deepbluececil

[deepbluececil]

If you had to pick one meal that was all you could ever have again to eat, what would it be?

Cecil seems to think very hard about this, for a very long time. His brows furrow and his hand rests at his chin, the gears in his head almost audibly turning-- as if the question would somehow come true when he answered.

When he finds his answer it's heralded by his eyes lighting up, and a smile pulling at his mouth. "Well, clearly it'd have t' be whatever my favorite meal is!"

[deepbluececil]

Do you wish you were human ever?

A snort of a laugh escapes him, and he tosses his head back. "A human? Hell naw! I spend 'nough time as it is hobblin' around on them sticks they call legs as it is. I ain't gonna deny it ain't convenient fer gettin' around disguised as one of 'em, but fer the most part I'm most comfortable bein' just the way I am! 'Sides, there's somethin' awful special t' bein' one of a kind."

[deepbluececil]

Why bother wearing clothes if you're in the ocean? I think you should be free willy

"I got two main reasons fer that one. One, it makes things easier. I ain't really gotta do a whole song and dance by changin' into a human and then gettin' dressed, or gettin' undressed when I'm ready t' go on home. Also means I ain't gotta lug around extra clothes when I'm going places. And two, I dunno if y'all know this 'r not, but the bottom of the ocean is a damn cold place. Sure I got enough paddin' t' keep me safe, but an extra layer 'r two ain't gonna hurt."

"'Sides, since I just wear my shirt jacket and harness bag, it usually ain't gettin' too in the way a' swimmin' effectively."

[deepbluececil]

"Brass as in brass knuckles?" He questions. Unless they were imbued with some magic, Cecil doubts they'd be enough to get this guy out of confrontations with even half the stuff he faces. Hell, it probably couldn't even stop him, if he really wanted this guy dead. Not that he did of course, though waking him up and scaring him half to death was liable to get someone hurt.

"Mm... yeah. A trial period." That was a good idea, actually. "Got some questions and... two tests for ya if y' wanna work with me. First of all, how the hell did you get down here and then find me?"

Olivier seems to take any bafflement in stride. He leans on his cane just a pinch, one brow raised and a smirk just visible beneath a bushy beard and well kept mustache. "Oh my dear man, I would not be here if there wasn't any profit to be made and danger to be had! It's part of the fun, is it not? Trust me, if you saw me with a pair of brass, you wouldn't be so keen to warn me." He chortles at that, as if Cecil had said a rather humorous joke, a real knee slapper.

"So then, does my employ then entail a bit of a trial period, hmm?" He asks, twisting at the end of his mustache. "Some kind of test to prove my mettle? Provide me details and you will be impressed!"

[deepbluececil]

He'd been tipped off that something had happened to Artair. He'd already had a bad feeling, what with his attempts to reach out going unanswered, but he'd told himself Artair was just busy, probably off getting himself killed somewhere else. He hadn't even known the guy who'd given the tip. Some stranger-- Cecil was always skeptical of things like that at first, they could be traps, but it was important enough that he had to at least look into it. Artair was important enough to look for.

And when the tip turned out to be true? He was angry. Mostly at whoever the hell was torturing his friend, but a little bit at Artair, too. Though, he's read enough to understand he's not actually angry at Artair, he's just scared for him. Worried.

Worried especially about what kind of state he might be in when he got there.

Getting in wasn't hard, nor was tearing apart the few people that tried to stop him. The hardest part was finding Artair in all the chaos of alarms and people running for their lives. But he finally does, finally manages to find where he's being held, and goes there without delay.

Seeing Artair like this is... hard, for lack of a better word. Cecil hadn't lingered above to take in all the details through the glass floor, but standing here face to face is like having a nightmare. He's seen Artair bad off before, dead even, but he knows deep down that Artair looks worse than death, and would probably prefer the easier option.

His face is tight, lips pressed together in a hard line as a bloodied hand raises to scratch at his left ear. Maybe a bit too hard, but he's left uninjured so he hardly notices. He's still taking in all the details. But standing around isn't going to help anything. He sets his jaw and moves forward, taking a knee right in front of Artair. He offers a small laugh. "Well, findin' shit's kinda my specialty, ain't it?" The small smile fades fast. "It's good t' see you too. Now what do you know about this shit yer tied up with? I'm sure yer eager t' be rid of it."

[deepbluececil]

"I'd argue most things're better when they're fried. And even if they ain't, there's probably someone who fries it up anyway." He snickers. "Best thing about hangin' around these parts I reckon." He doesn't comment on the olive thing though, laughing with Butch as he assumes it's a joke.

He's a bit-- flustered, when Butch calls the waiter over. Hasn't he ever been in a restaurant before? They'd get to it when they got to it! But-- the waiter seems alright with it, so after Butch goes he orders his own food; damn near most of the menu with doubles of some items. When the waiter finally scurries off after Cecil thanks them, he lowers his own menu and rests his elbow on the table, propping his cheek up in his palm.

"Naw. Though t' be fully fair I don't really live near anything." He snorts. "I'm usually out travelin' fer business, but if I ain't it usually ain't worth the effort a' leavin' home. And y' can't get anything damn delivered to the bottom of the ocean."

“Fried lasagna? I ain’t ever had it like that.” Butch muses, eyes peering up at Cecil briefly before returning to sweeping over each page of the menu. “They got jus’ ‘bout everythin’ these days, huh? An’ I thought they’d be servin’ nothin’ but olives.” He snorts as he turns the page, his face lighting up all over again at the sight of even more options.

The cowboy peeks up from the menu to look around and once he spots a worker, he’s not ashamed in the least about waving them over. Once they’ve made their way to the table, he’s begins pointing out each thing he wants, which totals up to atleast six dishes and two desserts. Heck, he even orders himself a drink! Cecil is given the opportunity to order as well if he so wishes and once the waiter has hurried off, Butch lays the menu aside and waits, flashing a toothy grin his acquaintances way.

“Worth th’ trip out? What, y’don’ live ‘round here?”

[deepbluececil]

"I like that man. He's shaped like a hot dog."

[deepbluececil]

Cecil blinks harder this time, raising a hand to rub at one of his eyes. Maybe this was just some weird dream. There's no way someone could have found him. Not someone dressed like that, unless he'd came in on a submarine? But Cecil would've noticed that... wouldn't he? But he can feel that ticklish, itchy feeling that makes his left ear-fin twitch.

Magic.

"Uh..." That's right. He wasn't working with Artair anymore, for the other's sake, but it had been helpful so he'd wanted to test the waters again. "Yeah... right. The job." His nose slits flare with a heavy little exhale. He pushes himself into a more comfy position, tail curling under himself into his version of sitting upright.

"I'll give y' that it is impressive y' somehow made it down here. But yer gonna have t' be able t' do more than get to the bottom of the ocean and do a little dance-y... spin thingy if y' wanna work with me. This place is dangerous, but ain't no hoards a' creatures tryin' t' hunt an' dismantle ya... yet." He smirks at that, a little snort of a laugh. "And if y' work with me, yer gonna be on the menu every time we go out. Y' need t' be able t' handle yer own."

Olivier seems to take the sudden exodus from his person in stride, brows raised and grin ever present. His position shifts to one that is more on his stomach, elbows up and hands tucked beneath his chin while his legs kick behind him. He does not seem to mind if it's an odd position in the garb he wears, head tilting back and forth as he appraises Cecil from this newfound angle. Even the crash does not seem to phase him.

"Hell-o my dear fellow!" His eyes twinkle in the low-light. "I do apologize for the impromptu visit and any fright I may have caused! But I was informed you were looking for some help with items.... in hard to reach places, yes?"

Up he pops, onto his feet in a dashing second. The cane does a small twirl between deft fingers. "Well what kind of resume could I provide for the position that isn't more effective than showing you just how well I can reach a place such as yours. You must admit it is quite the feat!"

[deepbluececil]

🍝  to  sit  at  my  muse's  table  at  a  restaurant.

“S’this seat taken?” Sits down there anyway and noisily scoots his chair closer to the table before immediately beginning to peruse the menu. “Mmm, their s’ghetti sure looks good!”

Table seats were the obvious choice, for someone as large as Cecil was. Would he prefer the enclosed privacy of a booth? Sure, maybe, but at least he isn't shy when it comes to turning a normal restaurant into a buffet. Why would he be? It's not like he couldn't afford it and didn't tip well.

He's busy deciding which appetizers to get when a familiar voice pipes up, followed soon after by the sound of chair scraping floor. He glances over the top of his own menu. Oh-- it's that cowboy who won that pig at that thing. Maybe it's normal for humans to sit at tables with people they know to save space and time?

"Mhmm, this place's got some good food alright. I don't usually stop by this'n in particular, Italian ain't my usual go to. But I was thinkin' an awful lot about that fried lasagna appetizer they got." He grins at the thought, eyes drifting back down to his own menu. "Figured it'd be worth the trip out."

[deepbluececil]

🔒  to  break  into  my  muse's  house.

Olivier is posed charmingly near Cecil as he wakes up. The pose is confident and relaxed, and his grin is blinding, dazzling Cecil as he taps the poor man into a stir. "There you are, good fellow! And here I was thinking I wouldn't be able to rouse you until the summer came and went!"

One would think that living at the bottom of the ocean, in a vast abandoned facility, would mean that nobody could ever really break in-- let alone find the specific room where he slept.

It's this peace of mind (paired with his latest feast) that allows Cecil to sleep like a rock, arms splayed and tail laid out curling on the floor. It takes a good few jostles to wake him, but eventually he snorts awake-- head rolling to the side and eyes opening slowly to see... a person?

The fuck?

He blinks sluggishly and out of sync, but once it sets in that this is in fact really happening he jolts-- tail crashing into the wall and knocking things over as Cecil flips onto his stomach and pushes away from the stranger. "Wh--" He seems baffled, eyes wide and glowing in the dim light. "Who-- what-- how are you here?"

[deepbluececil]

— WE  MEET  AT  LAST!

Possible  first  meeting  starter  prompts.  Send  me… (Send  🔁  +  any  emoji  to  reverse  the  outcome.)

✂️  to  cut  in  front  of  my  muse  at  the store. 🍝  to  sit  at  my  muse's  table  at  a  restaurant. 💰  to  pay  for  my  muse's  meal  at  a  restaurant. 🍻  to  run  into  my  muse  at  the  bar. ☕  to  get  coffee  with  my  muse. 💨  to  crash  into  my  muse,  cliché  anime  style. 🐶  to  find  and  return  my  muse's  lost  pet. 🙈  to  go  on  a  blind  date  with  my  muse. 🥴  to  drunkenly  flirt  with  my  muse. 🎮  to  play  games  at  the  arcade  with  my  muse. 🚗  to  pull  my  muse  out  of  the  way  of  traffic. 😱  to  be  trapped  in  an  elevator  with  my  muse. 🔒  to  break  into  my  muse's  house. 👊  to  help  my  muse  in  a  physical  altercation. 🍷  to  join  my  muse  at  the  table  after  they're  stood  up. ☔  to  stand  under  my  muse's  umbrella. 👛  to  steal  my  muse's  bag/purse/wallet. 🎉  to  talk  to  my  muse  at  a  party. 🚚  to  move  in  next  to  my  muse.

[deepbluececil]

Squints in confusion. "Why're you the worst liar on the planet??"

[deepbluececil]

For Christmas Artair leaves him a huge cooler filled with dinners he's made. There's at least a dozen dishes wrapped up and tucked inside, all for him to reheat and heat as his leisure. The tag reads 'the Twelve Feasts of Christmas" with a little star next to it.

Nobody gave Cecil gifts, of all things. All of the people he interacted with were for business... save for one. So it's not hard to figure out who left this. His ear fins perk high and then lower, color rising to his cheeks. Agh, Artair... always too sweet for his own good.

He takes the cooler into his hands. It'd take a while since he's just got the one microwave, but he was going to be eating very well tonight. And maybe-- maybe he'll have to find something good enough to give to Artair in return.

[deepbluececil]

Does the knife cat smile.

[deepbluececil]

Artair--- blinks, but harder than a blink. Almost like his whole entire face squeezes in on itself in that record-scratching moment. He frowns, his brows draw downwards, his index touches his chin in thought. "...... Alright. I think I'm beginning to see the problem." Maybe? Who knew at this point.

Artair moves his hand as he speaks, but he does so slow, as he pieces together everything and tries to spool out a response with meaning. "Cecil.... the majority of humans don't have both. I won't say it doesn't happen, but most times It's usually one functioning set or the other." He feels more awkward the more he speaks. This is a weird conversation to be having. But if Cecil was curious he deserved to know.

Cecil blinks too, but while his is an average blinking force to use it is just a bit slower than Artair's. "Oooooh I see. Well-- fair enough I reckon." He shrugs. It definitely hadn't been what he expected given his own situation, but it's not like it bothered him any. It was just one more thing that differentiated him from most other folks. But of course, he did always boast being one of a kind.

"Sorry fer insinuatin' y' had a birth defect fer only havin' one, then."

[deepbluececil]

;;Hello everyone, and happy holidays! I'm going away for a few days and won't have access to my computer, so everything I do is gonna be on mobile! That means if you see any rp posts from me (I will be focusing mainly on this blog and @bloodlustiing, but you might see one or two things from @entropynchaos and @deepbluececil too!) They will be uncut. However! As most of my threads are with @/townofcadence, they will be cutting the posts on their side to keep things from getting too unwieldly. During this period I'll also be tagging rp posts with #mobile post just in case you wanna filter for it, too!

[deepbluececil]

Crystal clear ocean waves