helluvamess | [tlv] character inbox

[oh that's a very bitter, tired smile Trevor's wearing now. His 'line' of warden-inmate pairs - Lark, him, Dimitri - all had the same anger and pissiness against the Admiral that Blitzø is even now starting to display. He wonders if all inmates go through this or if it's just their own special brand of asshole]

One of the many reasons I hate him. Sure.

He gives a file to the permanent pairs but it's sometimes worse than useless.

[He stills completely at that.]

...what kind of file?

[He withdraws Blitzø's file from his cloak and holds it out for him to take]

[He takes the file and flicks through it just enough to see what it says, know exactly how detailed it is.

Then he will try to tear it to bits. He imagines that the Admiral has probably made it impossible, but he's sure gonna try.]

[well he should have figured that was going to happen. Trevor watches: the file is only made of paper, nothing magical about it.

He knows firsthand how intrusive these things can feel]

[Blitzø is clearly surprised as not only the paper tears in his claws, but Trevor makes no move to stop him. His gaze flicks to the other man and he pauses for a moment, clearly waiting for the reprimand or grab for the file, but when it doesn't come he immediately shreds the thing into as many tiny pieces as he can manage.]

How much did you read?

All of it. Once.

[And it didn’t really turn him off - on the other hand, it cemented in his mind how much of an asshole the Admiral was to pair them.

He read it to be prepared for what he was going to go into, not so much to be intrusive. Even if it felt that way. (It always feels that way to him)]

[His tail lashes like an angry cat.]

Right, so guess you know how much of fucking failure I am. Kinda surprised you even wanna try this fucking graduation bullshit. You know it won't fucking work now.

[yeah fuck you too, Admiral. Trevor rubs at his face, rather than curse that entity out loud]

Actually, I was going to say that you’re not half as bad as some people here.

Christ on a stick, were you dropped on your head constantly or something? Aren't you supposed to be a monster hunter or something, and you're being nice to an actual fucking demon?

[in a tone that indicates he’s pretending to be hurt]

No, I wasn’t dropped on my head.

Most actual fucking demons I meet are trying to kill me at first sight.

Your coffee’s shite enough to be poisonous though. If I shit myself to death in an hour I’m going to be pissed off.

…

[serious tone back now!]

You’re not genocidal. You’re fucking annoying and you kill for money but you at least kill for understandable reasons. There’s plenty here who do it for fun or out of boredom. Already you’re not half as bad.

And you’re not needlessly cruel. You don’t torture. You don’t play with your food. Already that puts you ahead of almost every vampire I’ve ever met.

You don’t hurt animals. You’re not out here honing your skills because you love the sound of screams. You don’t eat what you murder, you don’t make contracts with kids. All these are people on this ship I’ve met at one point or another. So I’m not trying to bullshit you.

Yeah well, if you shit yourself to death it's because you weren't fucking tough enough to deal with it. [Blitzø retorts, then sniffles but not because he's fucking upset or touched or anything, it's because his apartment is a dusty mess, shut up.]

Probably have an easier time if I did do all that shit. Then you could just tell the Admiral where to shove it.

[going to do the kindest thing he knows how and just pretend like Blitzø isn’t tearing up]

I already do. Often. Just not for shit like this.

Look, I didn’t come here because I wanted to tell you what to do or to hold your file over your head. I came here because an evil Necromancer who kidnaps the dead wanted us to play nice. I never respected the warden inmate divide when I came here as an inmate, probably never going to, because there’s good inmates and bad wardens same as there are the reverse. It’s a game to him.

You were handed shit in life. And I hate being a warden here. It’s where I can do the most good by the inmates but don’t think for a second I won’t demote myself if I feel it’s the right thing to do.

I don’t want anyone here who doesn’t want to be here. I’m tired of deals made off the backs of the kidnapped dead.

[He'd already known that Trevor had been an inmate before becoming a warden, but if there had been any doubt about that, it's dispelled now. He can't imagine anyone who agreed to this whole warden deal would talk about it like that.]

Don't fucking demote yourself, shit for brains. Seems like this place could use more fuckers like you. And I don't want anyone else to read up on me either.

[Blitzø mutters a curse and scrubs at his face.]

Satan's ass, you're right this coffee is shit. Maybe should use a deal for that.

[He gives a self-depreciating sort of chuckle]

Funny, that's what Sweeney tells me. Same insults and everything.

[He nods, setting the mug down on the table]

Yeah, it is. C'mon. Got something stronger in my cabin.

Fuck me, don't tell me I'm getting predictable on this shit too.

[He jumps down, picking up Trevor's cup and taking both of them to the little kitchen to dump out the contents.]

Maybe you should listen to him then, been here longer than I have and probably knows what the fuck he's talking about.

No, I think I just have that effect on people.

[He nods his thanks, getting up for the door.]

I think I've been here as long as he has. We're friends.

That long, huh? [Oh right, he remembers someone else who's friends with both of them as well.]

Met another warden who knows you, said she doesn't like your style much. But did share a rumour that you've got a pretty big fucking package.

Shaw.

[And the temperature in the room drops several degrees at the mention of her name]

Yeah. I know.

[Oh that's interesting. Shaw had said she didn't like Trevor's wardening, but this smells like beef between them and he's immediately curious.]

Ohhh something fucking happened between you two? Spill. We talking arguing about how to warden better or bad break up, someone pissed in someone's cheerios, something like that?

It’s a long story. Just not a very interesting one.

Short version is…

She doesn’t listen to anyone and I hate the way she treats inmates. After the last port we were in, I decided I was done. I don’t know why she still wants to irritate the people who were willing to die to get her out, but since all it would do is end in yet another argument, I figured she can just find another convenient target for her shit.

How's she treat inmates? [He hadn't thought she was so bad when they'd met, buuuut they'd been talking shit about past lays so who knows what might have happened if they'd talked about something more relevant.

He has to jog a little to keep up with Trevor's strides, luckily the room Trevor is headed for is only the next level, so it's not too far.]

Like born criminals or bombs about to go off. Even the peaceful ones. Every inmate.

[Trevor’s face doesn’t change but he does try to slow down for Blitz, just a little. He’s still thinking about how much Shaw gets under his skin]

She wouldn’t listen to me explain the ship when wardens and inmates switched places and powers. Tried to throw her authority around, lock up all the “dangerous” ones and harshly question all the ones who just wanted to do their fucking jobs without getting harassed. It was her first week. She didn’t want to listen to anyone who told her that if she treats people with respect she’ll get respect in kind. She wanted to bully everyone back into place with nothing more than a gun and attitude.

I warned her that going in like that would get her killed. I looked out for her, tried to introduce her to some inmates who didn’t fit this projected image she had coming onto the ship.

We separated so I could help feed the ship and she went and got killed for picking on someone bigger than her.

You won’t hear an apology from her or an admission that she was wrong. She’s stubborn, which normally wouldn’t be so bad except she hates me for arming the inmates.

I was an inmate. I was tortured by one warden. I watched wardens get demoted for killing inmates. I was handed off by my own pairing to others to “handle” me. I’ve had my weapons pulled from me three time, had a curse placed on me so that I couldn’t intervene if I saw someone in danger. A warden once wore the face of my dead sister to mock me and see what I’d do.

Being armed makes me feel safe, even if I don’t plan to use any of it. I’ve seen how bad some wardens can get.

Amazing that the only time I’ve been killed in two years here, it was when I was flood-affected and transformed into a giant fuck-off skeleton.

[he goes to unlock his door]

Seriously, she expected this place to be an actual prison? [Which honestly, he'd thought that too on arriving and being called an 'inmate', but it'd be pretty fucking obvious almost immediately that it wasn't quite like that.]

Pretty obvious that the Admiral doesn't actually want this place to be like that. Or give a shit about much of anything. Fuck even knows why he's bringing people here.

[A lot of that... sounds pretty fucked up. Blitzø tries not to react too much to it, since he'd pretty much expect the same, but the mention of a dead sister makes him wince despite himself.]

And they're supposed to be making us 'better'? This is just sounding more and more like the Admiral just picks it randomly and wants to see what we all fucking do left alone.

I’m not so sure he doesn’t pick at random. Would explain why he put me in charge or looking after a scared fifteen year old inmate when I was still an inmate myself, because the ship was going crazy again and people were dying left and right and I asked him to give her her weapons back.

So yeah. I arm inmates. Always have, always will.

[Trevor pushes open the door to reveal a literal hoarder’s paradise of weaponry.

It’s a small bedroom, clean and clearly not used from just the fact that there are daggers littering the entirety of the bed. Pikes, swords, and axes of different sizes are attached to the stone walls with hand-made holders. There’s a chest at the foot of the bed that holds a few maces and flails and some odds and ends, like brass knuckles and lighters.

A bathroom door leads to a place where arm cuffs and whips are hanging up on a string over the tub, clearly commandeered as a place for washing and stretching leather instead.

There are two work stations: one holds the few guns Trevor has, ranging from the flintlocks to more modern pistols, as well as a modest attempt at making bullets, with a book open about it. The second workstation is clearly just a whiskey still, repurposed to start producing some more explosive elements.

There’s a tapestry, old and rich, depicting St George killing the dragon. A window sits opposite the door, showing that this bedroom as it once was had been built up in a manor. It’s overlooking a training ground and a forest.

There’s a sign out sheet at the first table where inmates have written what weapons they’ve taken out so Trevor can keep track and replace what he needs to at ports.

He goes to crouch under the bed, removing one of the floorboards so he can get out some of the better beer hidden away]

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