InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "where roleplay reigns supreme"

Malcolm de Rainault | The Sheriff of Nottingham (whyaspooncousin) wrote in nevermore_logs,
@ 2021-06-25 20:49:00

Entry tags:

friar tuck, little john, much the miller's son, robin hood, sheriff of nottingham, will scarlet

WHO: Sheriff of Nottingham, Much the Miller's Son, then probably others
WHEN: Saturday afternoon
WHERE: Parsonage
WHAT: Help me
WARNINGS: TBA

It had taken months for Malcolm to make it out of the woods. After his first death, every single time he came back, he would make it about a day before he would die of starvation again. And every time he woke up right where he had died, with no idea what direction to walk in, and no forest sense, to be able to live off the land, and by nightfall he would keel over and die.

It was just luck which saw him finally, finally wake up in New York City. In Central Park. Probably not 500 feet from where Much had woken up after Malcolm had killed him, not that Malcolm knew that.

He had tried to get home to his apartment, but the state of him meant the doorman turned him away. Didn't even recognise him. He was skin and bone, unshaven, and he smelled like a corpse. Funny, that. And it wasn't like he could explain what was going on, since his words kept coming out all jumbled up. Malcolm was fairly sure John's doorman would react similarly, and if he showed up to his king looking like this- No. He needed to get out of open spaces, Artemis was around, after all. And he couldn't go to John. He couldn't go home.

It was only desperation that had him knocking on the door of the parsonage. He could feel his body failing again. If he didn't get some food into it he was going to die again, and the Merry Men were awful sure, but they still fed the hungry, right? He pounded on the door and leaned against it heavily, hoping someone would answer. And quickly. Hell he almost didn't care if after this they sent him to prison. As long as he was safe from Artemis and out of those woods he would take it.

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muchofamuchness
2021-06-25 09:49 am UTC (link)

The plan was to have a full three course meal waiting for Tuck and Will by the time they got home from the hospital. Flora was helping, in that she was sitting at his feet watching him laying slices of bacon over a chicken in a roasting dish. She might have been more demanding, but Much had taken her out after lunch and run around the nearest park so many times he'd worn them both out.

Little John was out getting something for dessert that wouldn't melt the instant it caught sight of the sun. He'd mentioned something about angel food cake as he'd gone out the door, and Much had to yell out the window after him "IT'S NOT A REAL CAKE WITHOUT BUTTER!" to which he'd received a cheery wave.

The banging on the door probably wasn't Little John yet though. Maybe Alan decided to join him? Whoever it was felt familiar but - Much realised half way to the door - anyone who felt that kind of familiar wouldn't knock.

Not at the Parsonage. Not at the place where they all had a key. They'd unlock the door and holler.

Well, Art might knock, but Art would use one of his many message-bearing secret knocks. Much had been assiduous in learning them all, he knew he'd recognise Art's knock if he heard it and this definitely wasn't Art. Art wouldn't just bang. This was banging. There was no, well, art to it.

Shit? Much's hand went to his back pocket as he moved toward the door, making sure he had his collapsible staff on him. He did, and the second he saw through the cameras who was on their doorstep, he pulled the staff out.

Well, the second after. Maybe two or three seconds after. The Sheriff did not look like his old self. And here was Much in a tank top with utterly non-puncture resistant trousers. Fuck. No way he was letting himself get tranqed.

He swallowed, and gathered his courage to him. "You come for another beating?!" he shouted through the door, wondering how bloody obvious it was that he was the only one home.

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	whyaspooncousin 2021-06-25 09:54 am UTC (link)
	It sounded like the Miller's Son. "Please!" Malcolm gasped, leaning against the door, letting it take his weight. The walk over here had taken all the energy he had. "Understand me don't please let in you!" The sheriff groaned and tried again, "please let me in, you don't understand! I need help!" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

muchofamuchness
2021-06-25 10:02 am UTC (link)

Much backed away from the door a few paces. Whatever the Sheriff's voice was saying, it still struck a gross fear right in his belly.

Fuck that, though. Much wasn't gonna be scared. Much was angry. This fuckhead had nearly destroyed so many of his friends, carefully, deliberately, without remorse. He'd built a cell for every one of them.

Much wanted backup, but he didn't want to take his hands off his staff for long enough to text Rob.

Much dismissed the plea for help immediately, refusing to believe it was genuine despite the state of him, but oh, Much was going to let him in, alright. Much wasn't going to take his eyes off this arsehole for a second. "Put your hands on your head!" he shouted through the door, narrowing his eyes at the screen, searching for a tranquiliser. "And step away from the door!" Why didn't he carry handcuff on him at all times, handcuffs would be so perfect right now? Goddammit, why was Tuck's bedroom so far from the front door?

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	whyaspooncousin 2021-06-25 10:13 am UTC (link)
	Malcolm groaned and he leaned up off the door, wobbling on his feet. He put his hands on his head as Much told him too, and he stood there, looking pained and weak. Both of which he was. Couldn't Much see there was literally no chance Malcolm could hurt him? Not in the state he was in, and not after his ordeal with Artemis. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

muchofamuchness
2021-06-25 10:31 am UTC (link)

He did look pained and weak, but he was still the Sheriff, still the man who'd traumatised Marian and Tuck and the Wills, who'd tied up Marcie, who'd killed him. The list of crimes were long.

Carefully, slowly, Much reached forward with one hand to slide the bolt off the door, keeping his eyes firmly on the Sheriff for any hint of movement. There wasn't enough room in the doorway for a good solid horizontal swing of the staff, but as soon as the door opened Much went vertical, and swept the thin staff as fast as he could - and fueled by all the freaking adrenaline that came with opening the door to the Sheriff - up between the Sheriff's legs to debilatate him as quickly as possible.

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	whyaspooncousin 2021-06-25 10:34 am UTC (link)
	Malcolm groaned and he crumbled to his knees. Pain was all he knew anyway, but the sudden explosive anguish of what Much had done to him was different than the dull pain of everything else. "WHY?!" he cried out, looking up at Much, his eyes pleaded. "I need your help!" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

muchofamuchness
2021-06-25 11:07 am UTC (link)

"Why?" Much echoed, gobsmacked and incredulous, and only stopped himself from screaming a list of the Sheriff's crimes because he remembered he was standing in the door of a Parsonage and maybe beating up people who were pleading for help was gonna be a bad look for Tuck's church if anyone saw him. He reached down and grabbed the back of the Sheriff's filthy shirt to haul him inside, throwing him down onto the floor and bolting the door quickly in case there were reinforcements out there. Much wasn't going to make it easy for any friends of the Sheriff to come rescue him.

"You come here for help?" Much had his staff ready to whack him again if he made a move toward him. "After what you did? Fuck you!" he snapped, and decided to hit the Sheriff again anyway, this time across his back, where he'd whipped Stutely.

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whyaspooncousin
2021-06-25 11:11 am UTC (link)

Malcolm cried out in pain when Much threw him to the ground, but when Much hit him, he didn't make a sound. It was all too much. He was asking for help and no one was listening. Maybe he should just die again here on the floor of his enemy's house. He curled up, and he was able to curl up quite small, being nothing but skin and bones. He put his hands up over his head and a dry sob snuck out of his throat.

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muchofamuchness
2021-06-25 11:45 am UTC (link)

It was some kind of trick, that sob. Had to be. The bastard.

But at least the bastard wasn't moving. It was hard to launch an attack while you were curled as tight as you could to protect yourself. Much remembered. He was pretty sure he'd died in that position.

And - lucky Sheriff - at least Much only had a staff, thinner and lighter than the wrench the Sheriff had used to break him on the side of that road, twenty-odd months ago. And Much was barefoot, no steelcapped shoes to kick him with, and kick him and kick him.

Right - with a viciously adrenaline filled stomach, Much scanned the room for something to use to tie the Sheriff up. The cord from the fan - that would do, it was long enough to wind around the Sheriff's wrists a few times, and close enough Much could grab it now. He wasn't gentle about it, but he didn't bind those bony wrists so tightly they were going to fall off even though the Sheriff deserved every bit of pain Much could inflict, and more. "I'm gonna stand you up now, and you're going to walk with me a ways, and please, please try something stupid so I can smack you again," Much said, grabbing the Sheriff's bound wrists, and the back of his shirt, and hauling him to his feet again. He wasn't hard to move, he was getting as skinny as Tuck had been, but there was the added awkwardness of dragging a fan along behind him.

Still, it'd do till Much got some proper rope.

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	whyaspooncousin 2021-06-25 11:55 am UTC (link)
	Malcolm had no strength left to argue. He let Much haul him up and the stumbled along where ever Much was directing him. He didn't really care. "Starving," he did manage to whisper. He needed something to eat or he was going to die again. Soon. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	muchofamuchness 2021-06-25 12:10 pm UTC (link)
	"Oh yeah, like you did to my friends?" Much asked, marching the Sheriff to a chair and sitting him down in it, making sure the tall back of the chair went between the Sheriff's back and his tied up wrists. "Like you were gonna do to all of us if you'd got your sick little way?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

whyaspooncousin
2021-06-25 12:19 pm UTC (link)

Malcolm melted into the chair, his head resting against it as he looked up at Much. His eyes were bleary and there was no malice left in them. He was just a broken, sad man. "Yes," he admitted. Why wouldn't he. What the fuck else did he have to lose. "Eaten haven't in since I saw me time you Arizona last the!" Malcolm whimpered and tried again, "I haven't eaten since the last time you saw me in Arizona!" Well he had choked down the stolen eggs, but he had thrown them back up again. He took another breath and then he said, "please. Dying."

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muchofamuchness
2021-06-25 12:46 pm UTC (link)

The word scrambling was really unnerving, Much was sure it was some kind of trick, too, something to mess with his head.

"Yeah it sucks, doesn't it?" Much said coldly, and saw Flora's lead hanging on a hook. He grabbed it, and with a "Don't kick me" started binding one of the the Sheriff's ankles to the hardcarved wood of the chair leg, suddenly wondering where Flora had disappeared to, though he was grateful she wasn't trying to jump all over him like some dogs, when you grabbed their lead.

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	whyaspooncousin 2021-06-25 12:51 pm UTC (link)
	Malcolm let out another sob, but he didn't kick. Didn't do anything, he just sat there. "Please. Anything," he begged again. He didn't care what Much gave him to eat, he was going to choke it down anyway. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

muchofamuchness
2021-06-25 01:22 pm UTC (link)

The Sheriff stank, and Much was tempted to tell him but it was such a low blow. It shouldn't have mattered how low the blow was, since this was the Sheriff, but telling someone in a shitty situation that they stank, something that was entirely out of their control? Much didn't want to do that.

He also didn't want to admit that the Sheriff was in a shitty situation. He didn't want to believe the Sheriff's words were genuine, that the desperation rolling off him was real.

"Yeah sure you are," Much said, reminding himself that the Sheriff's begging was as much of a trick as his mixed up words. Well - trying to remind himself. He wasn't so sure he believed it. "Just - shut up," he said, before the Sheriff could open his mouth again. He didn't want the Sheriff to keep begging. Maybe he should, maybe the Sheriff deserved to beg and beg and beg, but listening to it was making Much feel sick inside.

Fuck, he needed the lads here. Rob would know what was a trick and what wasn't.

Much stood up and inspected his work after binding the Sheriff's waist (it was brutally thin) to the chair with an extension cord, and using the end of it on his other leg. He definitely wasn't moving anywhere soon, and after Much patted him down for a cellphone and found nothing, he wasn't going to call for help either, not like Much was about to do.

He sent the call out, but not to everyone. Marian and Tuck and Will and Stutely, he left them out of it, he didn't want to tell them anything till he was sure the Sheriff wasn't going to be a threat. And yeah he didn't look like much of a threat right now, but what the hell did that mean? Much wasn't letting his guard down, no way.

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whyaspooncousin
2021-06-25 01:30 pm UTC (link)

So he had come here for help, and there was nothing. More pain and starvation. He had been right about the Merry Men all along and here was proof. They thought they were heroes, and Much was refusing to feed a starving man.

He hung his head, since there was no way he could fight the bindings, and he closed his eyes. It wouldn't be long now. Let them deal with his corpse.

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muchofamuchness
2021-06-25 09:13 pm UTC (link)

"The others are coming," Much said as soon as Rob's message came through, speaking out loud because he couldn't handle the silence, thick as tar and deeply uncomfortable. "Why're you back here, Rottingham, huh?" He asked, banging his phone against his leg, restless and distressed and wishing he was being cooler about all of this. "Why'd you drag your arse here from Arizona?"

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	whyaspooncousin 2021-06-26 10:08 am UTC (link)
	Did Much expect him to be able to speak? He was too hungry. Too tired. Too close to dying. Too afraid. He just lifted his gaze to look at the other man, pleading, broken. Help him or don't, but decide. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

muchofamuchness
2021-06-26 10:33 am UTC (link)

Much narrowed his eyes into the most sinister shapes he could manage. The Sheriff had been able to speak a minute ago, now he was being stubborn or - well -

Goddammit, the look in his eyes was penetrating, and it was deeply disturbing. Much wished Rob was here already, wished they all lived closer, wished he wasn't the one the Sheriff was looking at.

He couldn't handle that look. It was making him feel guilty. About the Sheriff. How fucked up was that? Much turned and stomped off to the kitchen to fill a glass of water. It didn't make him feel like a good person. He felt too angry and manipulated to feel like a good person. But bloody hell the Sheriff looked desperate, and maybe a glass of water would stop him looking at Much like that.

He held the glass to the Sheriff's mouth, fully expecting this to blow up (or get spat back) in his face. "Just know this is more than you left my boys with," he pointed out, pissed off all to hell.

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whyaspooncousin
2021-06-26 10:40 am UTC (link)

Malcolm sucked the water down desperately, greedily. He didn't pause to breath, in case Much took the glass away while he was still drinking-

It was what he would have done...

"Thank you," he whispered, when he had finished the entire glass. His stomach cramped painfully at the presence of something in it, even if it was just water, and he winced and grunted. "I- Thank you. I woke up here." He wouldn't have made it from Arizona.

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muchofamuchness
2021-06-26 11:03 am UTC (link)

"You woke up here - at the parsonage?" Fucking hell that was bad news. Did he wake up here because it was a place that was familiar to him? Or did he wake up here because here's where the Merry Men were? This bought up all Much's old thoughts of leaving (and his not-so-old thoughts, ones that had been kicking around in his mind since he admitted to Mary he didn't actually like the city, ones that had been growing a little louder since Marcie said she was heading home for the Summer.) Bought them up but then shot them right down again. What if they offed the Sheriff (as Art's message had just insisted Much do) and he woke up wherever they went? The fact that the Sheriff woke up here just suggested to Much they were never really going to be free.

But no, it couldn't be! It was such a big country. There had to be somewhere they could live. There had to be some way. Some way that wasn't a toilet dungeon. Shit, he hoped Rob hadn't told Marian.

But also, if he had, then at least that was Rob's decision. At least Rob was making decisions again. Much couldn't wait for him to get here and help him with this one.

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whyaspooncousin
2021-06-26 11:07 am UTC (link)

"No!" Malcolm said, trying to pull together the strength to explain. "New York." He couldn't use sentences that were too long, he tended to muddle them, especially when he was stressed. He didn't have the energy for it anyway. The sheriff glanced sideways and his sight fell on a banana on the coffee table. God he had never wanted anything more. "Banana?" he asked, his voice desperate.

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	muchofamuchness 2021-06-26 11:24 am UTC (link)
	Well... waking up in New York was better than waking up in the parsonage garden, Much guessed. Still meant the Sheriff had come here of his own accord though, the bastard. "You can have some banana if you tell me why you're not trying to get as far from us as possible," Much said, folding his arms. "Didn't Artemis make it clear what'd happen if you didn't?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	whyaspooncousin 2021-06-26 11:33 am UTC (link)
	The sheriff nodded. He could do that. "Couldn't get into my apartment." Slow and steady. Stay slow and steady so he could keep his words straight. "Artemis could find me. Need help. You say you're good. Prove it. Banana?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	muchofamuchness 2021-06-27 10:17 pm UTC (link)
	"Prove it? To you, judge of the world?" Much said incredulously. Sure, he felt the need to prove himself sometimes, but not to the Sheriff. "Or you'll what - go back to building us all a dungeon? Because I didn't feed you a banana after everything you did to Marian? To my boys? After what you did to me? You want me to prove myself with a banana?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)