe it's metal, beneath his feet is so familiar...]
Have we been here before? I think I recognize these boards.
no subject
[His tone is pleading, placating, a hand moving to settle lightly on Joker's shoulder.]
Sleepin' on the floor is fine. You'll deal.
no subject
Hey! Don't TOUCH ME!
....I dunno where you've been.
no subject
Sorry. I'm sorry.
[It's just instinct, at this point--apologizing for slights not strictly his fault.]
I've been with you, yeah? This whole time. Nothin' has been any different. Sorry.
no subject
[Joker pulls a face and sits on the floor thinking about the last few days which feel more like years. Whenever he tries to focus on a memory it seems to skitter away to a place just on the edge of his fevered mind and he can't tell if it's this place or just...him.]
no subject
[Softly, Magenta settles on the floor a few feet away, close enough that his solemn, hurt expression is easily visible but far enough that he feels confident he could dodge another shove. He always felt more comfortable on the ground, anyways.]
Maybe you can explain it? Just for me.