#changes so she can like gauge how well shes doing avoiding death. its very silly bc she's like 'im doing this to survive' but she comes off | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shy-magpie · 5 years ago

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RQG 145

My first EA episode and I'm getting to it 4 hours after release because I'm so excited about joining the Patreon I can’t focus. Its silly but hey birthday money well spent if it makes me this happy right? Ok I think I'm centered enough to hit play.

Eee its going to be my name there someday!

Poor Cel! Poor Azu!

I'm impressed, Alex managed to summarize pretty well given the circumstances.

Hamid: oh dear! Skraak: Skraak, pressure equalization, Skraak!

What! I was right - he has been getting clearer! Did Alex imply he has been playing up how drugged is? Smart way to get a sense of the party while he gets his feet under him if so.

Thank you Alex, we need those numbers. Oh poor Hamid is confident on a 3.

Skraak is helping! Hamid is listening to him!

~~~Party time~~~

Alarms!

Blast doors? Yes! They won't drown!

Azu! Cel! Zolf!

Point Cel, Shoin seems actively against being useful

Nice, Salt Beard coming up properly after all this time! Scary sounds! Bubbles! Thats got to be a good sign right? Loving the bit with Zolf's thumb!

Not clear what happened plot wise, but Ben did some nice work showing Zolf��s emotions in ways I can’t put into works. Healing time! It is a very Cel, TBF, to quantify their health

Speaker time! Oh thank goodness everyone is healed up. Yeah the food's poisoned we got that with the brunch Hamid was dragged from.

Sweet, torches in the bags of holding are fine.

Loving the character interactions, especially Zolf and Cel bonding over Shoin’s bad design.

Bryn! Alex! That is an actual crime! Conspiracy to commit angst!

I love Zolf's growth!

I will need a transcription of this scene!

Cel was in war zones?

Speakers again

~~~

Hamid is humming opera music (Carmen?)

Scratch? Skraak has been marking the path when Hamid didn't think of it. I love Skraak! Hamid dear, when you get a moment, I know there's a lot on your mind: double check on Skraak's name and pronouns would ya? Also Hamid is doing awesome with the changes. I had faith in him but its great hearing him cheerfully ask Skraak for input as a local expert; instead of trying to force the pattern that worked before even as Skraak gets less kid like. Love to see how this shakes out, even though I confess Hamid having a new younger sibling was a treat. OK enough tangent let's open a hatch!

Oh pressure gauge! I wonder if that helps with more than flooding.

Wrench! I love a call back.

That's one way to refer to Hamid's abilities. Also I am aware of Zolf and Hamid's dwindling spell slots; I am just convincing myself they will be able to camp for the night in a safe hallway before Alex Shoin happens.

Oh good something is maintained around here.

Green light? Alex, did you come up with the hidden doors purely to mess with theoretical maps? Because Babs has been doing pretty well so far but I'll be her second if she challenges Alex to a fight in the parking lot after this episode.

~~~Break time, no ad is surprisingly weird, on edit listen is an ad with Mike that proves once again that I am so far gone on RQ that I even find the ads charming~~~

Oh more Hamid time!

That was a lot of dice, no numbers that I caught. Oh dear! (Was that Ben teasing him?)

In the rafters of a very large room. Huge domed ceiling, sounds pretty. Have I gone 20 minutes without saying how much I love Alex's set design? Thank you Ben, I will google it, *sticks out tongue*. Seriously as long as you enunciate and don't get into stuff so niche you lose people in England too, then don't worry about us from the US. Honestly you guys worry about everything, the occasional missed reference isn't worth the brainspace.

Still not happy about the lack of maintenance, especially given that's what stands between the party and drowning

Skraak sounds worried: it is his first time down this far and sounding more himself by the second. Still no hint of second guessing throwing in with Hamid! As good as Bryn is at avoiding spoilers, I thought he wouldn't have brought up Cohort on the discord if Skraak took it really badly as they sobered up, but is still a relief. Not that I would blame Skraak for much short of turning out to be the secret Big Bad: the circumstances were pretty messed up; even if I stand by saying you can't leave someone who pledged to you and isn't in a position to cover that up if their old boss catches them. Yes I know a conversation about spiders not being the most dangerous thing the party used on Kobolds is coming but with Skraak not turning out to be a kid, it might be more tense but cut my concerns in half. Hell the Kobolds might well be able to fend for themselves post Shoin if they loot the place in compensation.

"I still think that might be an exaggeration"

Oh Hamid has the Elven cloak too. How do you wear two cloaks at once? And don't say you don't, Hamid is not losing 4 levels of dragon awesome (or however Pathfinder put it) in the middle of a dungeon.

Skraak remembers the health potion and doesn't mind being asked to hang back. Hamid arms Skraak with a injection spear. Has the canisters for it too. I may have underestimated him (or on the Doylist level this falls under reasonable retcon; then again I might just have missed Bryn saying he was pocketing this stuff because I thought he would run it by Zolf). *Shrugs* please keep a sample for testing, I have a pet theory I'd love to see tested.

Alex, just...thanks for using a tone of voice that made it completely clear you were joking

Skraak: Skraak avenger, death from above etc! Hamid: Remember, General Skraak Avenger! Hamid remembers what he said to Skraak whether they do or not! OK like I said I loved Hamid adopting Skraak as a new little brother but this new phase is a lot of fun if harder to quantify.

Oh the sleeves! The cloaks don't have to have much physical presence, do they? That makes sense. Sleeves and prestidigitation? Right after being so charming with Skraak? Hamid is in fine form

Alex is just feeling mischievous tonight, I like it.

An enormous pipe organ? I love Alex's set design. (also one day my brain will pull up the right person the first time when someone references Bill Nye or Bill Nighy but even with the Pirates context today is not that day)

I know, Ben, cosmetic or not its fricken awesome.

I don't like the pipes, I don't get the pipes, but I don't like them (that fine mesh better not imply there is something airborne in the complex)

Is it wrong that other than the more obviously ominous bits this sounds like a great place to live?

Chaise longue

Is this seriously set up for the party -wait... Did Hamid skip to the end of the maze with only Skraak for back up and no sleep!?! No reunion or camping scene first? Not even a spell restoring nap?!

Human IOD? ALEX, WHAT IS UP WITH THIS FIGURE? ITS SHOIN RIGHT? ITS GOTTA BE.

Don't listen to Ben, Alex will get you if you jump to conclusions. That's my dragon! Sneaky lad learned from Sasha!

~~~Of course he is switching to the party. Man has a sense of timing.

More party favors, daggers make my heart twinge

Azu takes Cel’s hand to guide them

Gonna light a torch? Or is Zolf keeping up his anti light thing.

Alex is simplifying things No Zolf is not throwing open the door. Oh thank hope, Zolf is lighting a torch. Pathfinder jokes

We like it too Alex!

I like the zone thing.

Cel, I adore you! Zolf just promised backstory! Get that down! And a miner/minor pun, these people are the best! Oh tin miner!

Lights! Golden bulkhead! Seriously where is this guy getting his money?

Azu spots a trap! Yes Alex, we respect your craft. Trip wire!

I love the boots

Oh Cel is clumsy, I hadn't actually noticed that.

Genre savvy Cel hulks out with bat wings! Claws! Fangs! HP goes up thank all the gods! (Azu lets go of their hand)

Ben needs to look up spells but Zolf is prepared Azu puts on the iron beard

They throw open the door!

~~~

Poor Bryn, stuck waiting for the next episode like us listeners to find out the results.

I've been re listening to some early episodes and I really missed the "byes". It's a silly sign off but I think that comfort with silly might be part of why I like it?

Re: the bloopers, it would have been a little funny if they did a “detect traps” and got knocked out like when Hamid tried detect magic in, was it Rome?

OK bottom line: Skraak is awesome; I still miss Sasha but at least Lydia can be a bat even if it isn’t cloak of the bat; Zolf came back better than ever and actually wants to have at least 2 real conversations; and Azu is a champ for doing so well despite her phobias (which are still taken seriously because Helen and RQ are friggen awesome). Fun and pulpy, that's how ya do it! Stakes from the sea floor to the stratosphere! Character moments! Sets that make Hollywood weep in jealousy!

Okay okay some people may be stressed out after that even though everyone ended up fighting fit, which is fair, ok? but physical peril? Just a roller coaster to me, I'll take it any day of the week and twice on Sundays!

#long post #Rusty Quill Gaming #RQG spoilers #RQG season 4 #live blog thingy #RQG 145

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archivesdiveronarpg · 8 years ago

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Congratulations, RONI! You’ve been accepted for the role of PUCK. Roni, I can’t count how many times I broke out into a silly grin while I was reading your application - you captured his mischievousness perfectly from your interview answers to his writing sample. Which was, by the way, wonderful how you managed to encapsulate all his main points and connections while still maintaining his humor perfectly. From his autobiography to your very last headcanon - I was smitten from start to finish. I can't WAIT to see what havoc he wreaks on Verona! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Roni

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I’m attending uni this year, and it’s not too difficult at the moment. I have a lighter course due to dropping a class, yet the ones remaining are still rigorous. So while I am on Tumblr during my free time, it’s hard to gauge when my free time will be. However, I would probably rate myself a seven out of ten on weekdays and a eight out of ten on most weekends, depending on how many replies I have/the length of my replies.

Timezone | EST

Permission | yes, you have my permission to publish this application!

IN CHARACTER

Character | Puck // Pavel Lam

What drew you to this character? | honestly, i always adore playing neutral characters, as i find them to be a wonderful balance between the groups at war. their own motivations and their paths of interactions are always wonderful to explore. with pavel, he of course has that same potential — and it’s constructed in an incredibly exciting way. the way that pavel lives his life, with every action echoed by a dastardly smile on his face, is enticing. the way he has created his own darkness as he built his reputation around his services and pranks, and they way he thrives on his own is such a contrast to everyone else. i enjoy reading his standards and how he sticks to them, i adore the how connected the threads of his story are, and i love that he is still untouchable because he doesn’t place stakes in anything, really. he is a jester with so many possibilities, and i would love to explore them if accepted.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

( plan i ) his pranks are to sate his boredom more often than not; there are a lifeline, in a way, for these pranks allow not only social interaction, but insight to the people he will either work for or assassinate in the future. and it helps these pranks provide some of the greatest entertainment for himself. but i want to explore the possibility of pavel miscalculating the consequences of a prank; perhaps he underestimated the number of people pissed off, maybe there’s another target on his back and it’s from a legitimate threat. he has ties to no side, and while i am sure the capulets and the montagues have hired him before (whether directly or not, whether recently or once long, long ago), if one of his pranks injures someone from either side, what will happen? how much danger would he accidentally place himself in? i imagine this occurring with either one of his most elaborate plans, where he maybe should have expected something to go awry but was too confident in, or his simple pranks that caused a chain reaction of something even worse occurring, where the blame is directed at him for being the start of it all, if that makes sense.

( plan ii ) the connection between alva and pavel is one i definitely want to explore. i feel like, while puck’s badgering of alva is far from anything akin to obsession, alva is definitely someone puck attempts to rattle more than he would others? pavel doesn’t have anyone close to him; while it’s more because he doesn’t need people to be his friends, the lack of closeness with people does affect how he socializes with others. some interactions will be light-hearted, but there are certainly ones where he antagonizes, and he tends to take those interactions to the extreme. and i feel like that occurs with alva, if only because alva doesn’t react the way pavel expects. pavel keeps pushing the extremes because he craves a desired reaction and alva rarely gives it to him. add that to the skill alva possesses, one pavel is irritated of hearing over and over again, and you have pavel beginning to approach their interactions like a game. and this is one he doesn’t win, really, which is ridiculous considering its his game. yet alva is so different, pavel can’t help but keep attempting to win instead of flitting away. besides, he’s seen a crack in alva’s demeanor once, seen that flicker in the other’s eyes that alludes to more, and pavel is determined to pull that mask from alva’s face and witness the true wickedness he believes alva fosters. i’m not sure if this all completely makes sense, but this connection is just —- it’s one that won’t release pavel anytime soon, and i want it explored at every possible angle while its grip is tight!

( plan iii ) how does a man who is untouchable in the reality he has shaped for himself transform into someone who can finally be touched? i have no specific plans for this path, for it may never happen — yet i want to see if it does. what will it take for pavel’s life to change; what will happen when he falls from the pedestal he has built for himself? or will he never trip, because he is someone who plays all the right cards when he should? pavel can either fuck up horribly at some point, or he avoids such loss for and of himself. he either will fall or he won’t, and i want to see what path his story takes at diverona!

IN DEPTH

What is your favorite place in Verona?

“Oooooo, that’s a hard one since there are so many spectacular places here at this shithole! I have to say, the thrum of The Tempest is intoxicating. The way the music seeps into your veins, how your heartbeat matches the beats pounding in your ears — it’s a high in of itself, really.” A smile stretches across his features, wide and dazzling. “And when people sneak to the lower levels, the way the darkness can envelope you as you follow — well, they’re all easy targets, I’ll leave it at that.”

Easy targets for what, he’ll leave for assumption. He has done many things others wouldn’t risk in such neutral spaces, and while he is sure he has drawn the ire of the Three Witches, he has never been caught, so why ever stop?

“I suppose I could also say the bridge, since it works in the same manner. Easy targets, depending on the time of day and the circumstances. Plus, you have the added bonus of pushing people over the edge and guessing whether they will survive the fall. That game is always fun to play.”

( yes, he is beginning to paint a morbid picture with these casual mentions, but imagine him sipping at a cup of espresso, eyes bright as he observes the morning crowd where a phoenix and turtle play.

or maybe you should imagine him outside the entrance where people try to tame soup, upper lip curled in disgust at what is truly occurring in the building, and yet still notices the boy with the thinnest of clothes, the one unsure of entering, and quickly, silently, pockets a few coins the boy will find later.

if pavel lam was to be honest in this moment, maybe he would mention those places instead. )

What does your typical day look like?

“I wake up, eat, do my usual shit, and then fall asleep. ‘And what’s your usual shit?’ I’m sure you’re wondering. Well, well, well, all I can say is that it varies.”

Even if someone pinned a daily routine for him — one day it’s an assassination, the other prank galore — they wouldn’t ever be able to say how the assassination would play out or what the prank would be for the day.

Everything was unpredictable, and that’s how his life would remain.

“Would you like me to go into length? Because that would be involved describing quite a nasty situation as an example, and I’m positive you do not have the stomach for it.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

And his smile falters, the face of disgust transforming his demeanor. Crossing his arms, he rolls his eyes and smacks his lips, a reminder to keep his opinions coherent.

“The two sides deserve each other, they really do. Illusive kidnappings, dedicated torture, ‘we’ll send them a message!’ bravado — it’s like they’re trying to out-dramatize one another in their proposals.”

He leans forward then, eyes narrowed. “It’s a fucking nasty cycle they’ve got. An unnecessary one. But that’s how power corrupts — and that’s what happens when you have too many on your side that can be used against you or betray whatever the fuck you’re fighting for.

“Organized crime delivers everything with a smile and sharp words, but never forget it’s still crime. They’re as dirty as the rest of us, no matter how people may worship them, no matter how many people fear them, and I surely cannot wait for the day they all realize that we die the same here in Verona.”

In-Character Para Sample: triggers: blood, drub mention, death mention, violence. additional note: this is a little all over the place since it’s more snippets than a chronological storyline, so i apologize in advance if there’s any confusion! )

The sun beats on his face, and he shifts uncomfortably; the heat of Verona reaches an odd extreme at even odder times during the season, causing everything to sway unnaturally. Today, the binoculars are too heavy, and his clammy hands do not help in keeping it still. Tomorrow, maybe the heat will sap too much energy, and he’ll not only fall asleep, but fall from the roof.

Would that be a tragic end, or perhaps the funniest punchline of them all?

A long, dramatic sigh falls from Pavel’s lips, and he smacks his lips, returning. his attention to the target. He adjusts the binoculars, the man’s frame sharpening to near perfection, and Pavel writes sloppy notes for him to read later ( if he is able to interpret his own notes — funny, how a top assassin can’t even make sense of what he writes! he’s a fucking mess! gotta remember that for the autobiography! ).

The man staggers — the two shots of vodka from earlier already making his ears flush, the poor lightweight — and Pavel sees his father.

He blinks. Still there. Pulls away from the binoculars, rubs his eyes, returns. Sees the proper target once more, all in his blonde glory.

Pavel shifts again, his body whining at the ache slowly settling in his shoulders. He won’t be falling to sleep today, no, and he will complete the job with no debate over what his ending may mean for the story of his life.

( a reminder though, for the autobiography: there is little insanity in finding similarities between a white, blonde man, and a chinese, raven-haired father, if they have the same drunken stumble )

There is little he remembers of his childhood.

Correction: there is little he wants to remember of his childhood.

The few times he stares at the ceiling of his studio and dares to falter back, the rest of the night is him seeing tattered wood, of sleeping on the floor with a single blanket that did a piss-poor job, of keeping an eye on the door so he could move away from his father’s stumbling steps when the man returned home.

Whenever he falters back, he remembers his mother’s muffled cry as she is told about the death of his father, mistress in his arms and tear-stains on his cheeks, remembers feeling a small drop of pity as her face contorts into grief. How quickly that drop had evaporated, though, when not an hour later he hears her gasps of ecstasy and smells the burn of her escape.

The memories are like pages of a book he is trying to skim, flashes of imagery screaming for attention before he continues forth. There, one page near the beginning, the closest to a feast the three of them ever ate: a whole pie, stolen from some window. And there, the opening chapter to Pavel’s first attempt at pick-pocketing, all with the failure and the would-be-victim’s bruising grip on his arm. Oh, and look, him starving and crying and forever reminding the household there existed a child — and no one cared enough.

Finally, the page that matters: his father dying, his mother wasting her life, and Pavel washing his hands of them with a laugh.

( well, it was more like running off toward the sunset with middle fingers in the air and a chipper laugh. yeah, he will write it exactly like that. )

He runs into Orpheus — literally, he barrels into Orpheus’s chest or something, and there is a crack somewhere as he falls on his ass. He blinks past the daze, notices with distaste that of course the older man didn’t budge.

fucking mountain.

“Puck.” Orpheus, the man who can deliver his message with one word and a concoction of tones that do the job, sounds annoyed and irritated and a trite amused.

It’s a wonder what ten years can do; the stretch of time is too long and too short all at once. Pavel remembers the moment he stepped into Orpheus’ path and witnessed the man’s power, the growl of victory as blood drenched his stubble ( because remember, they were all practically babies back then, Pavel a cute teen and Orpheus only just beginning to grow a beard at good ol’ twenty-seven ).

Pavel cannot forget the worship that blanketed him whenever he thought of Orpheus. He was young, naive, trying too hard to adapt to his new world of Verona. The chaos Orpheus conducted was what Pavel aspired to — the way Orpheus worked that music for the right people was fucking amazing. Pavel couldn’t imagine himself going to that length, but Orpheus, whether he cared or not, still did. He was a force against the elite; he threatened them, succeeded more often than not, and for Pavel’s teenage mind, that was wonderful.

And then Orpheus fell, exposed as a fool even if the man didn’t believe it. Pavel leered in what could possibly be written as heartbreak.

Here’s the lesson, kiddos: never put your faith in anyone, for they will always disappoint you.

“Oberon,” he coos, a cattish smile on his lips. He jumps back to his feet, standing on his tip-toes as he sways toward Orpheus, throwing that smile directly in the man’s face. “I do hope you’re looking over your shoulder for any Capulet ready to throw you over the bridge!”

“They know better than to try,” is the man’s response, and Pavel wants to punch his fucking face because how stupid can this man be? He has no faith Orpheus has a master plan to overthrow the Capulets — he would have done so already, really — and the man’s choices are maddening. Absolutely maddening!

“You’re a true sell-out, Orphy, fake crown and all.” With a tut and a stomp on the man’s foot ( he had to do something, okay, and breaking his hand by punching oberon’s face wasn’t a good idea ), he skitters away from Orpheus’ reach.

Ten years is a long time; it’s long enough to uphold the lesson of only caring and having faith in oneself. Makes you a better person in the long run.

His hands never shake, which is always a good thing. His heartbeat can skyrocket, whether out of adrenaline or fear ( when was the last time he feared someone, though? ), but his hands will always remain still.

Of course, that didn’t happen with his first assassination. His hands shook like a flopping fish on land, and damn, it took so long to grab hold of the asshole and dig that knife across his throat. He didn’t even drag it all the way across, for the knife was too deep for a clean cut and his hands would not stop moving in ways he didn’t want them to.

There was blood on his face, he’s sure, from rubbing it after the kill. He must have a been a sight, a quivering boy with a strained voice reporting success to the client.

And yet, this is one for the autobiography: his hands stopped shaking as soon as the words left his mouth. I killed him —- and that was it! It was like he waved a wand with words, and that was the spell to halt the nuisance of a natural reaction.

It’s a wonderful tale, isn’t it? Killing is so much easier now, and he’s able to enjoy the thrill of it, just a little, along with the improved offers as he becomes better. He’s grateful for a body that doesn’t react unnecessarily anymore.

Pavel definitely recommends his line of work if your hands shake too much!

This is how he ends his day: he cleans everything. And by everything, it’s his weapons, it’s his apartment, it’s the damn refrigerator that never holds that much food in it to begin with.

Pavel begins with his knives. First, it’s wiping the blood from the ones he used for the job that day, and then sharpening. It’s slow, a process that has him drift just enough that he can plan whatever prank he decides upon, but not so far that he will cut himself. If he does, there are bandaids right beside the mattress on the floor.

After he sheathes all knives, he goes for his revolver. Usually, there are no other guns for him to clean, though sometimes he will withdraw the .45 pistol to ensure it’s in good condition. The revolver is an even slower process; it requires depositing the bullets he didn’t fire, removing powder and grime, holding it to the darkened sky outside his window to comfort himself that, yes, he knows how to sight and shoot. He hasn’t forgotten that in the last hour since he used it.

He tucks the revolver beside the bandaids, underneath whatever book he is reading for the month. And then — it’s everything else. Dusting the few pieces of furniture, wiping down the island and countertops, discarding the rotting food in the refrigerator and writing on a reminder on a sticky note of what he needs to replace. And then he cleans the fridge, calling an expensive service to send him some expensive food as he does so.

He’ll eat when the food arrives, slowly chewing as he retrieves the book from the floor, and slowly chewing still as he reads, savoring what little taste he actually registers as he tries to make sense of foreign words.

And then when he finishes, he’ll wash the dishes, wipe until they’re spotless, and then return them to their place. He’ll stretch the book over the revolver once more, and then try to sleep on the mattress that is a little too lumpy, but does its job anyways.

His apartment appears entirely different from the hovel he was raised in, and he’ll fall asleep knowing that.

And yet, whenever he closes his eyes, he sees a roof with too many cracks, smells his mother’s perfume despite the stench of whatever it was she was trying that night, and feels that sharp pang of hunger never leaving him alone.

( he doesn’t ever remember his dreams, if he ever did dream the night prior. he only remembers that fucking image in those few moments he was still awake. )

EXTRAS

~ color palette

~ quotes

“May fortune favor the fuckups”

“it’s winter and you feel reckless you step into the ocean and you laugh as the cold seeps feeling from your feet he calls you wild and you bare your teeth”

“there was a war in your childhood home, and you can still remember the fires, how the blood was pretty and sick on the bathroom’s pristine tiles, your mother’s still warm body limp in the tub. breathe in through the mouth: in, out, in. you are not guilty. her life is not on your hands.”

“He danced on the knife’s edge between awareness and sleep. When he dreamt like this, he was a king. The world was his to bend. His to burn.”

“longing paces circles in your heart. the want for more thrums just under your skin, and in your blood there are a thousand wolves howling, necks craned back in prayer to the moon. (you are not a monster for wanting more than what has been offered to you.)”

“why must you crush all that you’ve held within your grasp? ribs break so easy”

~ headcanons

his speech is rough, and lacks the effortless skill so many possess, and, oh, he has long stopped caring. his speech informs everyone where he was born, of how he was raised, and he would rather everyone remember that for the rest of their lives. they need to remember he wasn’t born with riches, and that he has never transformed himself to fit that notion either. everyone should remember that the person they hire — and perhaps the last person they hear – is someone they would spit upon on better days.

listen, he will always prefer his revolver and his collection of knives, but don’t let that fool you into thinking he has never used any other weapon in his life. he is keen to keep his skills sharp, and goes to the range biweekly to practice with all types of guns. but though sniper rifles — and sometimes, any other gun than a revolver — will usually make a job easier, pavel will take the route he wants for a job. so what if it makes the assassination near impossible? it’s a challenge he doesn’t mind at all, and when he succeeds, it’s all that more impressive.

he won’t be able to inform you the number of languages he knows because he’s not fluent in many; he knows enough to get by, though, and that’s what matter. he is fluent in russian and italian — they have been the languages of survival, after all. everything else is broken: english, some french, mandarin. whatever else you can think of, pavel might know a bit, even if it’s only a string of curses.

pavel remains in shape due to parkour; believe it or not, but once he began accepting jobs for exposing affairs, that was the solution for quick and elusive escapes. he has his own regime that he does outside of his jobs, and it’s not unusual to see him flying from roof to roof on a sunny day.

he possesses a scattering of scars; the most notable one ( because it belongs to his most shared story ) is the bullet hole one on his ass after he was shot by the woman caught in her affair. it’s a hilarious story of jealousy and trickery, remind him to share that with you when he haves the time! there are scars belonging to knife fights – the one that peeks to sight is the one along the side of his neck. it travels to his collarbone, and it’s a clean cut, which he appreciates. there are some cuts on both hands, a mark on his left in the divot between his thumb and index finger from a wrong hand position with a gun. and then there are long, horizontal marks on his thighs, hidden from everyone’s sight ( few people have asked about them, if they ever discovered them during frivolous nights. he always smiles and never answers ).

the only thing of excess ( outside of weaponry ) pavel will indulge in is food. he spent too many months — too many years, really — starving. that specific pain is something he never wishes to remember, never dreams to return to, and so he will feast as he likes. he will not waste any food, no, he will eat all that is on his plate even if he doesn’t enjoy the taste. it is the compromise he has made with himself, and he will keep it no matter how ridiculous it is to others.

he wants to throw a cherry pie in alva’s face. not the whipped cream one you see in comics or those funny videos. a cherry pie. that is all.

#accepted: puck

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