Dec. 12th, 2037 08:05 pm
irishrotter: (Default)

HOW AM I DOING with Simon Monroe? Feel free to leave any crit or questions here. Anon comments and screening are on, IP logging is off!
irishrotter: (Default)

IC Inbox
[voice | video | text]
irishrotter: (offer me that deathless death)
[Warden Filter]

[Simon's relative silence over the airwaves has continued since the Admiral's disappearance, continued into the arguing over Arthas' punishment and his brief transformation. He's felt paralyzed, unable to speak: he knows what he believes, but he also knows that he's just as furious as anyone else, if not moreso. He hasn't trusted himself until now. Not when he hasn't even known if he's staying aboard or not... But Tiffany's graduation and Pietro's arrival have changed something for him. It's difficult to define, but grounded in a way he hasn't been in a while. He's needed here. He still is, and he still believes. He's staying.

But not without working on some changes, he thinks. So here he is: Simon, returned to the sermon.]

Listen, everyone. My fellow so-called wardens. I know that we've all heard, and maybe a lot of us have said, that cohesion among us is a pipe dream. That there are too many of us, with too many different backgrounds, too many ideas...

What is it they say? Too many cooks in the kitchen? [He flashes a quick, faint smile, then shakes his head, growing serious.]

We all know the problems that have resulted from that. Especially if we believe some of the stories we've been told lately. And I'm not saying this is something easily surmounted -- that all we have to do is try a little harder and we'll all be able to work together. But if we're going to do right by the people still on board this ship, with or without the Admiral, we need to at least be able to stay on the same page when answering the most fundamental questions about it. About our purpose here.

So I ask you: what is it? Why are we here?


[He has more to say, but something seems to take hold of him, making his voice trail off. Whatever's in control, it's tired of waiting for him to wrap up. He hesitates, then switches to--]


[--and continues, a little distantly:]

The following Wardens and Inmates have been paired:

Anya Lehnsherr // [personal profile] fridgetothefire → Ricki Tarr // [personal profile] rickitikitarr
Horatio Hornblower // [personal profile] sssiiiiirrrrr → Tim "Roderick" Nelson // [personal profile] characterdefect
Simon Monroe // [personal profile] irishrotter → Poison Ivy // [personal profile] chlorophylliac

The wardens should expect a file to be delivered to their cabins shortly. Please familiarize yourselves with the information therein and introduce yourselves to your new Inmates as soon as possible.

[...Wait. He comes back to himself, blinking in belated surprise.]

And... that's me. [He clears his throat and tries to smile again.] Right. Well, Ivy? I believe we've met.
irishrotter: (a fresh poison each week)
[Friends filter, after the port]

[This broadcast is a little bit delayed compared to most of the others, like there's something Simon needed to do prior to checking in. Still, he looks as worried and relieved as everyone else when he does reach out to his friends.

No one will be surprised to know that neither Arthas nor Sylvanas remain on this list.]

Tell me you're all okay.

[Spam, open]

[Simon's communicator remains quiet after that. He answers his messages in a generally timely fashion, but there are no further broadcasts. The lack of sermons from the pulpit continues as it did after the sha took him over; he has no sermons to give. He's not suffering from the aches and pains of those who death tolled on the Barge, but he feels an echo of their weary faces in his own soul. He feels exhausted, too, even if it's a different kind of exhaustion.

On the surface, nothing has changed except that he has an emergency supply of neurotriptyline on him at all times now -- and thank Christ, only a few people know about that, anyway. Beyond that, though, he feels almost as lost and aimless as he was out in the desert. He shuffles along his daily routine. He takes his shot obediently when he wakes up, spends his mornings in the chapel and his afternoons in the library and doesn't really seem to bother with anything else, though he does still sometime turns up on the deck in the evenings to watch the stars go by.]
irishrotter: (this is hungry work)
[Spam for Tiffany and Kylar]

[Things seem to have mostly settled down again since Simon made his grand declaration to the network, but he still only finds himself growing more bitter and angry by the day. He doesn't deliver any more sermons, at least not publicly. Privately, he has nothing good to say about his fellow wardens, or any of the living; he rants peevishly to his friends about them. Secretly, there's a part of him that's sorry Kieren took all his Blue Oblivion. That might show some of them, he thinks...

Instead, he keeps sullenly to himself, his increasingly thin tolerance extended only for inmates, then only to his special little circle. Eventually, even most of them start to grate on his nerves. With the exception of the Azerothians, they're too alive. Everyone here is too alive. It doesn't even occur to him that there might be something feeding on his mind, nourishing the hate in him. He's better than that. He's a disciple.

And because he's a disciple, he continues to try with some of them. He's begrudgingly allowed some actual food into his kitchen and he's bringing Tiffany over for tea when they happen across Kylar in the corridor. Kylar is definitely not one of those people, and Simon's hackles instantly rise to see him near his door, near where Kieren's door used to be. He sneers a greeting.]

Kyle. Or-- no, it's something else, really, isn't it?

[Spam for Merlin, later]

[Alone, Simon paces the living room, disheveled and upset. Possessed. She'd used the word possessed. He's not-- he knows he's not-- he can't be-- but she asked if he is, and he doesn't know what she's going to do with that suspicion. What will happen if he's seen as a threat. He has visions of going back to shackles. Treatment, they'll call it.

By the time he hears someone at the cabin door, he's a wreck, but he tells himself that he's not going to go easily. He stalks to the door and throws it open, snarling.]

Just try it.
irishrotter: (the only heaven i'll be sent to)

[Simon usually broadcasts from his living room, but today the pulpit has moved. He's standing, the camera far back enough to show him from the knees up -- and more importantly the fluffy, spotlessly white wings that have sprouted from his back. The only thing visible behind him is a full-length mirror just off-centered enough to show the other side off to the camera. He's still fully clothed, his shirt slit to accommodate for the wings.

The broadcast comes late in the day, and the reason for this will become clear soon enough: he practiced with the wings before appearing on screen. His words are punctuated with grand sweeps and righteous trembling of feathers. Kieren would be embarrassed, maybe even horrified, but. Well. Kieren's not here, is he?

Simon is. He flutters a wing and smirks sardonically.]

Well, I don't think I'm ready to ascend just yet...

[But that's not why he's here. Today, he is an angel of fury. His expression fades into iciness, growing increasingly dark and increasingly intent as he goes on.]

There is a sickness on this ship. I've been watching it spread for weeks, now, and I'm tired of standing idly by while the source becomes clearer and clearer.

Wardens eschewing inmates. Wardens rubbing inmates' noses in the profits gained off their sweat and blood. Wardens forcing death tolls on inmates! Even those of you who should know better! Those who know what it is to die, to be imprisoned, to strive for a better life.

That's why we're all here, isn't it? Some voluntarily, some not, but we're all here for a chance at something better. Only everywhere I look, I see the same thing: the living, new and old, doing everything they can to get in the way of the dead achieving anything. Crushing them beneath their feet like so much dust.

You that I'm speaking to -- you all know who you are. There is a sickness destroying this ship, and it starts with you. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.

[He sneers and signs off with a final flare of his wings.]

((Note: Simon is going to be very selectively replying, partly to save my inbox and partly because he doesn't give a damn right now what most people are going to have to say to this. WHOOPS, HIS BAD, DOUCHEBAGS.))
irishrotter: (good God)
[Video -- before Kieren's departure]

I know that some of you are feeling trapped. Some of the inmates, maybe even some of you wardens that have already left life behind.

[Simon is sitting, as usual, on the couch in his living room, like he's ready to give another little sermon. He looks more tense than usual, though, his brow furrowed, hands knit in his lap.]

I wish I could tell you that everything will become clear an instant from now. I wish I could tell you that the skies will part in this moment and give you all the clarity and hope you've ever wanted. I'm truly sorry that I can't.

But I do know this: anyone who has been through what you're going through -- what some of us have been through -- has something better ahead of them. I truly believe that, as much as I ever have. It may be farther ahead for some than others, but... I want you to keep that in mind. Please.

[He smiles, a little anxiously, and switches off.]

[Private to Mewtwo]

Is there anything you need from me?

[Spam - after Kieren's departure]

[It's not just the port or Kieren leaving that has Simon so wound up... )

[He tries to stick to his usual routine as much as possible despite all of this: now he gives himself his shot in the morning, which is awkward but manageable; time spent in the chapel or the library after that; rounds of the Barge to check in on his inmate friends; a few hours every day where his cabin door is open for visitors -- office hours of a sort. He still goes to the deck nightly, either the pub or the Enclosure. Outside of all that habit, though, things are starting to get a little erratic.]
irishrotter: (she demands a sacrifice)

[This time, Simon is broadcasting not from his own cabin, but from Mira's, sitting on the end of her bed. To a careful observer, it seems like he's been there a while: she's tucked into the bed behind him, hair brushed back from her face, as neatly and carefully arranged as if she were about to be buried. He looks a little perturbed.]

Is there some kind of virus going around? Mira's asleep too, I'm afraid. She seems to be okay otherwise, but I can't get her up.


[He tilts the camera down to show Mira's octolemur sitting on his lap, curled around his other hand.]

Does anyone know what to do with one of these?
irishrotter: (Default)
[So almost two months in, Simon had thought he was finally getting used to the Barge, but this is just... strange.]

Can anyone tell me what the hell is going on? I'm pretty sure this wasn't covered in the welcome brochure.

[ETA: Later]

[After the explanations, after Amy, Simon is looking a little less disturbed and a lot more intent. He's sitting forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his folded hands.]

Are any others among the Redeemed here with us today?

[Hope against hope: maybe Julian will pick up. Maybe the Prophet will pick up.

He's trying not to think about the other option: that there are other dead people from his world, actually dead people, that could come around to say hello.]
irishrotter: (is when i'm alone with you)
[Private to all friendly CR, backdated to the 30th]

Is everyone okay?

[Private to Arthas]

[He was a little nervous about this pairing situation at first... but then something very particular about wardening Arthas occurred to him, and now he's honestly starting to find it funny. There's a small smile, maybe even a smirk, on his face.]

Seems to me you've got at least a month-long conflict of interest now.
irishrotter: (good God)
[Seemingly public video, actually filtered to inmates]

Well, then.

[Simon is back on the couch in the bungalow, and technically nothing has changed from his last broadcast, but he looks different, somehow. Less chilly, less distant, like the warm knit sweater he's wearing (from his own collection) actually makes sense on him.]

I swear, I'm learning more and more about this place every day. Anyway -- I thought I'd contribute something a little less philosophical this time.

Cut for references to drug use and implied zombie-esque shenanigans )

I wanted to share that with you because I know some of you are curious, and because I know some of you -- all of you -- have stories worth sharing, too. I'd like to hear them, if you do. [There's no guile in his expression, no apparent trick. There really isn't one. He's trying.]

[Open Spam for the Chapel]

[--which is seeing more action this month than it has in years, apparently. Simon had told Dillon that he wasn't planning on coming back here, that he'd be using the little altar in his own cabin, but things are different now. His room suits him when he wants to be alone; the chapel is where the others are, and in the wake of learning the truth about the inmates on this ship, he wants to be here. He needs to see more. He needs to understand.

So he comes here to pray, but also to observe. He tends to stay towards the back now to make it easier, alternately sitting and thumbing through the well-worn copy of the Bible that doubles as his warden item, or kneeling, softly intoning a... unique variety of prayers: the Rosary, counting on his fingers, but mixed in with it murmurings from Corinthians 15 or Relevation.]

Gift List )
irishrotter: (offer me my deathless death)
[Open Spam for the Pub]

[The man that walks into the pub early in the evening is tall and broad-shouldered, well-groomed... and very, very pale. Deathly pale, even, right down to his white irises. Some of the Redeemed hide behind makeup and contact lenses, but not Simon. He long ago left behind the pretense of fitting in amongst the living, and it takes a pretty extreme circumstance to get him to reach for the mousse compact.

One might wonder why he bothers with the pub at all. He neither eats nor drinks, and he doesn't so much as try to. He just finds a table with a good view of the rest of the place, sits quietly, and watches. The ghostly cast of his eyes might make him look a little menacing, but his body language is more or less calm, something that's neither quite a smile nor a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.]

[Video, Public]

[You don't have to do it like this, Kieren had told him, but he's not sure he knows any other way to do it. So here he is, broadcasting from his -- Amy's -- living room, in a comfortable-looking knit sweater and sitting on a cushy armchair, his gray hands folded in his lap. He speaks with a slow, sonorous voice, his Irish accent turning the words to liquid.]

Nothing you can do can make God love you more or less. Your old life is gone. Begin anew with us.

So I was told the last time I struck out looking for a new community. A different kind from the one I'd been shackled to before. [He smiles faintly.] There's a similar kind of welcome to be had here, I hope.

[And okay, Kieren, here's a concession to you, too, especially because he's still resolutely not wearing even the slightest bit of cover-up. He relaxes slightly, taking on a somewhat more... natural posture, his smile widening to something less mysterious and more friendly.]

My name is Simon.
irishrotter: (Default)
User Name/Nick: Juniper
User DW: meh
AIM/IM: ricinbeens
E-mail: iamthejunipertree at gmail
Other Characters: the other dark-haired gay dude with the ugly sweaters

Character Name: Simon Monroe
Series: In the Flesh
Age: Biologically 27, chronologically 32
From When?: After Amy's funeral.

Inmate/Warden: Warden. On paper, Simon -- being a disciple of a zombie cult -- may seem like prime inmate material, but he's actually a very decent and caring man. All he wants is for himself and his fellow undead to live free and peaceful, unburdened and unharmed by the living. He's warm and genuine with his congregation and truly tries to understand the people he cares about and give them what he believes they need. For example, he lets Amy think of herself and him as a couple even though he's gay because he believes she needs to feel loved and he wants to give that to her regardless of whether or not his feelings for her are romantic. While he would be best suited to a fairly specific kind of inmate (read: undead), he would really try to help lead them to a better life.

Item: A pocket Bible.

Abilities/Powers: Simon is a PDS Sufferer, although the Undead Liberation Army prefer to call themselves the Redeemed. In popular terminology, though, he's a straight-up zombie with zombie abilities, most notably that he can't die unless his brain is destroyed. In his "untreated" or rabid state, he cannot feel pain or any other sensations other than, perhaps, discomfort and hunger. When treated with neurotriptyline, it is implied that PDS Sufferers may be able to feel some mild sensations as their brain cells regenerate. With the drug, he definitely can feel emotions and enjoy or dislike certain sensations (he likes kissing; he does not enjoy being vivisected). He must be injected with neurotriptyline once every 24 hours or he will start to revert back to his rabid condition. In either state, he is stronger than most living humans, vulnerable to electricity, and unable to ingest anything but brains (human or animal).

Personality: [cw: drug use, depression, human experimentation, religious fanaticism]

In terms of the face he shows the world, Simon is an interesting contradiction. On the one hand, as a cult church leader, he has a pretty intense demeanor and a certain flair for the dramatic. He likes art and poetry. He plays the guitar. He's decent at making speeches and even better at making statements: going to the pub with no coverup on to provoke the living, freeing captured rabid undead, throwing a party where everyone comes in the clothes they were buried in. When Kieren jokingly refers to him as a modern-day Moses, he doesn't exactly disagree.

At the same time, though, he's not actually very charismatic or personable, and certainly not very... well, lively. He's capable of caring and making people feel cared for, and he's got a sense of humor, but he's not exactly someone you would go to for a good time one-on-one. He's the guy who sets up the party and then sits outside -- literally. Despite his intensity, he also usually seems pretty contained, quiet even when he gets angry. Even when provoked to the point of violence, he's more likely to lash out physically than raise his voice, and he's really most likely to communicate his feelings with a cutting remark or the raise of a brow.

Probably the single most important thing to know about Simon, though, is that he is 100% a True Believer. He's a proud member of the Undead Liberation Army and a disciple of the Church of the Undead Prophet, and he is involved with both of these (which are sort of separate but deeply intertwined movements) because he genuinely, truly, and very deeply believes in their message. The undead, or the Redeemed in his parlance, are his family, his flock. They are to be protected and nurtured at just about any cost to the living. He doesn't actively advocate hurting the living, but he certainly doesn't feel much sympathy for most of them. The living are essentially an inconvenience at best; the dead are beautiful.

Part of the reason for his intense commitment is that he feels that being resurrected gave him a new lease on life. Before his death, he felt that life was meaningless and he more or less spent all his time, in his own words, "getting fucked up beyond belief." As a lab rat for the creation of neurotriptyline, his life had a purpose and a meaning, but was still deeply miserable. Now, free of mortality and illness and free of living society, embraced by the undead community, he feels cleansed and born anew to a world of possibility.

Canon implies that he is also simultaneously a fairly serious Christian (probably Irish Catholic), having taken the Bible and applied it (possibly somewhat selectively) to himself and the ULA. He prays, quotes Corinthians and Revelation liberally, and really does seem to believe that the Redeemed are just that: God's chosen vessel of human redemption. Similarly, he believes that bringing on another Rising and creating more Redeemed will help them inherit their proper place in the world.

Although Simon is definitely a fanatic, he is not completely unmalleable. Kieren is the best example of this. It's not only that Simon is physically attracted to Kieren: something about Kieren's spirit and compassion, the odd contradiction in him of depression and hope, feel unique to Simon and draw him to Kieren almost despite himself. Kieren even gets him to relax on some of his strongest convictions: he reluctantly wears makeup and goes to Sunday lunch at Kieren's house because Kieren asks him to. Of course, most important of all is that he winds up refusing to carry out his sacred mission because it would require killing Kieren. As important as the second Rising is to Simon, protecting Kieren is even moreso.

Barge Reactions: Simon will really enjoy certain aspects of the Barge. He'll like that there are other undead around and that they don't seem to feel any need to hide, and he'll like that this seems to be a place where people judge based on character rather than appearance. That said, he's not particularly warm or friendly with living humans and he'll probably gravitate more towards the undead and non-human characters unless very actively and positively engaged by the living (or unless Kieren really, really wants him to).

He may also have very mixed feelings when he finds out that all (or most) inmates have died: he'll be both uncertain (because they're still mostly in functionally 'alive' bodies and may not even remember their deaths or resurrections) and also a little angry/protective (because they're undead and trapped on the Barge).

Deal: To bring about the Second Rising without harming Kieren.

History: [CW: depression and drug use, human experimentation, cannibalism?] Simon Monroe was born in Ireland in 1982 and at some undetermined point moved to northern England with his family. Other than that, nothing remarkable is known about Simon's pre-death history, save that he was deeply depressed for the majority of his life. Untreated by medicine, he eventually started to self-medicate with "the a to z of the periodic table," believing life was meaningless and it didn't matter what he did to his body. At times, he did try healthier means of improving his life, such as moving to the US, but as soon as the shine wore off the apple he was always back to more of the same. In 2009, at the age of 27, he overdosed on an unknown drug (he literally does not seem to remember what) and died.

It was the best thing that could have happened to him.

But not at first. The same year he died, the dead rose en masse from the grave as rabid corpses in an event widely called The Rising. In his mindless state, Simon attacked his own home and killed and likely ate his own mother, although his father escaped. Eventually, Simon was captured and taken to the lab of Victor Halperin and John Weston, two doctors who were attempting to create a drug that could subdue or even cure the undead. Simon was the first to respond to their treatment and "wake up" again. He agreed to become a test subject in order to be fully cured and was subjected to an intense series of experiments, including electroshock and spinal surgery. As more of the undead began to wake up, one of them hijacked the lab's PA system at regular intervals, claiming to be a prophet and broadcasting messages of undead pride. Simon ignored these at first, even when another undead (now being called "Partially Deceased Syndrome sufferers"), Julian, tried to recruit him into the "Prophet's" growing congregation.

However, as part of his treatment, Simon was forced to see his father again, at which time he learned that his mother was dead and began to suspect the reason why. Soon after, he decided to reject the experiments and leave the center. He moved in with his father, who tried not to blame Simon, but ultimately couldn't handle what he had done and kicked him out of the house. Simon fled into the night and called Julian up. He was welcomed into the Prophet's church with open arms as his 12th and last disciple.

The church adopted the name of the Undead Liberation Army and focused on freeing the undead from the burdens and expectations of the living society they were being forced to reintegrate into. In this community, Simon truly found a family and a new lease on life. He became a zealous disciple and was eventually given a critical mission: to help bring about a second Rising, one of the ULA's most important goals. As the first Rising was widely believed to have started in the tiny village of Roarton, Simon was sent there with one of its undead citizens, Amy Dyer, and told to seek out the very first undead to awake during the original Rising.

While in Roarton, Amy introduced Simon to her "Best Dead Friend Forever," Kieren Walker, whom Simon soon kindled a relationship with. Not long after, Simon realized that Kieren was also the First Risen he had been searching for. However, when he told the Prophet, he was sent a chilling command in return: to bring about the second Rising, he would have to sacrifice Kieren on 12/12 at 12 PM in the Roarton cemetery. Despite being truly agonized over the order, Simon still planned to go through with it -- but he changed his mind at the last minute and even ended up jumping in front of a bullet to protect Kieren, although he could not save Amy from being killed on the same day. Branded a traitor to the movement, he decided to stay in Roarton with Kieren and help protect him from further attacks.

Sample Journal Entry: Link
Sample RP: Link

Special Notes:


irishrotter: (Default)
Simon Monroe

May 2015

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