238

Mar. 8th, 2014 07:40 pm
impure_tale: (tell me more)
I suppose I'm lacking in a suitable mass of other writers aboard this ship to glean the answers I am hoping for, but I pose this question to the populous in general: Suppose you were writing your own history, and you came upon passages that you have no qualms discussing, but they happen to be rather private matters for another party. Do you wait for the opportunity to ask their permission, write the tale anyhow, or take another route entirely?

[Private to the Admiral]

I would like to request that Loki's abilities to create illusions be returned to him, with one stipulation: I want to be able to tell when he is using them, without him knowing.

Rather underhanded, I know, but this is just as much for the safety of others, against whom he might use those powers, as it is for mine and his protection.

I need not be given the ability to see through them completely, but some outward sign -- a tinge to the eye color, a visible ripple in space, something of that nature.

[Spam for Loki, set Before the Post]

[While his Inmate remained abed he let himself in to check on him. As the days wore on, periodic checks became extended vigils, as such that he might spend several hours reading and keeping watch. At present he's delving through Voltaire's Candide.]

impure_tale: (a good story)
[The sound of happy barking in the background.]

It would seem that I took an unexpected leave of absence. My apologies to everyone I did not speak to beforehand, and it is my sincerest hopes that I did not give you a fright.

To the many new arrivals that have come in the time I have been gone: Welcome, and enjoy your stay.

To all others: Happy New Year? 

231

Oct. 26th, 2013 02:19 pm
impure_tale: (red ink)
To my fellow Inmates, a short broadcast for the time being:

I would be remiss in my role here if I were not to acknowledge that this ship is on the precipice of change, and for better or worse we know not what lies in store for us. Whatever its outcome, we must continue to entertain the notion that we will remain as we are, and this may gladden the hearts of very few.

It is my sad station that words are all that I can offer you and I continue to hope they bring some comfort. Keep home in your hearts, thoughts of skies, of pleasant smells and tastes, of warm feelings and kinder faces. You left them as heroes and every day that you resist, you continue to be heroes.

Behind this iron door, across the air and the barriers between us I reach out my hand to you.

I honor you.

I love you.

(ooc: Some things of note -- the Marquis is still an Inmate and has been for a long time. Presently unsorted, his door is unlocked, but much in the way he was when he first came to the real Barge, he can't comprehend that it's unlocked even though people can come and go pretty much freely. I'd like to presume that in times like this, when a Warden isn't assigned to bring him food, he patiently waits for someone he's friendly with to do it. Volunteers welcome.)

226

Jul. 11th, 2013 09:44 am
impure_tale: (really.)
There is nothing more  frustrating to a writer than lacking the motivation to finish a project that was finished once before and then lost.

I'll never forgive that cow for as long as I exist.

[Private to Rassilon]

I hope I've given you ample time to look over the play.

215

Jan. 25th, 2013 09:42 pm
impure_tale: (writing)
I do enjoy those adventures where changed, though I am, a writer I remain. Even as the memories, the little personality quirks, the impulses of another man slip away, it is a comfort to hold on to something familiar -- something to grant me kinship with that other person.

I would like to piece together some of the details about that place if anyone should like to share. Monsieur Desaid was an admirably persistent researcher, enough to know there was something untoward about that community, but how deep did it go? 

Monsieur de Lioncourt, I trust you are prepared to announce to me that you have found an alternative occupation? If you have not, I should certainly like to hear  that the lavatories have been positively sparkling.

212

Dec. 2nd, 2012 09:23 pm
impure_tale: (I suppose)
This cold weather! I cannot imagine the agony I would be in were my body as old as it had been when I first passed.

Far from important, however. I had wondered if I might trouble some of the baking and cooking experts on this ship for a favor. I'm coming to find that my terrible old sweet tooth has been reawakened, and I can hardly shop for bon bons in a place such as this, can I? I have little I can repay you with but it would warm this old libertine's heart considerably to have real chocolate pastilles again.

[Private to Pyro]

You, young man, are going to need to learn to pick your battles a mite more carefully.

203

Aug. 8th, 2012 01:37 pm
impure_tale: (preposterous)
Gad, has it truly been so long since I last penned an entry?

This is what happens when you forsake the modern conveniences for traditional parchment and ink, my lovelies. It escapes you. Am I very missed, I wonder?

(ooc: The Marquis has had time to lick his wounds, so to speak, but he's been fairly non-present elsewhere on the Barge. Attending meals but not much for conversation, walking his dog, and of course, humming in his room while he writes.)
impure_tale: (a good story)
To my beloved readers: today I bring you a more popular tale, plucked for once not from these hallowed halls, but instead from the nation of my birth, but I caution you. Its contents are at best depraved and not for the faint of heart.

There was once upon a time a Doctor of impeccable reputation, thought of so highly throughout the provinces that one might have thought him a worker of miracles rather than the purveyor of simple modern medicine. At the aged thirty-eight, to match his seeming disposition, God saw fit to bless him with remarkably handsome features befitting a man ten years his junior, a commanding height, and an enviably regal bearing for a man born without blue in his veins. Strangers thought him kind, his contemporaries thought him shrewd and capable, and monarchs thought him the best that money could buy, naturally.

It is only natural, however, that if one is to truly know the character of a man, then the only person to consult is his wife, and if anyone had known that such a role had been filled, perhaps the fate of his secret bride would not have been so very terrible.

(Fake-Cut to a story)

(ooc: Someday I'll write a full chapter again! A lot of what can be read, here, is the usual De Sade fare, overly purply porn, but this leans more toward his more fucked up tales like Justine and the 120 Days. What unfolds can be described best as a lurid retelling of the famous Bluebeard fairy tale of old, with elements of his old writings in terms of style, but more polished. He still has a tendency to describe certain acts, events, and body parts with such ridiculous metaphors that it takes away from some of the seriousness of what's written. The intent, here, is a horror story, not a tale of titillation, but old dogs -- they learn new tricks slowly.)

189

Jan. 11th, 2012 12:07 pm
impure_tale: (I suppose)
It must be the time of year. Like clockwork the wells run dry. Far be it from me to shift the blame toward my neighbors for failing to inspire me, particularly when things of a dire nature have, in fact, been occurring. It is not as though there is not enough scandal from which to draw.
impure_tale: (a good story)
[Private to Iago]

We will talk, and we will talk civilly. Is that understood?

[Public]

At long last, my lovelies, a new chapter. My book on my early life, and eventual arrival here, finally continues. I invite those that have read the first and the second chapters to grant me their critiques and questions. A much longer sampling, but this part of the manuscript was difficult to divide.

Le Barge - The Afterlife and Adventures of a Condemned Libertine, Chapter 3 )
(ooc: I am so sorry this took so long to write :| It was originally much longer but I decided to cut it in half.)
impure_tale: (amused with himself)
My darlings, have I missed any announcement by the Admiral that there might be some festivities as this month draws to a close? I am not mistaken in thinking we feast every year, or have since I have come here. There is some occasion for the costumes purchased in port, oui? If none have been announced I propose we organize it ourselves. The ship could do with a little levity after so many days of fighting.

And to those faithful readers that have given me such encouraging feedback, I present to you a second chapter to the account I am attempting to transcribe:
Chapter 2 - The Life of a Libertine, Part One )

 

impure_tale: (a good story)

[What lies below is a transcribed copy of the book the Marquis is working on. He has placed it under cuts on the network so that those that don't want to read it do not have to.]

To my beloved. What follows in these pages are the account of my extraordinary experiences after the final great experience. The tales I tell are many and varied in tone, ranging from the cheerful to the debased, and with tremulous fingers I relate them to you now. I caution you that its content is more often than not scandalous by its nature, unrepentant in its brutal honesty, and perhaps a little under-edited. I cannot even guarantee you a happy ending. In terms of style and scope, it is an undertaking quite unlike any I have assumed in the past, so I warn you. There is no real ending as yet, even. But if you’ve a love for my old stories, submit some of that loyalty to me, now. If you are curious, turn the page. Tread with me faithfully, reader. It is an experience we all share.


 

Chapter 1 - Further Tutelage in Death )

 

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