1st ғʟɪʀᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ☽O☾ [video]

[malefice]

[ When the video feed comes to life, Isaac is lounging on a rather plush chair looking far more smug than he ever has in his life. He's got a cup of tea balancing on one of the arm rests and next to it a plate of biscuits - quite the sweet tooth at the moment apparently. Two things stick out like a sore thumb - the amount of stubble on the usually babyfaced teenager and the white gauze pad above his eyebrow. Of course when "Isaac" opens his mouth it becomes apparent quickly that either A) Isaac has developed a European accent or B) this isn't Isaac. ]

I'll say, one moment I was smack dab in The French Quarter and then I found myself here and I haven't a bloody clue how it happened.

[ He purses his lips a bit indignantly before speaking again. ]

And while I have to assume the company here is far superior to the company I was forced to keep there - I'm not a big fan of this unbreakable boundary spell. I'd like to meet the witch that cast it.

Comments

[malefice]

[ The Pie Maker shouldn't be offended or baffled, Kol calls people who hate his guts Darling even, it's just who he is. He almost asks the man what he's making, but then he starts feeding Kol information and he listens politely instead. ]

Where do they get up to? [ Kol wants to hunt one of them down and poke at them with magic, is that such a big deal. ]

Whiskey? [ He can't help but grimace at the butchered phrase, squinting a bit as his eyebrows tug together. ]

[wordvomit]

I...don't know, you seemed more like a whiskey man than I am, butthat'sbesidesthepoint, it's- I can't...really say? In good faith, I mean, we're sort of like an ant farm that occasionally gets shaken up and don't get exposed to the- ah, ruler...types?

[Terrible metaphor aside, Ned isn't sure anyone should actively desire contact with Their Respective Majesties, but it's this guy's funeral.

The Pie Maker is trying to keep his dead-waking quota low, you understand.]

[malefice]

[ The response makes Kol grin a little - this guy is a bit awkward, isn't he? ]

Delightful.

[ Kol eyes him, obviously this guy isn't going to be very helpful and it seems like it isn't actually malicious. ]

But I don't fancy being in an ant farm.

[wordvomit]

["A little bit" implies a small to moderate amount of awkward, a piece of silverware clattering to the floor and an embarrassed laugh. Apologies all around.

Ned is like the dropped platter of dishes and entrees in a country club dining room when everything's suddenly gotten quiet.]

Who does?

[He rolls one shoulder in a half-shrug. The other half is left somewhere in the recesses of his mind, which isn't communicating well with his body today.]

This is sort of one of those rare cases where we don't really have a choice in the matter.

[malefice]

I'm sure there's someone out there that does - you'd be amazed by all the sorts that inhabit existence.

[ I mean really, Silas had followers that wanted him to bring hell on Earth... ]

Hmmm. I'm no stranger to free will being taken away from me - but you, why are you so calm with it?

[ A curious pause. ]

How long've you been held captive here?

[wordvomit]

[Oh, the Pie Maker is aware that there are strange folk in the world - he happens to be one of them - but he doesn't pursue the argument for that express reason. No need to draw any more attention to himself.]

Oh, I'm not calm.

[That's his secret, pal. He's never calm. Ned's constant anxiety is a roller-coaster of emotional torment on a good day, but he's trying to work on that. Chronic nervousness doesn't get people to visit the diner for pie.]

I've just been here for- um...eight months. Ish.