outofclothes: (pic#8276287)
[Stark appears to be holding a jar of...well, it's a jar of eyeballs floating in what appears to be a viscous fluid. Close observers might notice that the eyes don't have exactly blank stares. They seem to be looking at something, but what exactly is anyone's guess.]

I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say Vin didn't order me a jar of peepers. [Hence why he's not asking her directly.] Seeing as how I'm not exactly up for popping one of my own eyes out to see where the others have been placed--[Stark sets the jar back down.]--anybody notice any stray eyeballs lying around?

Don't touch them if you find any. Just tell me where they are and I'll come get it. Someone mighta laid down some hoodoo, so better safe than sorry.

And if you happen to know where the hell this jar came from in the first place, I wouldn't mind if you shared with the class.
outofclothes: (✝ and i'll survive)
vin )

spam - open.

[Eventually, Stark can get Vin to go away. It takes some doing, but she can't sit there all day and Stark won't let her. Besides, he doesn't have any intention of cooling his heels in the infirmary for long.]

[He's feeling a little better from swooning just outside his door which means he's good enough to not be there by his logic. This logic, of course, is inherently flawed, but logic's never been Stark's strong suit even on a good day. So, he pushes himself out of bed and makes his way to the inmate showers though there are plenty of times he's stopped, leaning on a wall in the hallway. When he does get to the showers, he doesn't bother to strip or even close the curtain, just turns it on and sits. After being covered in dirt, blood, what he hopes was mud, and everything in between, Stark's relieved to just feel the water for a while. He alternates between just sitting with his eyes closed and spacing out looking at his new bug-machine arm trying to determine just what the hell this week has been for him.]

[Maybe it's stubbornness. Maybe it's stupidity. It's possibly both. But Stark doesn't head straight back to his cabin. Instead, he makes his way up to the deck. Lying down on a bench, he opts to dry out here than sit and stew in his cabin. Not that he isn't still stewing, but it's a more public stewing if only because he can't quite figure out if he's exhausted or restless yet.]

[And, of course, at no point has he bothered to cover up Lucifer's armor, but he does keep his new left arm as tucked away as possible.]
outofclothes: (✝ and i'll survive)
video - day one.

[The camera flips on to show a relatively petite blonde. Or maybe it's just the fact the clothes on her right now are clearly not only men's, but for a man much taller and bulkier than she is. She'd maybe be pretty, or at the very least, average-looking if it wasn't for the scars that line the visible parts of her skin. There was a time when she was self-conscious about them, but not so much anymore.]

Okay, veeery funny, guys. You got me.

[She doesn't sound all that amused though. If anything, bordering on annoyed.]

Where the hell are my clothes? I'll tell you what, whoever took them? Just knock on my door. I'll close my eyes and open it. You leave them and go. No fuss, no muss, no getting your ass kicked for breaking into my cabin in the first place.

I think we can all agree that's fair.

spam - day two & three.

narration )


spam day two & three )
outofclothes: (✝ i thread the needle through)
spam.

[The Key is not a toy. It's a serious piece of magic.]

[But it's back right where it should be, right in Stark's chest next to his heart. Sure he's had his abilities back since he was paired up with Vin. But there was something decidedly off-kilter in being without the Key.]

[So excuse him if he's taking it on a little joyride. Stark steps in and out of shadows all over the public areas of the Barge from the deck to the gardens even to common rooms and the hallways. Wherever he can go, he'll abuse the Key like he needs a reminder it's there and that it works.]


video.

[He just got the guns so cleaning them isn't strictly necessary. But there's something incredibly therapeutic about it. Normally Stark drinks and he smokes. Anything to shut the voice up in his head and keep the bad dreams as far away as possible. But he doesn't need either right now with all of his guns. His mind, for a change of pace, is clear and he's in a good mood. It's what he's in the middle of when he opens the feed.]

You know, I had that freaky realization that with the exception of maybe a week, I've been on this piece of shit Barge for almost a year. Looking back on it, I thought I'd be angrier about it, but I dunno.

Beats other places I've stayed.
outofclothes: (✝ taking over)
vin )

voice.

So, just for shits and giggles, if you were steering this flying pile of shit, what imaginary water would you try to take on? Because the Admiral clearly has no taste. Maybe some of you do.

And don't be an asshole and ask me what I'd choose. I'm asking you.
outofclothes: (✝ for a well-made mistake)
vin )

video.

[Once he's finally alone, he decides to speak to the network albeit briefly.]

FYI, I'm still alive though not for a lack of trying. I see you guys didn't manage to crash the Barge, so good job. Gotta be honest, I would've been pissed with you guys if you did that without me.
outofclothes: (✝ i'm gonna make a mistake)
video.

[Stark has his good days and he has his bad days. Today is one of the bad days.]

[Stark is emptying his pockets and haphazardly tosses his communicator down on the dresser. It's upside down, but the video feed is triggered on. He's humming, occasionally a slurred word here and there slips out. But there's one word that he avoids saying and even seems to pause in his humming over: Alice.]

[He stumbles over to the bed and flops down on it with next to no grace even for him. He keeps a hand on her pillow, but otherwise stays away from it. Even in his drunken stupor, it's like there's a barrier between him and that side of the bed.]

[Today is a bad day, but this is the best he's felt all day. Maybe in a long while. (Or rather since the last time he got this drunk.) The angel in his head has shut up, he's too drunk to care about much of anything. He knows that doesn't say much about him. But you know what? He's fine with that. He gropes around for another bottle to find its empty and lets it drop out of his hand onto the floor before putting his arm over his eyes, stilling humming that goddamn song.]
outofclothes: (✝ i wanna mistake)
day one - spam.

[Stark does not take the network. Only an idiot would display their hand that easily and quickly. While not the sharpest tool in the shed, Stark is also not that stupid. He spends his time casually reading through everyone's messages instead.]

[From what he gathers, it's a flood. That would explain the differences in that it would seem he's supposed to be on the opposite end of this warden-inmate business. Fan-fucking-tastic. At least the boat isn't falling apart anymore. It almost makes him wonder who managed to get through, but he falls short of caring by a hair.]

[Instead of announcing his presence, Stark instead starts laying down a few peepers. Don't mind him setting up some innocuous eyeballs about the place. Really, it's fine.]


day two - text - vin.

[There's one person he reaches out to though he's unsure of what he'll find. It's worth a shot.]

you're quiet.

day two - spam.

[Stark is getting restless and, even worse, bored.]

[He spends most of his time on the deck and hallways, maybe sending out a hex or two to cause some pain or at the very least a mild headache out of annoyance. He wants to kill something. More accurately, he wants to tear something apart down to its molecular level and then reconstruct it back into some unrecognizable mass. Unfortunately, most of his favorite playthings don't seem to be aboard any longer. Pity. He'll just have to find someone else.]

[It's their lucky day.]


day three - video.

[Stark finally decides to break his silence on the network. He's had about enough of this place. He's sitting in the middle of a room with thirteen doors around him. He prefers that to sitting around in his office of a cabin, what can he say?]

Don't you guys ever get bored of this monotonous bullshit? I mean, I'm not exactly expecting top-notch entertainment out of you drytt, but this is absurd. It almost makes you miss cable.

((ooc: Stark is from the Pocket Full of Soul plot aka mirror!verse. He's back to being big bad Lucifer. So, have fun.))
outofclothes: (✝ and i'm scratching at the surface)
video.

Please tell me this place doesn't go all out for every goddamn holiday. I know we're past the technical holiday season, but please tell me there's going to be no cupids or chalky heart candies for people to pass out.

Otherwise, I just straight up quit.

[Don't ask him how. He can do what he wants, Barge. You're not his real mom!]

vin )
outofclothes: (✝ of course but)
Alright fine. Anybody interesting on the other end of this?

[Probably not, but whatever. It's not like he's got anything better to do.]
outofclothes: (✝ to pawn)
[Hey, Stark figured out how the hell to operate this thing some more! He's technologically illiterate, okay, but he's not that bad. No, he just basically accidentally managed to put it on video and has no idea how he did it. But he isn't going to futz with it.]

[He's still organizing his winnings from the weekend though. He's a little pressed that his eleven year old self gave away one of his Maledictions to Bond, but he's generally over it with the small mountain of cigarettes he has now.]


You know for all that talk about about this place being a prison and a shithole, I'm not impressed.

I had an awesome fucking weekend. I've got enough cigarettes to last me at least a month if not two, met a lame-ass vampire who was actually pretty decent, argued with and cut a business deal with Bond. But the best part? An octopus tried to rip my face off because I mighta accidentally stumbled across his secret porn career. If that doesn't spell fucking magical to you, we have zero shot at being friends.

If I knew I was going to end up here with this kind of lifestyle, I would've died sooner.