helluvamess | [tlv] character inbox

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]

[Blitzø gives a low whistle as he walks into the room.]

Satan's ass, I've only seen this much in some of that weird medieval torture porn shit. You got some kind of weird kink I should be worried about?

[His hands itch to start checking out the knives and guns, but with some effort Blitzø keeps his hands in his pockets. He figures after the whole kitchen incident, he should probably avoid getting on Trevor's bad side if he can help it for a while.

But he does look, and it's easy to see that the collection definitely veers old school.]

Guess the Admiral doesn't like you having guns much? Pity I couldn't bring mine, then we could really round out the weaponry.

[He snorts, sorting through the bottles under the floor]

Noo~oo. I just..my family collects weapons. Books. Spells. Anything that might be useful for us or future monster hunters.

[He starts pulling one or two bottles up from the floor, stacking it next to him]

Fuck, Christmas store's almost out.

Huh?

[Trevor goes to sit up at the mention of the Admiral, and ends up whacking his head on the bed's base. He grumbles, rubbing the bump on the back of his skull and scoots back out]

Oh.

No, this is just what I've had a chance to collect in ports. Had to start over a few times when I was an inmate. Some of it's still in the hidden speakeasy, probably.

When we stop off at a new port, I'll take you with me, you can pick out what you like. I don't know much about good guns, didn't want to get ripped off. Or have it blow up in my face.

[Trevor gets to his feet, carrying over the bottles and hands one to Blitzø]

Though if you see something you like now, my rules are: sign out what you take so I can replace it and don't do something stupid with it that's going to get me demoted because the Admiral'll just disappear all of it anyway.

Oh, and know what you're working with, but I figured you already did.

Future monster hunters being Junior, huh?

[The clink of bottles has him finally dragging his gaze away from the weaponry, and he's reminded of what Trevor had really come here for. He watches the bottles appear and, as Trevor smacks the back of his head, Blitzø snorts.]

Bet that fucking hurt. So how many of you fuckers are making booze here? I know for a fact there's at least another warden doing the same.

[He's not sure if he really believes the offer for him to 'pick something out' at a port. The bottle is accepted though and he uncorks it to take a sniff, then chugs some of it. It could be paint thinner for all he cares, so long as it gets the job done.]

So you're why Sebastian has a gun?

Richter? Yeah. Kid's three hundred years into my future. Little bit of a shit, but who isn't at 19?

[he adores his descendant]

Who knows? I inherited this from another warden before he left. Everyone knows I collect shit like this. My first months here I was basically drunk all the time.

[He uncorks his own bottle and scoots over some of the daggers so he can sit down on the bed. Yeah, it hurt. thanks Blitzø]

No, that one was probably Hakkai or someone else. I'm more the edged weapons kind of person. Surprised Sebastian even wanted a gun.

Yeah, Warden Gunshow. Gotta be weird seeing someone that far away from you though. Surprise, a whole ass kid you wanna watch out for and shit, even if they don't always want that.

[He takes another swig and falls silent, because that's a fucking mood and it's unsettling to think that Trevor might even know who he's talking about if he does mention Loona. So he doesn't.]

Eh, he's a demon, we're usually all the fucking same about getting our hands on whatever might give us an edge. Especially if we can also kill fuckers with it.

oh my god.

[Trevor mutters under his breath. Thank you, Blitzø, for that image. He drinks to clear his head of it]

It's hard sometimes. Most of the time.

[Watching Richter, wanting to protect him and knowing he can't.]

Guess all you can do is be proud of them and let them know it.

[He knows about Loona. If Blitzø doesn't want to bring her up, he won't either. But he'll imply, just a bit]

Yeah. I'd have figured him to be more hands-on with his kills. Sebastian's deadly, the gun might just be set dressing to keep those who don't know him away from him.

[Hey it could have been a lot worse, Trevor.]

Yeah, well. I hope you're doing that because it's gonna be fucking weird if anyone else does. Seems like he knows what he's doing at least, even if he should do something about that stick up his ass.

Guess that part's not from your side at least.

He's a Belmont.

[Trevor says this both in a way that indicates familial fondness and complete and utter exasperation]

That stick up his ass is probably one of the things that's kept him alive all this time. It props him up, like the world's shittiest scarecrow.

I don't know, seems like you got rid of yours if you had one.

[He takes another swig of his drink.]

So the warden who tortured you... they're not still here, are they?

Well. I'm kind of the black sheep of my family.

[He gives a grim smile]

No. Some of the sanctimonious ones are still here, but no one outright dangerous that I'd need to warn you about.

Fucking tell me about it. Pretty sure that the Admiral just flips a coin with some of them.

...what about the fucker who tried to use your sister against you?

Also gone.

[and he hated that one.]

It's just...when I look at the shit that I went through here, the ones who made my hair stand on end and my fists ache were almost always on the other side of things.

..So that's why Shaw and I don't really get along. She reminds me too much of the string of people that tied my hands behind my back.

[Well it looked like he didn't need to kneecap anyone right away then. Not that he's about to tell Trevor he'd been considering that.

Instead Blitzø takes another drink and shoves more knives over to perch on the bed as well.]

Yeah well, other than Malcolm being the biggest dumbfuck I've met when he puts on his 'warden' hat, most of you fuckers aren't that bad. Just don't go around telling people I said that shit.

[He chuckles and nods, the tension in his frame easing somewhat. He sits back against the bedpost, the one with all the initials carved into it]

None of them - us - get training in it. No instructions, nothing. I graduated and the next month I was handed the leash of someone who had been where I was a few weeks ago. It's horseshit.

Leaves a lot of new wardens stumbling.

So you could graduate, then be put in charge of someone you talked shit about wardens with like a week ago?

Satan's ass, Admiral Fuckhead has to be taking the piss at this point. You could flip everyone's roles just as easily and it wouldn't fucking matter.

I know. I know. Hey.

[he nudges Blitzo gently with his boot]

You’re in experienced hands. I already got one inmate off this ship. Helped a few more out indirectly.

Don’t worry. Won’t let anyone fuck you over.

Not just with the graduating inmates either, judging from that bedpost.

You gonna use those experienced hands on me, huh?

[He snorts, and shakes his head]

Sorry. Taken.

Anyway. This is..

[his hand trails up the bedpost. All the initials end with a B.]

I was twelve the last time I lived here.

[Blitzø leans over to get a better look at them and now he can see the pattern of last names.]

All your siblings?

One of them, before she got married and moved out to let me have it. Most of them are ancestors.

[A brief wave at the window]

This bedroom's part of the ancestral home before it burned down. Generations of kids used to live here.

[Trevor gives a tight, grim smile.]

Guess 'don't throw away anything useful' doesn't apply just to weapons.

Edited 2024-03-31 11:32 (UTC)

The kind of fuckers with 'ancestral homes' usually don't. They've got this kind of shit that lasts forever too.

[Which is actually weird as Trevor didn't strike him as coming from a well-off background. But maybe it's different with monster hunters.]

Why'd it burn down?

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