033. Royal Orleans

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[People can build bonfires and burn effigies all they want -- some guys (lowercase G) have work to do!

One of whom is Brock. He has work to do.

That work is, of course, patching up the huge fuckoff hole in the side of his dumb cabin. He is out in the woods right now, though he's more staring at the huge fuckoff hole than doing any sort of repair. How does one even fix a hole in a log cabin. Does he need to knock down the whole wall ...

Making a frustrated noise, he flips his journal open.]

I lost my lumberjack. Does anyone cut down trees for fun, or do I have to go find an axe?

-- and Crowley. I hope you got a steering lock for your goddamn car.

Comments

[molotov]

Behaving irrationally is not the same as being irrational, and I said you are an idiot sometimes.

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

Oh, "sometimes." World of difference, there.

Anyway, behaving irrationally -- you're doubletalking me, Mol. [ANGRY BEER SIP] It's the same thing.

[molotov]

It is a world of difference! "Sometimes" means you are intrinsically not an idiot, and are only choosing to act idiotically.

The same goes for behaving irrationally. It is not doubletalk.

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

Okay, well -- right now you said I'm an idiot. And right now I'm acting irrationally. Which means you called me an irrational idiot -- why are we arguing about this?

[molotov]

Because you are behaving like an irrational idiot, Brock. Watch.

[And then she takes another sip from her beer before calling out:] Castle, we need some logs.

[And then there is a pile of logs.]

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

That's cheating.

[POUTING. MANLY POUTING.]

[molotov]

It is not a game, Brock.

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

You can still have honor about stuff. Wishing is such bullshit.

[molotov]

"Honor"? Brock, there is no "honor" about anything here! You think the food is less magical because you get it from the kitchen instead of having a ghost bring it to you? You think that suffering somehow serves some purpose? You will go on losses either way. You have been kidnapped by a magic castle -- honor is no longer in play.

Now stop being ridiculous and use that wood.

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

I'm not using your wished-up wood, Molotov.

[molotov]

Use it or I will wish for a rocket launcher and blow the cabin up.

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[Observe as Brock comically drops his beer at that statement.]

You do that and I'm breaking all your limbs.

[molotov]

Why? You apparently love to suffer, and I am only accommodating that desire by giving you more work.

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[And now he's making choking motions with his hands. He doesn't even know he's doing it.]

It's not -- I'm not going to let you keep blowing up my shit!

[molotov]

[Molotov just casually sips more beer!]

And I won't, if you use the wood.

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[Choke that air, Samson! You can do it!]

That's the stupidest ultimatum I ever heard. Why do you care?

[molotov]

Same reason you will not marry me, I suppose. Because I think it is stupid.

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

That's completely different! A magic castle marriage isn't like, a hobby, Mol. I'm trying to build this stupid thing without magic because maybe I don't want to rely on this place to do every single thing for me. Don't you get that?

[molotov]

[Wow, Brock. You say really stupid shit sometimes, why is this?

After several moments of staring at him, Molotov very abruptly produces a grenade, which she starts to gently toss up and catch.]

You really want to chop wood, Samson?

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[He said perfectly fine shit, thank you! This made absolute sense, it's like why somebody makes their own clothes instead of going to the mall. Besides, she knows he hates this stupid magic stuff anyway! Why are you being such a jerk, Molotov. Why.

Brock stares at her like he is about two seconds from cutting her throat.]

Put that away!

[molotov]

[No, it was stupid shit! It's fine to make your own clothes if you are good at it, but this wasn't even really akin to that analogy. People who make their own clothes buy the fabric, right? They don't make the fabric and the needles and the threads themselves. Anyway, the stupid shit was more about marriage.

Molotov glares right back, and loops her finger through the pin, though she's not pulling yet.]

Why should I? It seems to me like only a wife would have to respect her husband's property. But since it would be stupid for us to be married, I suppose that respect is stupid too...

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

[Well, it wasn't like he was planting seeds and waiting for them to grow into trees before cutting them down! Guys who build cabins do not to go the log store and buy logs. He's trying to do this as if he weren't living in a magical paradise, okay? Let him have his dream!

Let him have his, you know, not knowing that it was a metaphor for marriage. Molotov, your boyfriend is a moron. Why do you keep forgetting?]

What -- you know, it's kind of hard to have this conversation when you're holding a grenade.

[molotov]

[Yes they do, why do you think logging companies exist! In the real world, you need permits and shit to cut down trees. Also, you have to own land to build shitty little cabins, you can't just take whatever parcel of land you want! So Brock is indulging in the magical paradise lifestyle, regardless of what his dumb dream is!

Angling her head a little, Molotov shrugs.]

Why? We are not on a time limit yet. Pin's still in.

[icarustattoo.livejournal.com]

Because I don't like having conversations with a weapon pointed in my face. Call me sensitive.

[molotov]

It is not pointed at you, Samson. I am merely holding one of my belongings, until which point I see fit to throw it.