bravabarber: (Default)
[personal profile] bravabarber
Action: 2238 Stevens Road

(Let it not be said that Figaro is not a lady's man; he has both loved and lusted women from all walks of life. From the lowliest peasant to the highest of noble birth, he is, after all, a man driven solely by passion for what he loves. He has been young once and done his share of love-making under the stars.

However, he's fairly certain that he did not hire any prostitute last night, nor does he currently have a lover. So when he wakes up at the crack of dawn (for a such is a barber's life to get up at the whee hours of the morning) and sees an unfamiliar women at his side, his first thought is that he must've drunk too much at the local tavern again, to celebrate all the coins that the Count has paid him. A quick exit is preferable, so he searches for his clothes. But in the course of doing so, he catches sight of himself in the mirror. After a few moments of staring at himself in those weird clothes, pinches himself hard. Once, twice, thrice, just in case he's still asleep.

The curtains are also thrown open, and when he sees not his beloved Seville but a strange city with many strange contraptions, he has to stare and gape in horror, before he yells out in fear and dives back under the sheets.)


(The last word is sung out loud, to a high G. Too bad that Figaro has a really, really loud voice too. At least it's in tune?)


(The phone rings around Mayfield, and residents will be treated to some very curious chatter today if they pick up.)

I wonder...what does this device do?

(The receiver is banged several times on the table, while the user continues to talk to himself.)

It's a strange shape indeed, much like most of the other items in this household. It's highly impractical too; it lacks the power of a hammer, the sharp blades of a pair of scissors, and I am fairly certain it can't bake bread. The artisan who crafted this should be ashamed of himself for creating such a useless item. Unless I have yet to find the purpose of it. Come on Figaro, think, think, THINK. Use that wonderful brain of yours to solve this puzzle, there's nothing too difficult that you can't figure out!

(Does anyone want to assist the stranger on the other side? I mean, ignoring the fact that it's 6 o clock in the morning and he probably woke up the entire town by smashing the phone on the table, he really does sound like he need help.)

Date: 2011-11-21 03:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
[Thor really doesn't like the phone. Its constant ringing is fit to drive him mad, he can't figure out how to make it work half the time, he hates memorizing numbers, and he's still not entirely convinced it's not operated by evil spirits. So when it goes off at 6:00 in the morning and then commences banging in his ear, it is not a pleased thunder god who finally decides to reply.]

Are you mad?!

[If Figaro is anywhere within ten feet of the receiver, he will hear this. Thor intended it this way.]

Date: 2011-11-22 01:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
(Oh, Figaro hears it alright. That's why he's now freaking out, because what is this mysterious voice coming from nowhere?)

Ah Dio!

(There's a lot of scrambling noise at the back, ending with a final smash as Figaro trips over the table. And for maximum comedic effect, a jar then falls on his head.)

Maria, I will never drink again!

Date: 2011-11-29 05:40 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
[Thor, of course, sees none of this. But just in case the person on the other end is listening, he yells louder:]

It is a tellar-fón, you damned fool!

[He is pretty sure that's the word. Or close enough, anyway.]

Date: 2011-11-29 07:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
(With trembling fingers Figaro picks up the...tellar-fon (was it?) and speaks to it; it seems the voice is coming from it anyway.)

S-s-si, signore. So you are a tellar-fon?

Date: 2011-11-29 09:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
[Thor's voice is marginally quieter now. Marginally.]

I am Thor, the son of Odin-- until lately well asleep in my bed! The tellar-fón is the device with which you have woken half of Mayfield!

Date: 2011-11-30 06:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
(Figaro winces and pulls away from the phone, but curiosity beckons him to ask more questions. Especially about the man's identity.

Thor, son of Odin? Like, like the god from the stories of old?

Date: 2011-11-30 07:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
[That surprises Thor almost clear out of his irritation. He'd almost given up thinking that anyone here would recognize his name - he's gotten used to blank stares and snorts of disbelief. A fool this man might be, but a fool who knows him!]

I am! Though if you think them stories, you are an even greater fool than you seem!

Who are you?

Date: 2011-12-01 01:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
(Out of habit, Figaro bows. He's nothing but polite, even to the madmen and drunkards who claim to be pagan gods from long dead cults.)

Figaro, the Barber of Seville, at your service! And I never denied that I was a fool, though the role I am more akin to is of the jester at the court.

(When he introduces himself, he sings out his name loud and proud, enough to rival Thor's own tones.)


Date: 2011-11-21 06:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
[Well. Now she's awake. Sarah Jane is accustomed to be woken up by strange noises. Singing is a new one though. At least it's fairly clear that that isn't her drone husband any more.]

Good morning. I imagine you have a fair number of questions.

Date: 2011-11-22 01:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
(When the woman next to him speaks, he peeks out from under the bed sheet.)

Y-yes signora, if you could I would certainly be most grateful.

Date: 2011-11-22 03:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Well, I suppose I should probably start with the fact that you've been kidnapped. Whatever your home may be, you are a long way from it.

Date: 2011-11-22 06:01 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

(Figaro's genuinely shocked by this.)

But why kidnap lowly me? I'm not of noble birth, at least, I don't think so, and there's no ransom to be paid.

Date: 2011-11-22 06:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
No one's been able to work out just what the town is trying to do. It brings people here from a wide variety of times, places and stations in life.
From: [identity profile]
[Naal is a light sleeper; while her seed does not bother her as it did there's been no time for her to lose the habit, and she's not likely to anyway while she's sleeping in a strange house with people she knows little about.

So needless to say the scream wakes her up. An impassioned scream, so not those strangely unresponsive - will-less, drones, she'd heard them called - members of her 'house', male so not her false mother. Illhar'dro, she'd have thought, if she were not resigned to everything here being utterly foreign to her.

With her characteristic lack of emotion she pads quickly down the stairs, makes a short detour to the kitchen to grab a carving knife - safety first - and opens the door to the master bedroom.]

Is everything alright?

Yay for not!family!!

Date: 2011-11-23 02:21 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
(You lost him at the second sentence, unfortunately. He's just going to blink and gape at you, before he spreads his hands to show his confusion.)

Signora, I do not understand. What do you mean by, "a variety of times, places and stations"? Are our fellow captives from different kingdoms and cities? Is this not the year of our Lord, 1773?

(And when the door opens, Figaro screams a high C out again, before he literally jumps and scurries back under the bedsheets.)

Never again will I drink so much wine!! It is not worth these strange nightmares!

Re: Yay for not!family!!

Date: 2011-11-23 07:04 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Good morning. He's just arrived and is understandably confused.

[The singing may take some getting used to]

There are those here that will insist that it is the year of our Lord, 1950 something, but we have reason to suspect that is also not the case.

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Date: 2011-11-21 09:08 pm (UTC)
stoppedhiding: Golbez (glarey face)
From: [personal profile] stoppedhiding
[ Golbez really shouldn't judge, since he had similar problems with the phones just a few days ago, but this is just annoying. ]

It's called a telephone.

Date: 2011-11-22 01:59 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
(The receiver is dropped immediately and it clatters against the ground as the speaker on the other side gives a yell of surprise.)

Ciello, what sorcery is this!?

Date: 2011-11-22 02:02 am (UTC)
stoppedhiding: Golbez (skeptical)
From: [personal profile] stoppedhiding
That, I haven't yet discerned. But it seems perfectly safe to use, so please calm down.

...can you still hear me?

Date: 2011-11-22 06:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
(Figaro approaches the black thing in front of him carefully, and tentatively picks it up from the ground with two fingers. Keeping it far, far away, he speaks to it the other way round.)

Si, signore, I can. And I will try, if only it will help me get out of this nightmare.

Date: 2011-11-22 06:22 am (UTC)
stoppedhiding: Golbez (dramatic back turned icon)
From: [personal profile] stoppedhiding

These devices are a means of communicating remotely within this town, Mayfield. You can use them to reach one specific person, or anyone who happens to be listening -- or that's how it was explained to me when I arrived a couple of days ago. Somewhere inside your house there should be a tome called a "phone book" that lists numbers you can dial to reach anyone in specific.

[ He pauses, to see if the other man still follows. ]

Date: 2011-11-23 02:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Ah, so they are like letters, only instead of writing them out we speak our words, and these devices serve as a means of relaying them between us? How easy it is then for the townspeople to converse with each other. How do these marvels work? I should get one for my shop back in Seville.

Date: 2011-11-23 07:09 pm (UTC)
stoppedhiding: Golbez (ponder ponder)
From: [personal profile] stoppedhiding
Yes, that's the basic idea.

I have no idea how they work. My world has a plant called whisperweed that behaves in a similar fashion, but that doesn't seem to be the basis behind these telephones.

And regarding your home in... Seville, you said? You should know that, as of right now, nobody has found a way to escape this town.

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Re: Action

Date: 2011-11-22 05:59 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
((OOC: I'm fine with it! Though do we have to follow an order for it?))


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