genessia | Bully in the Gutters~ [Video // Action for Everglade]

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Bully in the Gutters~ [Video // Action for Everglade]

[A balmy autumn day in Everglade seems as good a day as any to take on a less life-threatening bounty, and Namur's been eyeballing this one for awhile anyway. It's a good excuse to do some busy work and just be moving around for a few hours. It takes awhile to gather enough hose and find a water source that'd reach all the way up to the roof, but by the time the sun is high he can be found on the roof with a brush broom borrowed from the witch next door. Getting caught up in the breeze with nothing above him but cloud-speckled skies takes him back a few years, before he knew anything about Time Compression or alternate dimensions or whatever the hell they were living in. It's like swabbing the deck in a lot of ways- with the occasional ghostly rodent skittering out of Miss Tilly's haunted gutters. But he's got an enchanted broom, so it works plenty fine for launching the incorporeal creatures off the roof and back into the nearby haunted woods. Feeling rather fine, Namur begins to sing, sweeping out the gutters in perfect rhythm- though his voice leaves a lot to be desired. In fact, it's so bad he catches the attention of a couple of mischievous imps who, upon finding his communicator, decide that if they have to suffer, so does everyone else.]

[Namur sounds rather like a yowling tomcat, singing a catchy tune as he dances with his broom.]

Help me Bob, I'm bully in the alley,
Wey hey, Bully in the alley.
Help me Bob, I'm bully in the alley,
Bully down in Shinbone Al.

Sally is a girl that I love dearly,
Wey hey, Bully in the alley.
Sal's the girl that I spliced nearly,
Bully down in Shinbone Al.

For nine long years I courted li'l Sally,
Wey hey, Bully in the alley.
All She done was dilly an' dally,
Bully down in Shinbone Al.

So I left Sally t' become a pirate
Wey hey, Bully in the alley.
Gold an' jewels, Gan Fall, I'll take it!
Bully down in Shinbone Al.

Get thru some 'hoo an' go an' see my Sally,
Wey hey, Bully in the alley.
Throw her a line an' make fast in her alley.
Bully down in Shinbone Al

When I get home, I'll find my li'l Sally,
Wey hey, Bully in the alley.
Spawn six pups an' live in Shinbone alley,
Bully down in Shinbone A-

Ah shit.

[Namur bonked the head of a ghost mouse and spun the broom to fling it off- only the head of the broom flew out into the forest as well. The imps dissolve into riotous laughter and cut the feed as Namur looks out over the edge, trying to gauge where it might have gone.]

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[Leanne tilts her head at the sound of singing. She blinks and watches Namur sing and.... She never saw a fish laguz. She couldn't help but to start to hum along when suddenly the singing stopped.]

What happened, my lord?

[It's only because he has really good hearing that he notices the heron princess's voice coming from his communicator- now abandoned by the imps and laying on the edge of a brick chimney.]

Huh? Think y' got the wrong number, sweetheart.

Didn't make this post, my lord?

Post...

[He doesn't quit the feed while he scrolls up and finds the video. Leanne can probably hear a tinny, mechanical rendition of the song he was just singing. More interesting, though, is probably the color his face turns as he realizes he's been punked.]

Shit. 'Parently I did. Sorry, sweetheart! Don't no one wanna hear that humpback caterwaulin'! 'S fine tho, jus' singin' a song from the good ol' days. Nothin's dyin', so don'tcha be gettin' all worried or nothin'. Sheheheh!

[Caelestis was doing one last patrol of Everglade's streets before he'd planned to vacate to another city for a while to calm his mind. Things weren't particularly eventful - not yet, anyway - so despite having his saber drawn, he was more at ease at the moment than he usually was in this city.

That is, until the head of a particular broom bonked him on the head and startled him, causing the blue and white feathers on his head to puff out and perk up as he fell into an immediate battle stance. His eyes eventually fell onto the broom head on the ground and he slowly relaxed, though his feathers were still puffed up.]

... that is not something I had anticipated.

[Namur's wanders by looking for the broom's head a few minutes later, quietly muttering and cursing to himself. He really does not want to think what the nice witch lady next door will do to him if he gives her back nothing more than the shaft.

He comes up to Caelestis after a bit, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.]

Hey man, got a kinda weirdass question for y'. How's yer eyesight?

You have a nice singing voice.

[Airy smiles at the screen.]

Is Sally a person or is it just a song?

[He turns to Namur and tips his hat, his ear feathers slowly de-puffing themselves.]

It's quite good, actually. Why?

[He's an eagle, so of course his eyes are good. Even if he was slightly confused by that question. 'Weirdass' indeed.]

[Ted's elated. Not only is he serving Everglade again, but singing! Not something done nearly enough, even if his voice was as rotten as his soul. This third time charmed Ted so much, he resolved to meet him and share his own verse while he went to visit.]

"A sea shanty! If anything could make me love pirates...well, allow me some poetry of my own. Ahem." [Yep, he finished that sonnet he's been working on. Remember, Namur, you asked for this.]

Ichthys
Auspicious fortune wrapped and sent my way
Both fish and man along fate’s blessed flow
We spoke of work and how to earn one’s pay
I bore my heart which he then set aglow
Time’s culmination bade his home to me
Where fateful words uncovered riches still
Yet treasure hid and lost itself to sea
Dear dreams cannot be if he will not will
What scraps of gold I’ve gained stoke longing’s fire
Yet brackish waters cloud the briny deep
Good lures alone can grant my heart’s desire
To purify and cleanse his soul to keep
The ransom paid the day the veil was torn
Pray take the gift and prove one water born

Edited 2016-09-06 01:47 (UTC)

Everglade is a place that puts him on edge. It's like the mists but without the certain security of them. The feel of belonging and not!home. But it is his duty to patrol them, in as much as he has one, and so he does--

Though nearly jumping out of his skin as he hears the first yowly note. At first he thinks it's a cat in pain but if it is it has remarkable lyrical abilities. So Joseph follows the source of the noise to find a familiar--if somewhat terrifying up close]

Hello. ...Um...that's a nice song... you're [butchering] singing

Cuz mine's shit an' I gotta find a bit a wood that flew off int' the forest here. Can't really smell it 'mongst all the other bits a wood layin' 'round, catch me? Kinda a brushy thing, yay big, with a hole in the middle like it might fit on the end a some broomstick.

[Of course, Namur indicates with his hands the approximate size and shape of the broom's head.]

Think y' could see somethin' like that if y' glance 'round?

Whaleshit, but thanks anyway sweetheart.

[He doesn't even try not to blush, having already found out about the practical joke. Namur scratches his fingertips behind his pink-tipped ears.]

Uh. 'S both, actually. Makes me think a her, but I ain't the one that wrote it, if that's what yer divin' at.

[Namur doesn't remember, actually, since it wasn't anything more than a throwaway comment. So he winds up crouched on the edge of Miss Tilly's rooftop like a gargoyle, head cocked to the side, jaw slack as he tries to fathom what the hell Ted is going on about this time.]

Uh wha-?

[He turns his head the other direction, brows furrowing, before he finally yells down incredulously.]

Schoolie Boy, 're y' confessin'? Can't swing that way, sorry man! But hey! If y' see a shitty brush broom head, lemme know! Borrowed it from a witch an' she'll probly turn me int' a bird or some shit if I don't get it back t' her all put t'gether! Damn thing went flyin' int' the forest, see?

[He holds up the headless broomstick, so he can see that it's basically just a very straight stick at the moment.]

Oh y' like that dirty shit, huh? Think I got a better'n up in here somewhere!

[Namur points to his head.]

Wanna hear?

[Ted's hopes remain unfixed from reality. All fourteen lines, wasted!]

"Should've known you'd have your head in the gutter. Not all love is erotic!" [He shouts back and looks anyway. His observational skills are among the worst in the world, so only fortune would allow him to find anything.]

"You've got questionable sense, indebting yourself to a witch. Can't be helped now, I suppose. While I'm searching, I might as well search your brain, and pose a few questions. What does your name mean? And can you juggle?"

Edited 2016-09-07 03:02 (UTC)

[Namur thumps his hand against the edge of the literal gutter he's currently sort of occupying, then stands and heads up the roof for the hose. If he can't brush, at the very least he can spray things down and get the ghostly rodents on the move.]

Dunno if I can juggle, but I'm damn good with my hands- [He clicks his tongue a few times hahaaaaa] -so maybe?

Ain't got no idea where my name comes from or if it has like a translation or whatever, 's jus' what my Ma called me. So it means me, whatever the hell I make it mean. Some people hear it an' get real scared. Some hear it an' have hope. Some think of a dumbass, some think a the best damn lay they ever had, some think of a brother, or a father, or a son. [He shrugs.] I'unno. What's yers mean?

[Ted wished that the more he got to know people, the more dearly he should like it. Alas, first impressions are lies, and he's uncovering a lot of dirt. Promiscuity, presumably. Why should one so used to water be unclean? And he took a cleaning job at that. So much contradictory symbolism.]

"All right then, give it a try. I'd like to see." Ted took out three yellow balls from his sack and pitched them to Namur. "If it's not too slack of you while working." [Ted, no surprise, hadn't made any progress on the broom front. He speaks the answer more quietly for shyness.]

"...it means 'god-given'. Now, that 8 on your neck, what is it's full significance?"

Edited 2016-09-07 03:51 (UTC)

[Why do so many people swear here.]

Who wrote it then? Did she?

[He listens to Namur carefully, but once he mentioned it'd fit on a broomstick Caeli's eyes glanced downward to that mysterious broom head that had just smacked him moments ago. He kneeled down and took it in hand, holding it up to show it to him.]

I don't suppose it's this you're looking for, is it?

Holy shit y' found it fast! Thanks man! I'd a been turned int' a rat or some shit if I'd lost it!

.... Probly.

Anyway y' weren't kiddin' 'bout 'em bein' good. What's yer name? Owe y' one.

[Hell if he knows!]

Yeaaaah, probly not. 'S jus' a song people sing. Like Mary had a li'l lamb or whatever. If I know a girl named Mary does that mean one a us wrote the damn thing? Naw, but it'd still make me think a her, catch me?

[Namur has quick reflexes, even when surprised. He drops the hose and bats the balls high into the air, to give himself a moment to think. He's... pretty sure he's seen people juggling before. It has a certain rhythm to it. And maybe some weaving?

He probably should have paid at least some attention to them in the past, but he's not even sure what it's supposed to look like really. So a valiant attempt is made, but in the end even he recognizes that just catching the balls and throwing them up in succession isn't quite the right thing, so he chucks them back down at Ted.]

Show me what this shit's s'posed t' look like. Ain't never sat down an' really watched it, aye?

[Not that he could see very much from two stories up, but whatever. The general motion of it ought to register, if he squints. He sits at the edge of the roof again, not even caring about the still running hose getting his pants wet, and runs his finger over the tattoo on his neck. He'd modified it in Balamb, added a few things to show Marco he was on board. It'd now look almost scarab-like, but Namur kept the newer parts purposely thinner so the 8 would be most prominent.

But how to explain all that it means?]

'S for my Division. My brothers I gotta take care of, gotta be strong 'nuff t' protect. An' for Marco, cuz our father died, an' we're a hell of a long way from home, an' we had t' make a new kind a family. Rest a 'em changed up their crew mark- 's got the Whitebeard Pirates as a base, an' adds a few things for the Phoenix Pirates- but Marco wanted me t' be the go-between, in case we found other brothers that weren't there with us in Balamb. So we modded up my Division mark instead.

[Namur untucks his shirt and lifts the right side, showing a cross with a semicircle tattooed just above his hip. It's easy to see how it could be turned into the mark Namur sent him earlier- just complete the circle and add wings. He tucks his shirt back in after a few seconds.]

So I'm both a Whitebeard an' a Phoenix pirate. Commander a the Eighth Division that don't exist no more.

What's yer family like?

[The balls bounce off his head and back; he was absorbed in the talk. Oh, and the search, can't forget that. Now he's got the balls to look for on top of the broom-head. So much to look for, on top of Namur's latent juggling talent.]

"Heh, don't know myself either. I'm surprised you've never seen; not a lot of circuses on the high seas, eh? You'd fit right in one of their sideshow attractions. Well, you can see videos of most anything on the internet; I'll send you one some time." [Then again, Genessia was such a motley bunch of freaks that a circus would be redundant.]

[For such a relatively upbeat guy, Namur's tales of piracy seem to be pretty sad, almost sentimental. Dead fathers, broken families, lost wars, and faded purpose. Ted was plaintive as he listened and looked.]

"Whitebeard...I hope that's more benevolent than its darker counterpart. And Phoenix...are those names or something else?" [It may be basic conversational parity, but not many people ask about Ted's family. It gave him pause as he thought of a way to speak honestly about his, yet nicely.]

"Heh, mine? Well they were--er, still are, likely--very...fashionable people. They believed in trying anything once, childbearing included. I'm the first and the last; fashion, being very fastidious about overpopulation, frowned upon any more. Probably for the best; they were of modest means. Happily married too. In that they defied fashion very nobly."

[Namur does his best not to bristle. He knows what a circus is, and knows what a freak show is, and damn it Ted, stop saying shit that ties in with being treated like an animal rather than a person. Dumbass.]

Didn't like 'em much, huh? 'S that why y' dress like y' do? T' fight 'gainst fashion? Cuz seriously dude. Get help.

[Namur picks up the broomhandle, stabs it through the nearby muck still hanging out in the gutter, and knocks a bunch of it down to the ground. It's not very effective. So he lays down the handle again, and casually jumps off the roof. He lands in a crouch, Willing the force of his momentum outward rather than letting it bounce back through him. He picks up one of Ted's balls and chucks it at him. Again.]

Whitebeard's the name the world gave t' Pops, an' he thought it was funny, so he owned it. An' Marco is a phoenix. See a bigass bird with feathers like blue flames an' a gaudy as hell fire crown on his head, that's him.

[He didn't say "freak", he said "attraction". Gosh Namur, such a negative Nancy.]

"Oh, no! I liked them plenty. Loved them, too. [He'd be the second to rag on his rags. The first being one of the most fastidiously feminine people he's ever known. Namur isn't the first person he'd think of to care for aesthetics.] One of the tragedies of modernity, eh? Colors and threads are so readily available that any could look like the brightest and richest kings. And no one wants to, choosing, say, drab tees and jeans instead. I'd chalk that to your modesty if I knew you less.

[Ted's more spatially acute when he pays no attention, so he catches it this time in an act of pure reflex. One down, two to go!] "So I've discovered..." [Damn you, Marco, tricking him into lovingly caressing a pirate. Mark his mental words, he will pay.] "Suppose he'll die hard then. Has he lived for five hundred years or so? If we're lucky we might seem him be reborn from ashes."

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Bully in the Gutters~ [Video // Action for Everglade]

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