(IC) The OC above lied!

First! Wait, just to be clear, do I specify what to lie about or does NP get to make something up?

Ok, I'll leave it to NP for now, I might add a few suggestions if there's no answer in [unspecified amount of time].

Looking at the mess she had made, Ace realized that conducting experiments in the library Lea worked at was a bad idea, now she had to clean up before her friend returned. She needed some help, and since Zinnia was the only other person at the library right now, Ace reluctantly decided to trick the teenager into helping her. She inquired about what Zinnia was looking for and lead her into the aisle where Ace’s mishap had occurred. But it appeared her duplicity was unnecessary, Zinnia had heard the incident take place, but was willing to help anyways.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’m pretty tough… I do need to be more careful though, I don’t want others to have to clean up my mess… Thank you for helping me with this.”

“I was studying the application of liquid mechanics for the stabilization of intra-dimensional portals. It’s pretty technical though, so why don’t we just focus on your homework? Helping you with that is the least I can do to repay you for this. Magic tricks? Let’s see… Hey! How would you like to fly? Or rather float.” While still picking up books, Ace started configuring her cape, to make it safe for the teenager to use for a while.

(This is not a claim!)

LostPocong feel free to choose a lie, though if you want it to be up to NP's interpretation, that's okay, too!

"You know, you could have told me that you wanted me to come here with you," the teenager squeaked. She tilted her head over to the emptied bookshelf, then her gaze shifted over to the floor, which was now littered with the books that were formerly perched atop the shelves. After she heaved out an exhale, Zinnia squatted down, briefly brushing her blonde hair behind her shoulders before she began to lift up the books and made a small stack in her hands. She offered it to the elder party, watching the Mana Fiend intently before she ensured that Ace was holding the small stack.

"I was worried. Uhm, when I heard all the noise in here. I thought you got really hurt. You need to be more careful next time," the teenager continued, offering a second small stack to the elder party and allowing her eyelashes to flutter.

"These things fall quite easily, you know. Here, as soon as I help you clean up, can you...show me what you were studying, and could I do my homework in here, too? I bet that your little...magic trick thingies might be fun to watch...that is, if you want me to watch them...mmh."

As soon as Zinnia stopped speaking, he glanced around and stared at all the downed books. This was going to take a while.

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Details on what Zinnia would lie about will be dropped in a spoiler! TW for some fatphobia!

Also, I'm sorry if this is worded weirdly! I was struggling to figure out how to word this for a bit.

(TW: bullying I'm so sorry to Zinnia jhfbskjdgbk and just a fair bit of warning here, Skye....... is an asshole for most of this claim and I do not condone what he essentially does but it IS part of his personality and 'job' so to speak)

(Part of Skye's life is mentioned in his sister's profile/story but essentially, his life from when he was 12 and up is practically an entire lie. He's a Watcher, whose purpose is to make sure to 'entertain' the Primordial via various 'interesting' scenarios so he's no stranger to lies. He's not a bad person per say but......... it's in his moniker, a Watcher. He's someone who would choose to watch rather than to interfere. It's practically second nature for him to lie about his entire origin and being (even his name isn't his real one lmao) as it prevents him from getting attached. There are a few certain exceptions to this but to strangers? Yeah he'll lie with a smile)

“I see.”

Beatrice, trying not to gag or grimace in the face of this cephalopod-like woman, carefully put aside her notepad and pen in favor of adjusting the brim of her hat and commenting, “Well, I at least appreciate you for eventually getting to the point, but focusing on your music is no excuse to neglect yourself like that. Besides, I’m not even the one in charge for writing articles concerning the arts; that’s for one of my coworkers, but they’re ill at the moment, so I have to be the one writing for them.” She shrugged. “Just don’t be surprised if I butcher some of the more technical terms. I don’t know the difference between brass and percussion, if I have to be honest with you.” Ouch.

“Still,” the journalist continued while crossing one leg over the other, “it’s not like I’m going to subject you to an interview nonstop, especially if you can’t concentrate because you’re low on energy. That’s just cruel. I’m an interviewer, not an interrogator. I only do the latter if you did something illegal anyhow-” She broke off, her eyes narrowing for a second as she scanned the other party for any change in her expression, before letting out a grunt and adjusting the brim of her hat once more.

“- Which I doubt you’d actually partake in,” Beatrice filled in with a huff, “There’s too much on the line for you, you know? Being a prodigy, let alone one in a field as competitive as music, is definitely a laurel to be wearing with pride. Just… Be careful with that. You don’t know how folks might try taking that into their own hands…” Which was really fucking funny, as the journalist’s eyes traveled down to the other’s… Hands? Tentacles? Suckers? Goodness, just seeing a dead, butchered fish was enough to make Beatrice wince, but…

A whole octopus? Squirming around sapiently? That was a bit too much for poor Beatrice.

So, she spoke a bit more rapidly and bluntly than before, “Luckily, I’m not that type of individual. If you wanted the interview to be called off earlier, you could’ve just… Told me. Whatever, though. I can get something for you to eat before we kick this back up again, but…” Then she trailed off once more to look into her interviewee’s eyes. “... What do you even eat in the first place?” Beatrice blurted, then regretted blurting just moments later.

“I’ll see if the snack room has what you’re looking for. Okay?” she droned, regardless of the answer given. It actually threw into question whether Beatrice was actually listening, or she just wanted to get this shit done with, but… It’s fine. Beatrice looked back over at the analog clock over them. Nineteen minutes to seventeen hours. It was going to be the last interview for the day, or so she hoped… As she looked back at the other party and sniffed, “Just be patient, and hopefully you don’t wither up before I get it for you.” There really was nothing to lose here now, huh.

mom said it's my turn for a follow-up. Beatrice gets called out as she should.

Kiko blinked rapidly while she stared at the elder party. While she processed what the woman told her, Kiko tugged on the hair tie on her wrist. After she raised an eyebrow, Kiko tilted her head and inquired:

"So...again, you're not, like, stalking people?"

After Kiko adjusted the collar of her uniform, she crossed her arms and stepped closer to Beatrice's side. Watching the older woman continue to 'mind her business', Kiko began to tie her hair up into a ponytail. She tilted her head to examine Beatrice's expression, digging her heel against the pavement before heaving out an exhale.

"What 'cha writing? Can I help? Or...no? Well, I'm gonna head over to the café across the street. Is there, like, anything you want me to fetch for you? Ooh, I almost forgot—next time you see Rochester, tell her I said hi!"

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Details on what Kiko would lie about would be dropped in a spoiler! TW for a teenage pregnancy!

Spot gurgled on her shoulder while Rochester leaned back in her seat and chewed on a piece of fruit tart that she had baked... Rochester rolled a chunk of crust in between her fingers just to see how it crumbled, then made the judgment as it seemed to disintegrate into nothing but measly little crumbs: a few days ago. It wasn't as luscious and delicate as ideal, but it was definitely still decent; "stale" might've been the best word used to describe the crust, as she then looked over at the tart she had offered to the teenager earlier.

"My wife is admittedly still pissed over you thinking that she was trying to stalk you or whatnot," the elder casually admitted with a nonchalant shrug, as if she were relaying a funny joke rather than potentially harmful information- Wait. Was she joking? The trill in Rochester's voice revealed far too little as she laughed and continued, "But I mean... I wouldn't blame you for coming to such a conclusion. I know it sounds like I'm talking shit about her to be an asshole, but I did marry her for a reason. The thing is..." She paused to lean in towards the younger party, even holding a hand out as if to mask whatever "secret" was being revealed.

"... That was what I used to think as well. I mean... At least in the sense that all journalists did was snoop into other people's business with little to no regard for their privacy or whatnot. I forgot the shit you young folks tend to relay when it comes to making those types of points, but you know... Distrusting the news and what these journalists write is almost like a rite of passage for you damn teenagers- Not that it's a bad thing, of course. Rebelling against the establishment is always something to be admired, regardless of context."

Reeling her head back slightly, the older woman then sniffed, "And in a way, what you did is... A bit like that. Rebellion in the name of love," with a slight chuckle. Though her words remained as coarse and cold as per usual, there was nonetheless that hint of warmth that mainly manifested in a small smirk on Rochester's face... Not that she could relate too much when concerning Beatrice, given that their romance was relatively smooth, but... Well... Rochester's smirk faltered, and her muscles tensed up.

Shit. You really had to remember her at this time now, huh?

Rochester bit down a grimace while petting her slug and grunting, "... I mean, that is definitely something I can see folks like you idolizing... Or shaming, in that matter. Shaming so much that you want to hide it away..." She glanced off to the side, if only to conceal the fact that her eyes were starting to cloud over ever so slightly. "... For obvious reasons, I cannot say much about the issue myself, at least in terms of personal experience, but..." she mused aloud while leaning in slightly, "I have to admit that folks like you... Are a bit courageous. But for fuck's sake, you won't help yourself if you hide the details about your son just to try pushing shit past me. I'm sixty-something years old, for fuck's sake. I've been through too much shit to be overwhelmed by much, even from a peripheral perspective." Another pause.

"You do remind me of one of my interns anyhow," she grunted with clear ambivalence in her inflection, "except... Younger. It's not the reason why I'm being soft with you-" Though the wavering in her voice sure suggested otherwise, huh? "- But it is the reason why I implore you, for every single fucking sky there is, to be more transparent. If you can be blunt as fuck about my wife and what she's doing for her job, then you can be blunt for, well... Your son. And how that affected you..." She trailed off again, her stomach starting to twist up again, before asking more coyly, "Someone like you should get some more fruit tarts and tea later on now, mm?" Wow.

time for a follow-up.... dw about how you depicted Rochester; I liked reading your response and her interpretation of her, and I found the latter pretty neat tbh!! :0c (also, Vagabond is a really cool character...... I don't normally see jester characters at all, so it's neat seeing someone like him.....)

If Rochester was taking Vagabond to be a fool, he wouldn't have any of it. 

The jester was a very observant man, always watching for the simplest of mannerisms that gave away anything left unsaid. So, when he noticed that Rochester was stumbling over herself trying to get away with something, he knew there was more to the story than what he was told. On any other occasion, he would practically jump at the chance to torment and pester someone, but he faltered now upon seeing Rochester's age wearing itself into her skin. He was growing rather soft, he lamented silently.

The way she carried herself now, nervous over something not yet known - well, it made Vagabond rather suspicious from the very start. Perhaps it was a gut feeling, but something was up, and he would be the first to figure out what it was. "Madam, if I may..." he began, gently placing a hand on Rochester's shoulder and noticing how she jumped ever so slightly. "You seem rather shaken. Is something the matter?" 

Now that he was closer, he took a moment to properly analyze her; he noted how she avoided eye contact, leaning just enough away so that she wouldn't have to face him. And, now that he was given the time, she did look rather familiar to him... 

... of course! He had seen her while he was busking. His performance had been the usual routine - magic, storytelling, anything that caught the attention of gullible passersby who were willing to toss him their spare change. Rochester had been on the outskirts, watching him entertain his audience. She didn't look to be the type to find interest in his work, but he didn't question it; an audience is an audience. 

However, if his suspicions were correct, she had nabbed a few of the coins that had strayed away from the collection given to him. It wasn't much, he knew, but they were his nonetheless. 

And he intended on getting them back.

"Ah... I see why you're so anxious now; I believe you have a certain something in your pockets that does not belong to you," he sneered. His grip on her shoulder tightened, and he held his other hand in front of her. "If my memory serves me correct, you took a few coins that hadn't made it to my person during my performance - coins that I rightfully earned." As he spoke, he silently pushed back his cloak, revealing the hilt of his gleaming sword nestled snug in its scabbard. He didn't dare utter it aloud, but he wouldn't be above using force should this little exchange not go according to his plan. "You're very fortunate that I am a forgiving person when it comes to someone like you. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt - perhaps you didn't know that those were for me. Perhaps you need it for something. I don't really care, if I'm being honest with you. But lying to me will only result in turmoil."

"Now, if you could please return those to me, we can both be on our way and forget that this little transaction ever happened." 

(kafkaesque sorry for the late reply but heres a follow up !! )

Smith stared at the stuffed toy cat in front of her, then back at the jester with a clearly saddened look on her expression. Time for the damn puppy eyes, apparently.

"I... I see," she started with a stammer while wringing her hands together, "I think I should've seen it coming in hindsight, but you didn't need to try getting money from me like that... I would've given you the money regardless of whether you were being honest with the magic bit or not..." Did she even know how his magic worked? Who knows, as the young woman held up her stuffed toy cat and gave its sides a rather pitiful-looking squeeze. To say that Smith wasn't bummed out by the fact that the plush couldn't turn into a real cat - even for a moment - was a complete misread-

Or maybe it was for the best, considering that her husband seemed hostile to the idea of anything soft. Her pet ferret already pissed him off, and that mustelid pretty much screamed whenever Johnson was around (for some reason, in Smith's eyes)... Did he expect a cat to scream too? Especially an adorable-looking moggy such as this?

The young woman chewed on her lip for a second before carefully lowering the toy and sighing, "Besides, I think people sort of ignore the prevalence of magic too often. I don't really know whether it's real or not, but it does sound entertaining, mm?" Ah, so Smith was still under the perception that his magic consisted of card tricks and pulling rabbits out of hats- Speaking of which, Smith was definitely intrigued by his hat as she stared up at the flashy display, then gave him a soft and somewhat strained smile.

"And dramatic too," she commented with a flutter of her eyes, "Very dramatic. You definitely immersed the crowd with that performance of yours, regardless of whether it was different from what I expected..." Smith glanced over at her pocket, before pulling out what appeared to be a coin purse... Honey, what are you doing?

"Give me a moment," the young woman squeaked while opening the purse to reveal what appeared to be a whole collection of coins. None of them were particularly valuable on their own, of course, but... It was pretty clear from the apparent weight of the object that Smith was rich. No wonder she was a prime target for scams, with her wealth and naivety! Alas, she didn't even seem fazed by this fact as she pulled out several golden coins and held them out for the other party to take.

With a slightly larger smile than before, Smith chimed while hugging her toy cat close to her, "Here! They're made of real gold, though I'm not sure if you care about such things. Think of this as a tip, by the way. I hope you and that clown friend of yours will come around again soon; my son's a bit young for these types of festivities right now, but I think he'll start exploring more soon! I think something like that would keep him entertained, mm?" Uhhh... She then closed up her purse and dipped her head. "So, thank you for your performance! Even if you did dupe me there for a second. Just... Ask me if you need money, okay? I'm more than happy to give some if needed! Anything for good entertainment, sir!" Hon...

@ NP: this tab primarily focuses on pre-hospice Smith, but you're welcome to refer to her post-hospice tab if you so desire!! just lmk if this is the case so that I can respond appropriately!! also, characterization notes are underneath the spoiler due to length + discussions of abuse/neglect!!

maaaaaybe NP can also get a follow-up if I have the time!!

The texan furrowed his eye brows and tilted his head in confusion " you lied?? C'mon Smith... " the engineer relaxed alittle " I thought you were better than this. I guess its half my fault..."

He frowned in disappointment " I guess I really shouldn't go trusting people i guess this just solidified my point "

np- Jamie would only lie for someone's own good or for something thats clearly non of their business 

Skinner couldn't help but shake his head and remark, "Huh," when he first uncovered the news for himself.

In a way, it was almost... Surreal? Was that the right word to describe how he felt at the moment? By the skies, Skinner didn't know. The silkie soup did little to soothe the dull discomfort that had started to gnaw at his stomach. Of course, it wasn't pain by any means. Just... Discomfort. Yea. Discomfort. But it wasn't over the general's supposed track record of killing innocent people, at least not exactly, that unnerved the middle-aged aristocrat so deeply.

It was more just... The fact that it could've been him who was caught in the lie. Him, out of all the people out there. He didn't deserve this, of course, even as he awkwardly shuffled himself in his seat and reached out for the obligatory cup of chamomile tea. Skinner was rational, and therefore he was right. All he had to do was ponder to himself for a bit and wonder "why" the general would resort to such... "Barbaric" actions.

For the sake of her job? Skinner pondered to himself before sighing, "Well, there's a reason why military excursions don't normally get sponsored by the aristocrats...", and placing the cup down. "As someone who's involved in politics as a sovereign," he sniffed to her in an almost-scolding manner, "you should know better than to make... Rash decisions like that." He folded his hands together and cocked his head at her.

"Of course, I can't exactly condemn people for lying," the older man professed with a slightly awkward, almost-out-of-place laugh, "I know for a fact that lying can be a viable method in the event that revealing the truth would incur far, far more costs than a simple blanket statement." Skinner then paused, his voice faltering slightly as he coughed into his sleeve and broke off eye contact with the Lieutenant General. "But that's generally the exception, not the norm. It's generally better to be honest and upfront, both when dealing with equals and with laypeople. People don't like being lied to, and you're rather lucky that I happen to be the merciful type..." Oh?

Skinner paused again, for at least fifteen seconds, before he sighed and leaned back in his seat.

"I'm fine with chess, though, really," professed the aristocrat in an attempt to change the subject- Not that he expected it to pan out too well in the first place, considering how... Volatile others could be when their deepest secrets were revealed. "You know how much I love to play chess in my free time. It relaxes the mind while exercising it too..." He coughed into his sleeve. "I suppose that we could both use it right now, really," Skinner then muttered... As if that wasn't an understatement on its own.

@ NP: as per usual, characterization notes will be under a spoiler for the sake of post brevity!! you don't have to completely heed to these if you don't want to; going outside the box is a-okay with me. :3c

maybe I'll also do a follow-up for NP if I have the time?? perhaps...