milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

autor,
oom

(no subject)

[oom: Jack's Obsession with Christmas leads him to seek more answers.]

From the pumpkin-shaped door in the tree, in the forest, the skeleton man emerges.

Perhaps the results of his experiment here might have borne some fruit. What could be more joyful to the humans than a hilarious disease?

As he nears the bar he spots a frizzy-haired person outside, who seems to be having a lot of fun, and smiles. Well he's got this one right at least. He enters through the back door, and looks around, before going up to the bar. The Axeman asked him not to creep up on people, but as someone who moves without making a sound*, the best he can do is sit in a conspicuous place for now.

"My good lady." he says to Bar. "One 'mulled wine' please."

Once the drink arrives, he pays in a variety of miscellaneous currency, and then pours half the drink into a sample bottle, which he puts in his pocket, before sipping the other half.

[*Except for the time he attended that Minecraft gathering, when he came up behind people in a green box and made a hissing sound.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Autor's hair doesn't normally stick up like this, and no matter how he tries to comb it down, it just won't stay normal. So, fuzzy-headed in more ways than one, he heads to the bar to order tea, but then spots Jack.

"Ooh. You're a skeleton, I see, my friend spoke of you to me, and if you don't mind I'd like to ask a few questions," Autor says, approaching him. "Your job is to scare? But you come from where? And might you have some frightening suggestions?"

Jack looks at Autor, with a slightly amused smile.

"Oh one at a time, little man." he says. "If I can, I will explain."

He sips his wine, leisurely.

"I am Jack, the Pumpkin king
And yes I scare, that sort of thing.
Do you have a name?"

"I'm amused that you asked, for you see, in the past, I've kept it to myself as a game," the boy says, adjusting his glasses. "By the way, I'm not little, nor am I brittle; I'm a student, and Autor's my name."

He tilts his head. "Why do you frighten? Is it to lighten the mood or the atmosphere? Have you had much success when you address the patrons with your tactics here?"

Jack laughs.

"I do not frighten here. The Axeman was most insistent."

He's a fountain of joy, naturally! The pox is just test-driving. And the boy is clearly afflicted. It would be quite, quite wrong to spoil everyone's fun by taking all the credit.

"Teja's a 'goth; he's cut from the cloth of strong and tough men worldwide," Autor explains, cocking his head. "To protect the days of Milliways, for him, is a matter of pride."

"A gentleman who's fine for sure,
And nobody could wish for more
Astute a guard to tend this place."

Headtilt.

"Perhaps you wish to join him too, little Autor
Security's most junior scouter?"

Autor purses his lips. "I am not small, little, runty, weak, short, or Lilliputian," the tiny boy says. "But I agree that Security is an acceptable solution."

He tilts his head. "You've answered few of my questions, too, and so I ask you hence--where is your place? your inhabited space? You come from somewhere, so whence?"

Jack laughs. Lilliputian is a new one.

"I am the king of Halloween Town." he says. "And what about you? Germany? Austria?"

The boy blinks at him. Twice. And a third time, for a couple of different reasons. "Halloween Town? That's rather profound, but as for your thoughts on the rest... I'm from Germany, Bavaria, you see, and I must know: how did you guess?"

"I am well travelled." Jack says, with a bony smile.

"Well traveled, you say? Tell me, I pray. So you come from a town: Halloween?" Autor says, still blinking and guileless. He sneezes into his handkerchief. "I know you're the King--an interesting thing--but is there a holiday queen?"

A rather sad look.

"No, there is not. My throne is occupied quite alone."

Autor sighs a little. He always manages to find people's painful scabs and pick at them. "So the king of Halloween! Truth be told I am quite green--with envy, over royalty," Autor says, inclining his head. "Do you have peasants which are quite pleasant who owe you loyalty?"

"The monsters are very loyal to me." Jack says. "They are, of course, to a certain degree scared of me, but they are more scared of me leaving them than anything else I could do."

"I accept that with some mirth. And you scare children of the Earth? And bring them costumes and candy?" Autor says, easing into a smile. "What's your favorite part? And do take heart--your job is fine and dandy."

"I scare them, they provide their own costumes and candy." Jack says.

"And I know I am the best at what I do." he adds. "But I do get tired of the same old thing, from time to time.

"Tell me little Autor, what do you know of Christmas?"

Autor doesn't understand why he's the one who has to explain Christmas when he doesn't celebrate it. He also doesn't understand Jack's stupid fixation on calling him little. He folds his arms, working himself into a decent snit.

... Ah, he missed decent snits. He'll have to thank Jack properly for it. Still, he pops his nose in the air.

"I am not at all small, and is there a Christmas Town, too?" Autor asks. "December's the time, St. Nick's in his prime, and there are presents under a tree for you."

He sneezes again. "Children get presents--and it's all pleasant--from Santa Claus, man of the hour. He has reindeer that fly and a list to eye and a great, benevolent power."

Jack peers at the funny little man, with his folded arms.

And then he reaches forward and beeps Autor's nose.

"Now now, you could just have said no, no need for that face." he says. "But thank you for your information."

Beep!

"What the--what!" Autor says, abandoning rhyme for the moment in his surprise. He blinks, startled out of his arm folding. "Don't touch my nose while you're in the throes of mocking me, I ask you, please," he says, wrinkling said nods. "You I must behoove because I disapprove--besides, you might catch disease."

"I am a monster, I do not get disease." Jack says, withdrawing his finger.

"Why so grumpy when I asked?"

"I am jumpy and quite grumpy not because you asked," Autor explains, "but because you call me little and small, a point which I thought we had passed."

"I am sorry." the skeleton says.

"All humans are small to me."

Autor considers him for a while. And then he nods, unfolding his arms and letting the tension bleed out.

"I accept your apology. Now for your pathology--may I ask why you frighten and scare?" he asks. "I know you're the king--which has quite a ring--but I don't know what you do there."

"We plan Halloween, mostly." Jack says. "Occasionally I deal with some people who try and challenge my reign."

"And you're made entirely of bones? Do you avoid sticks and stones?" Autor asks, though the small smile he sports may give away that he's just lightly teasing. "Do you forever exist or have I missed the part of the twist that's you?"

"I cannot be broken permanently." Jack lies smoothly. "And I do not age."

There are not many things that can destroy him, though.

"That's pretty cool. You're nobody's fool, and I wouldn't wish you broken," Autor breathes, impressed. "I'm glad, you see, that you and me, have met together and spoken."

"You are quite the master of rhyme
With combinations most sublime." Jack says, bowing at him.

Autor laughs quietly, embarrassed with the compliment but inordinately pleased by it all the same. He bows back.

"I'm not the best, you should hear the rest, of the people who have the pox. We've been coerced and very much forced into rhyming, sneezing, and spots."

"A pox you say? But are you not all having fun, rhyming?" Jack asks. "You appear to find it rather stimulating yourself."

"I'm the worst to ask about this task, especially the rhyming," Autor says, smiling a little. "Because though I enjoy and like to toy with language, the pox's timing..."

He shakes his head. "The sneezing's a trial and I'm sure that now I'll be certain to brush my mane. And, you see, people other than me find the pox to be quite a pain."

"Ah well, you'll soon be better, I'm sure." Jack says.

He makes a mental note that pox is probably not what people want for Christmas back home.

"I hope you're right, and now I might go have a lie down," Autor says, shoulders dipping. "Good luck on your sneaking and thank you for speaking about your home, Halloween Town."

He bows again.

"I shall."

Jack smiles and gets up.

"Goodbye, average-sized human Autor."

Autor grins at him. Then he covers his mouth, shoulders shaking with quiet mirth. He dips his head, and chuckles all the way to his room.

Don't look now, Jack, but you're being eyeballed by a curious pink pony.

Jack's head turns slooooowly, and the pink pony may suddenly find she is staring into a pair of hollow eyes.

"Good evening."

...Well, hello there. Pinkie's head tilts and she stares, but it's rude to comment, isn't it. "You're new here!! YOU'RE NEW HERE AREN'T YOU PLEASE SAY YES!"

"I am quite new, yes." Jack says.

"What is your name, pink pony?"

"That one's easy, it's Pinkie Pie!" then, continuing along warmly, she asks, "what's yours?" She needs a name before the song can happen!

"I am Jack, the Pumpkin King."

Jack smiles, enchanted by the funny little creature.

"There's a king for pumpkins?!" Pinkie is delighted. Of course there should be, after all, her world has Celestia and Luna.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only