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[RPC O] Word Hurdles [Closed]

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[RPC O] Word Hurdles [Closed]

Post by Sammy » Thu Jul 26, 2018 9:32 am

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You performed well in the first of your sprints (for the most part) but surely anyone can move quickly across a flat, even surface? This time we want to see how you perform when you have a number of more obvious obstacles to contend with. Can you maintain those high speeds while being forced to leap, duck or dodge?


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For this challenge you are required to write at least 500 words in any format and on any theme so you desire. Sounds easy, doesn't it? Well I'm afraid there is a catch. Your entry must include each of the following words at least once:

Mercurial
Book
Cajole
Natural
Glass
Insipid
Elm
Obscene
Spray
Behemoth

And, you must pick at least one of these words to use as well:

Transmogrify
Lambaste
Halcyon
Pugnacious
Lucubration

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  • All entries must be submitted by 15th August.
  • You must use every word in the first list at least once.
  • You must also include at least one word from the second list.
  • Please bold and underline the words in the list so that it is easy for judges to identify that you have used all of them.

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As with all of our Olympic events, every competitor will net themselves an Olympian title until mid-September - except for our top three, who earn an exclusive Gold, Silver or Bronze Medalist title depending on where they place. Oh, and lets not forget, a much needed medal for your team!
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Re: [RPC O] Word Hurdles [Open - 15th August]

Post by Glassdoor » Fri Jul 27, 2018 10:11 am

The first explosion woke Gilendrel up, the second one made her jump out of her comfy bed and look out her bedroom’s hollow. The village was still dark, the moon was hung high up in the sky, cicadas were chirping and… Of course. Kastan’s tree was shaking violently and emitting a range of colored lights. More and more elves looked out their homes built within ancient, giant oaks, watching their village’s only assigned inventor doing what he did best. The elf groaned and rubbed her eyes. If Kastan was working, it was only a matter of time until the whole village woke up. And knowing the crazy scientist, it was very likely that the noises would not end until sunrise. Gilendrel sighed heavily and headed towards the one place that every elf in the village could count on during such emergencies.


The bartender whistled happily, wiping the counter. Traffic in “The Elm Crown” was booming, as it was every time the “inventartist” (name being one of the first useless things Kastan invented) sat down to his nightly activities. The reason for the inn’s popularity was the one and only remedy for this kind of situation- a glass of “Eternal Sleep”. This concoction has been a trade secret of the bartender, guaranteeing sound sleep for 12 hours which even loudest noises and greatest earthquakes could not interrupt. Of course, not everyone was allowed to treat themselves to this wondrous mixture (mostly those whose duties did not allow them to sleep for a dozen hours straight). For these elves the only option was either to try to sleep on their own, ignoring the noise, or sit in the “Crown” and throw curses and profanities at Kastan. Serbervil, village’s archer commander and Dirastarian, village’s main poet were a part of that group. “I shall not stand for any more indulgences of this imbecile’s mercurial lucubrations! Can thee not lambaste the fool so that he ceases his obscene actions?!” Dirastran’s falsetto pierced the tavern’s patrons’ ears no worse than the constant, distant explosions. The darker mood the elf was in, the more archaic and rare words was he using.
“Oh, trust me, I’d love nothing else than to give Kastan a piece of my mind about his experiments.” Grumbled the archer. “However, he’s protected by the chief, ‘in case he somehow invents something useful’. Like last year’s militarised halcyons.”
“Mine soul sobs for the pitiful creatures till this day” whined the poet. “Oh, when was it that the halcyons fell to their fiery demise? Two suns after their creator hath breathed life into them?”
“Three. They were alive for 24 hours after the spontaneous combustion.” Sounded from the entrance. Both elves turned towards the door and greeted the newcomer, Gilendrel, by rising their glasses filled to the brim with ale.
“The worst part is, the halcyons were actually tame compared to his other experiments.” Gilendrel sighed, sitting next to the poet. “Remember when he tried to recreate the Ancient Behemoth using nothing but Phoenix’s feathers and nitroglycerin?”
“It’s hard to forget with the beautiful crater in the middle of the village.” Serbervil spat on the ground. “The idiot’s destroyed a perfect training ground.”
“He dareth call this art. Art!” Dirastran shuddered as if the mere thought disgusted him to the core. “Were our dear leader more pugnacious, our beautiful village would have most certainly been freed of those horrid nightly noises. Together with the audacious noisemaker.”
Gilendrel shook her head. “I don’t think his fierceness has anything to do with it. He’s just trying to suck up to the Inventors’ Circle to show them that we’re open minded enough to send a more competent inventor here.”
The poet sighed painfully. “Ah, our beloved leader. Ever cajoling, insipid oaf...”
“And if you think that his experimentations are bad already, you should see the costs he generates..” sighed Gilendrel. “He’s been the biggest pain in my ass ever since I started taking care of the village’s resources. And the old geezer doesn’t want to hear anything about it, of course… ‘Leave him be, it’s just a bit of noise every now and then.’ Easy for him to say, he lives in the deepest root of the oldest oak, he doesn’t hear shi-”
“Shhh!” The archer shushed his companions. “Can you hear that?”
Dirastarian frowned. “No, I cannot.” His face suddenly lightened up. “Wait, that means he-”
“The Elm’s Crown’s” door has been kicked open as a short, dirty individual jumped inside. “Friends! Great news, you’ll never guess what happened!”
“You’ll stop experimenting forever?” Arrived a guess from one of the patrons.
“You finally got kicked out of the village?” Asked another one.
“One of your experiments turned against you and now we’re talking to your ghost?”
“You’ve got the gold you owe me?”
Ignoring the snide remarks the inventartist pulled a small object out of his pocket, smiling triumphantly. “I have finished my greatest project yet.”
“I’m going to regret asking, but.. What does it do?” Gilendrel asked, cautiously getting as far away from the device as possible. “Oh, it’s simple! You just touch here, and the mana spray activates, and then it transmogrifies into...” He was cut off mid-sentence as his device made a high-pitched noise and exploded in the elf's face. “Huh” Kastan blinked. “Guess I should have done the ancient runes by the book… And laid off the sodium chloride… Oh, well, mistakes are only natural when it comes to grand experiments, don’t you agree?” Not waiting for an answer Kastan turned around and walked out the tavern’s door, announcing loudly: “Back to the drawing board, then!” The inn fell silent. Dirastarian slowly covered his face with his thin fingers and started sobbing quietly as Gilendrel hit her forehead repeatedly against the table. Serbervil quickly joined her. Soon, the rhythmic ‘thud, thud, thud’ was drowned by the series of explosions and other loud noises.

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Re: [RPC O] Word Hurdles [Open - 15th August]

Post by Darkblade » Thu Aug 02, 2018 10:39 pm

He had spent much of the early morning tracking this beast, a Behemoth according to the book. They were a new creature apparently, but then the new world had been filled with strange monsters from the get go. So another new one was hardly a surprise to the hunter, the fact they suggested he hunt with a team was. His mercurial personality did not play well with others, and they hunter’s guild knew that. So to suggest it was laughable, even if it suggested this thing was supposedly beyond his talents. Something he was going to prove them wrong on, then lambaste them for doubting his talents.

The footprints were sizeable, as were fallen elm trees. Nothing he hadn’t seen before, an Anjanath could do that and worse. It walked on four legs, but it’s midriff did not scrap across the ground. So not any relation to a Jagras, shame as he knew how to kill those with relative ease. The sun was nearing it’s full height when he found it, and he was gobsmacked by it’s size. More akin to an elder dragon in it’s size, massive horns protruding from it’s head. Beneath it’s skin he could clearly see it’s muscles bunch up as it walked along upon feet with claws the size of daggers.

Looking at the drawing in the book then at the behemoth that was now spraying it’s scent onto a massive elm tree, he sighed. He was going to lambaste a certain someone for this, only natural considering how obscene their estimations of the creature’s size were off by. Well there was nothing for it, drawing his weapon, a sword of rather obscene size. It was the only way to deal with monsters of such size, well one of the ways, the way he was best suited to using anyway.

Charging the behemoth he swung his blade in a devastating arc, hoping to shatter it’s massive femur like glass. However it’s tail swung out and slapped him, sending him flying. Rolling around till he was able to return to his feet, well so much for the easy way. It turned away and began to walk away, rather insipid for a beast that had been terrorising the area. But considering how the book suggested a mercurial nature, it was not the most surprising aspect of this creature.

“Where do you think you’re going!”

Seeking to cajole the beast to remain, as he rather not have to track it down all over again. Though he might’ve been better off getting some fellow hunters, as this might not be the smartest idea he ever had. It didn’t even react, which only pissed him off, he was here to kill this beast and it was walking around like he was some annoying bug. Once again he charged the behemoth, this time hitting home. It’s tail was no match for the edge of his blade, and less sliced off as it was torn off by the sheer weight of the weapon. Blood would spray out, splattering him and the elm trees around them. The beast turned and roared it’s saliva would spray him, further adding to the clean up job.

“Now let’s do this!”

The sun had long gone down, by the time he struck the final blow. The behemoth collapsing as the last beats of it’s heart sprayed blood from it’s numerous wounds. The hunter wasn’t in great shape himself, his sword broken, a large shard still in the beast’s breast. He dropped what remained, falling to his knees. He was laughing, a rasping savage sound, as it hurt his ribs to breath so deeply. Wiping the blood from his face with his right hand, while his left swung limply at his side.

“You owe me a sword you brute!”

The beast made no movements now, not even a shallow breath. It was truly dead, and with that, his mission was complete. Pulling out a small device he aimed it to the sky, pulling the trigger a mote of light flew into the sky. It’s crimson hue bathing the area with it’s glow, that would bring the support team out of hiding. To carry this thing off for processing, and drag him off to get some well needed rest. He hoped they would have at least something good to eat, as he wasn’t in the mood for an insipid gruel.

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Re: [RPC O] Word Hurdles [Open - 15th August]

Post by McGenty » Sat Aug 04, 2018 12:36 am

BEHOLD!
Remiel’s scowl deepened as he held the ancient book and squinted at the worn page, only inches from his face. He had already failed in this endeavor seven times, and it was only the first step in his grand plan. Having reread the spell yet again, he waved a finger and muttered the last lines of the incantation. There was a flash of arcane energy, followed by a much less impressive puff of acrid smoke, and then…nothing.

“Bother all of this!” he groused, barely containing the urge to hurl the volume against the wall. Had it not been his only avenue to returning to the halcyon days from which he’d been so repugnantly cast into this miserable era, he very well may have burned it to ash on the spot. Still, his better judgement overcame his mercurial nature, at least in this instance, and he elected to simply lay the volume down for a moment to collect himself.

“Perhaps some fresh air…” the mage muttered as he collected his cloak and stepped from his hastily constructed laboratory out into the crisp autumn air. He took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes, and exhaled slowly, watching the fog from his breath drift away on the morning wind and break against the trunk of the ancient elm beneath which he had built his – hopefully – temporary home. It would certainly have been more prudent to locate himself nearer a city, where information and resources would be more readily available, but he simply could not abide the insipid culture of this era. Try as he might to adapt, the people of this fallen time were obscene to his refined senses. Even the most pugnacious of his mercenary band would find the customs of these, their long distant descendants, offensive to the core.

Even if the people had been tolerable, Remiel simply could not abide dwelling among them. Their so-called city was but a pitiful hovel compared with the graceful engineering of his own time. These people forced nature aside, flattening everything and laying their own unsightly behemoth structures of artificial stone and glass over it all. He was used to cities that flowed with the landscape, blending the natural and artificial so seamlessly that one may not even notice a population center was present until he was directly in the middle of it.

With a heavy sigh, the former archmage rubbed at his eyes and resigned to go back to work. He had never been one given to lucubration – the more scientific avenues of magic had always been Draelius’ forte’. His powers, before their ruination, had always been more instinctive. Having to cajole his decidedly non-scholarly nature into this level of study and rumination was almost more than he could bear. Still, he could not allow himself to give up. He could almost hear the voice of his co-commanders scolding him should he even consider giving up. Elias, in particular, would lambaste him into oblivion at the mere mention of surrender, regardless of the situation or chances of success.

So, he returned to the laboratory, taking a moment to enjoy the cool spray of a sudden morning shower on his face before stepping inside and opening that accursed tome once again. He would get home, by whatever means necessary. This tedium was but a temporary precursor to much greater things. After all, a man couldn’t be expected to tear a hole in the fabric of reality and traverse time and space on an empty stomach, could he?

He pulled the volume close and read aloud in the lamplight:

“To transmogrify clean, potable water into fine wine, begin with the following ingredients…”
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Re: [RPC O] Word Hurdles [Open - 15th August]

Post by Sammy » Mon Aug 06, 2018 7:54 pm

You guys have just over a week to go on this one.
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Re: [RPC O] Word Hurdles [Open - 15th August]

Post by Georgeanna » Sat Aug 11, 2018 4:09 am

A Curious Reflection
“Why don’t you tell me what happened, in your own words?”

Silence exudes from the space as I sit across from the investigator, only broken by his query. How to even begin? Where to start? The light above us filters down with an insipid glow, dully illuminating the metal table and chairs. The object in question lay between us. My finger swirls in circle patterns, leaving a trail of touch on the cool metallic surface. What to say? What to say?

“Tell me, sir, what sort of reflection do you have?” His eyes narrow. “Surely, if I’m to answer all of your questions, you can answer one of mine,” I coax. I hear my voice bounce off of the walls, turning over itself and echoing back in a symphony of sound. He continues to regard me with a cold glance, and I smile back, undeterred. I suppose it is only natural in situations like these to be suspicious.

Someone else mutters at him; I can hear the slight buzz of his radio as they speak.

“I see myself, I suppose,” he finally answers.

“Very disappointing,” I muse, looking at the designs I’ve drawn with my hands. Only so much time to waste though, he likely would be losing any sort of patience sooner rather than later.

“What happened that night in August?”

My focus softens, and a disgruntled sigh escapes my lungs. “Steven, please. I can’t very well start at the end of the story, now can I?”

The soft click of a tape recorder greets my ears as I inhale and begin to speak.
That is all that you wish me to do, isn’t it? To sit here and to tell you what happened on August 8th quickly and for it all to be over. I did try to close this investigation, you know, but they said something about giving an official statement, so here I am—Oh, don’t look at me that way! It’s not as bad as all of that gossip that I’ve heard floating around. There is no behemoth of a secret waiting to be found in my testimony. It’s as simple as… well I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?

It was a beautiful day, as I’m sure you noticed. Not the eighth, of course. It is the fifth of August that I’m referring to. I can still hear the clink of coins in my wallet, the murmuring of vendors trying to cajole their clients into paying a higher price, and the soft whisper of falling of leaves. Fall at its finest, some might say. And that outdoor market is where I found it. A simple trinket that I bought, lay carefully in a paper bag, and toted home with me. It was gorgeous too, ornate in design, yet uncluttered with unnecessary gaudiness. The handle fit right into the palm of my hand, the metallic vines that twisted up leaving soft impressions in my soft skin. I can remember why I bought it, too—it reminded me of a tree, arching over itself into a loop. Maybe like a willow, or like an elm? Its branches softly bending to accommodate the oval of glass that sat within the frame. See? Nothing obscene or shocking about a simple mirror. Please do try to relax.

Anyway, I remember setting it down carefully on my bedside table, glass up so as it wouldn’t get scratched against the wood. Never can be too careful with heirlooms. Sometimes I like to think of them like…ancestors of sorts. These small bits and baubles have seen so much more than I ever have. They’ve witnessed successes, failures, joy, sadness, triumphs, and horrors unlike any I’ve ever known, but they’re willing enough to tell their stories to the right person. I suppose rather like me.

It wasn’t until that evening that I thought something might be slightly amiss. I had lay down in my bed, the soft lull of sleep slowly claiming my mind and washing away all the stress. Eyes closed, I reached out to touch the frame one last time before drifting off, more just to reassure myself that I had successfully acquired this treasure than anything. I felt my fingers brush what felt like the entire back of the mirror, the design never giving way to the smoothness of the actual reflective surface. I could have sworn, as I did earlier just now, that I had set it glass up. I would never have wanted that to have been damaged by a slight shift in the night, or by my own clumsiness.
But, perhaps, I had thought, I had mindlessly moved it when I was getting into bed as to avoid knocking it over, and simply wasn’t careful about how I set it back down.

I see your expression. Don’t worry, though. The mirror didn’t transmogrify overnight. In fact, it was quiet for the next two nights. It wasn’t until August 8th that it decided to move again.

I will skip over those two days, to save you the trouble. You truly look as if you’ve seen a spirit of some kind. I do apologize. Perhaps take a sip of water?

Anyway, the curious, little thing didn’t do much of anything for the next few days, aside from reflect of course. Though sometimes, I swore it showed me glimpses of things. Not anything that I could see in real life, but things I had only ever talked about. Glimpses of mountains, of passed family members, so subtle I wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light upon the glass or if it was just a figment of my imagination. Maybe it heard me, learned about me in those few days. Do you think it can hear me now? So silly, isn’t it? We created things that watch us all the time and yet expect them not to remember what they’ve observed…

It was around seven, I want to say, that I decided to really inspect it. I traced the outline of the pattern, I gazed at the glass, smelled the metallic odor, and heard the solid noise it made when lightly tapped. Nothing about it was remarkable, but it did that thing again, that tricky little shift of the image until I saw something that shouldn’t have been there. I began to regard it a bit more carefully that evening, convinced some mercurial prankster must be controlling the mirror from outside, one moment content with me just being suspicious and the next determined to frighten me.

I had left it in my bedroom that night, and was reading in the front room around midnight. I was rather unsettled by my purchase and resolved, with a soft thud of closing my novel, that I was going to get rid of the mirror the next morning. As I set down my book, the paperback making a soft shifting noise as it settled on the coffee table, I heard a second, louder noise. A rattling resounded through the hallway. Wasting no time, I cautiously grabbed the lamp, unplugging it as I went, and crept towards the source. The lampshade made its own shaking noise, provoked by my unsteady hand, but I supposed that anyone that would be breaking into my house surely would know I was there, in any case. That and I was too focused and anxious to care.

I remember breathing so quickly that I felt the blood rush in my ears. The roar became so loud I could barely hear the original disturbance. Tiptoeing the last length, I peered in my bedroom and was met with a ghostly glow emanating from the mirror, the frame rattling on the side table as if a demon had taken over the small contraption. My eyes widened, but I didn’t scream. Not yet. I got closer to the mirror and saw the shining light was coming from the middle, brighter than just about anything. Yes, yes, then I screamed and, if memory serves, I fainted. But after you and all the paramedics left, it was then that I saw the small light bulb behind the glass. Seems like it was just a joke mirror after all.

Oh, please. Would you stop blubbering like someone killed your cat? I screamed in the middle of the night and someone called the police and now no one will believe that I was just truly scared by a practical joke. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to take my mirror and go.


The investigator sat, stunned, watching the old woman leave, the mirror clutched in her arms like a baby. He technically couldn’t keep her here; she hadn’t done anything wrong. There was just such a shift in her behavior. He remembered that night, helping her off of the floor, her gaze confused and disorientated. She had claimed that she fainted, musing about reflections and all sorts of outlandish things. The fact of the matter was, she had petitioned for them to investigate in the first place. But just now, she had acted as if he was the nuisance. Like he was prying on personal affairs that he had no interest in and that this was all a big misunderstanding. Steven wasn’t so sure if he believed that that was the case.

And, for another thing, there had been no light bulb. He had had his team thoroughly inspect the object the following day, after hearing the victim mumble for hours about terrifying images and sounds. She had turned it in herself the morning of the ninth, still muttering about ghosts and mirror people, but nothing about an LED. Yet, it stood up to every test and proved itself to be nothing more than an ordinary mirror. Maybe the least bit marred by what appeared the be the work of a stray can of gold spray paint on one side, but otherwise a fully intact and normal object. So why lie? She must've realized that he knew she was not speaking truthfully. Sometime, within the time that he had returned her mirror yesterday afternoon, and when she came in for questioning today, there had been a change.

But the most unsettling of all was the way her eyes seemed to glint towards the end of their discussion. It was as if a second sheen had spread across them, almost like two small mirrors, reflecting Steven’s fear back at him.
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Re: [RPC O] Word Hurdles [Open - 15th August]

Post by TwisterZaraku » Sat Aug 11, 2018 10:33 am

Twista-Z wrote:



















LIVING WITH SIN
Pilot Script





Written by
Twista-Z















FIRST DRAFT
AUGUST 10, 2018

© 2018 Roleplay Collective, Inc.
This script is the property of Roleplay Collective Inc., RPCO, RPC, and its affliates. No portion
of this script may be performed, reproduced, or used by any means, or disclosed to, quoted
or pulished in any medium without the prior written consent of Roleplay Collective Inc.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------


Author's Note
This script is meant to be read on the computer. There's a lot of coding that doesn't quite do well
on mobile devices. Thanks! Hope you enjoy! And sorry about the length.. =/
1.


ACT ONE

COLD OPENING // SCENE A

FADE IN:

INT. PHARISEE PUBLISHING JOHN CASSIAN'S OFFICE - DAY (DAY 1)
  (John Cassian, Mr. Celestine, Voice-Over John, Joan Arkansas, Luther Martin)

WE OPEN ON JOHN CASSIAN, AN IVY-LEAGUE CREATIVE WRITER, A MASTER
AT PEN AND PAPER. HE SITS FASTIDIOUSLY AT AN ORGANIZED DESK, HIS HAND
SCRIBBLING WITH PRECISION OVER STACKS OF PAPER.  HE SEEMS TO BE 
ENJOYING HIMSELF, UNTIL HIS BOSS, MR. CELESTINE, BARGES INTO THE OFFICE 
TO SLAM DOWN A NEW STACK OF UNMARKED PAPERS.

MR. CELESTINE
Mr.  Cassian!  I  need  this  outlined  and  edited
by  three  o'  clock!

JOHN
Surely  you're  just being  facetious,  I'm  still
behind  on  the  last  book  you  gave  me!

MR. CELESTINE
Are  you  implying  I  pay  you  too  much?  I 
have  been  considering  lowering  your  salary
for  some  time,  now...

JOHN
Of-of  course  not,  sir!  I'll  get  it  done  by
three!  Of  course  I  will!

MR. CELESTINE
That's  the  gung-ho  attitude  we  like  to  
see  here  at  Pharisee  Publishing,  Mr. 
Cassian!  If  you  keep  up  that  spirit, the 
choice  for  Chief  Editor  will  be  easier 
than  I  thought!

CAMERA PANS IN ON JOHN'S FACE, WHO IS MONOLGING HIS INTERNAL
THOUGHTS ABOUT THE SITUATION WITH A DISSATISFIED LOOK ON HIS FACE.

VOICE-OVER JOHN
Let's  be  sure  of  one  thing;  there  was  no 
way  I  took  Mr.  Celestine  at  his  word.  If 
anything, I had  learned  to ignore his insipid
promises  by  now. Even then,  the  ignoramus 
was my  boss,  so  I  still  needed to entertain 
his   folly.   And  besides...  I'd  always  been 
terrible   at   dealing   with   conflict.
2.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/182.   (I/A)
JOHN RETURNS TO LOOK AT MR. CELESTINE WITH A FAKE SMILE ON HIS FACE.

JOHN
I'm  just  doing  my  part,  sir!  I'll  always do
my best to ensure this  company succeeds!

MR. CELESTINE
Oh? Really? Well! Since you're so enthusiastic 
about  editing...

MR. CELESTINE OPENS HIS BRIEFCASE AND DROPS OFF A FEW MORE UNBOUND 
BOOKS ATOP JOHN CASSIAN'S DESK.  

MR. CELESTINE (CONT'D)
I  have  a  few more  projects I  need  done!  
I  know  you  have  a full plate, so  I  won't 
expect them on my desk  by  three.

WHILE ANNOYED, JOHN STILL APPEARS RELIEVED.

JOHN
Oh, thank goodness, sir. For a moment I really 
thought you - - -

MR. CELESTINE
I simply need them on my desk by the morning.

JOHN
Ah...  Well,  I  will  certainly  do  my  best.

MR. CELESTINE
That's  what  I  like  to  hear!  I  will  see 
you  at  three,  Mr.  Cassian!


MR. CELESTINE EXITS SCENE THROUGH THE DOOR HE ENTERED.  JOHN SLUMPS 
DOWN INTO HIS CHAIR AND EXHALES IN DEFEAT.


VOICE-OVER JOHN
Well.  There  goes  plans  with Joan, again... 
That  will  be  date  number  six  cancelled 
this  month  alone.  Man,  she's  going  to  be  
bristled,  for  sure...


THERE'S A KNOCK ON JOHN'S DOOR AND ENTERS LUTHER.  HE LOOKS OVER HIS 
SHOULDER AS HE  ENTERS THE OFFICE THEN CLOSES THE DOOR BEHIND HIM.


3.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/183.   (I/A)

LUTHER
So...  Seems  like  you  had  a  meeting
with  Mr.  Celestine.   What  did  he  want?

JOHN
Oh.  Hey,  Luther. Not  much;  just  that he  
wanted  a  few  books  edited by  tomorrow
morning.

LUTHER
You  don't  say?

JOHN
Yyyyyup....

LUTHER
Hmmm..  Peculiar.  Peculiar,  indeed.

LUTHER TAKES AN OVER-COMFORTABLE SEAT ON JOHN'S DESK, PUSHING ASIDE
OBJECTS TO MAKE ROOM.  JOHN APPEARS IRRITATED, BUT SAYS NOTHING TO STOP 
HIM.  LUTHER BEGINS THUMBING THROUGH THE PAGES OF ONE OF THE BOOKS 
JOHN HADN'T GOTTEN TO YET.

LUTHER
It  possibly  has  something  to  do  with you
being  the  best  editor  in  the  company, I'll
bet.

JOHN
Oh,  come  on,  now.  I'm  not  much  better
than  you  are.

LUTHER
Your humbleness is admirable, John!

LUTHER RISES FROM THE DESK TO FACE JOHN.

LUTHER (CONT'D)
You're able to  manage  so much  with such little  
time.  Your  work  ethic  is  to  be  envied.  Not  
only  are  you  a  few  projects   ahead  of  me,  
but  you  also  have  Mr.   Celestine  himself  
handing you  extra projects!   You should take 
pride  in  your  accomplishments,  John.

VOICE-OVER JOHN
This,  was  classic  Luther.  He'd  always  acted  with
a  motive.  It  was  more  than  obvious  that  he  
was  just  cajoling  me,  but  what  can  I  
say?  I'm  a  sucker  for  compliments.

4.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/184.   (I/A)

JOHN
First   of   all,   you flatter me. And secondly,
maybe  I  could  take  a  look  at  your  book
for  you?  I'm sure  I could  find  time  to---

LUTHER
Really??  You  mean it??  Oh,  John,  I  knew  you
were  an  okay  guy!

LUTHER REACHES INTO HIS SATCHEL AND PLACES HIS BOOK, SIGNIFICANTLY GIRTHIER
THAN ANY OF JOHN'S BOOKS, DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF JOHN AND PURPOSEFULLY ATOP
THE BOOK HE WAS CURRENTLY EDITING

LUTHER (CONT'D)
If  you  could  make  sure  I  have  that  by 
three  you  would  be  an  absolute  life-saver!

JOHN
By  three?  But I---

LUTHER
I'll  be  back  at  three,  Champ!  You rock!

LUTHER LEAVES THE OFFICE THROUGH THE DOOR, TURNING AROUND TO GIVE A WINK
AND POINT A FINGER-GUN TO JOHN BEFORE CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND HIM. JOHN
APPEARS OVERWHELMED.

VOICE-OVER JOHN
Everyone  that  worked  here  was a snake.  I
already  knew  as  much,  but  it  was  more
than  abundantly  clear  to  me  that  day.
I  was  used  to  being  exploited  by  other
editors  here.  To  say  it  was  instinctual for
them  would  be  an  understatement.  Still..
people  who  live  in  glass  houses  shouldn't
throw  stones.  I  wouldn't  be  mined  for
opportunity  so  frequently  if  I  weren't
such  a  wet  blanket...  So  with  that,  I  
figured  then  was  the  best  time  to  call  
Joan  to  let  her  know  of  the "news".

JOHN PICKS UP A PHONE AND DIALS A NUMBER. SCREEN SPLITS IN HALF, JOAN APPEARS. 
SHE ANSWERS THE PHONE.

JOAN
Hello?

JOHN
Hello,  my  love,  my  sweet  my...  
inamorata!

5.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/185.   (I/A)

JOAN
Uh-oh.  When  you  start  using  the  big  
words,  I  know   something  is  wrong.

JOHN
Do  I  need  an  ulterior  motive?  Can  a
man  not  call  his  girlfriend  simply  due
to  him  missing  her?

JOAN
He  absolutely  can.  Is  that  really  why
you've  called,  though?

JOHN
.... yes?

JOAN
Let  me  guess...  'you  are  very  very 
VERY  sorry  and  absolutely  overflowing
with  penitence  but  you'll  need  to  go  
ahead  and  reschedule  our  date  because
you're  caught  up  with  a  project  at  work', 
does  that  sound  about  right?

JOHN
.... maybe?

JOAN
Of  course.  Of  course  that's  why  you've
called.  John  and  his  work.  It's  only  
natural  that  you've  blown  me  off  again
to  mark  up  some  books.

JOHN
Come  on,  Jujube,  I  can  make  it  up  to  
you!

JOAN
You've  promised  to  make  it  up  to  me
the  last  half  dozen  times,  now,  John!
Did  you  even  try  to  get  out  of  it,  this
time?

JOHN
Well..  I  mean..  You  know  how  I'm  trying
to  get  to  Chief  Editor.  I  have  to  accept
any  extra  books  that  come  my  way.

JOAN
Yeah.  I'm  starting  to  get  it.  You  can't  say
no  to  a  book  but  you  can  say  no  to  me.

6.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/186.   (I/A)

JOHN
Oh  come  on,  that's  not---

JOAN
You  know,  John,  I'm  just  tired  of  waiting
for  you  to  have  time  for  me.  Give  me  a
call  when  you  find  some.

JOAN HANGS UP THE PHONE AND LEAVES JOHN LISTENING TO A DIAL TONE. SLOWLY, 
JOHN FOLLOWS SUIT AND HANGS UP AFTER A MOMENT.  HE LEANS BACK IN HIS CHAIR.

VOICE-OVER JOHN
At  that  point,  I  had  realized  my
relationship  with  Joan  was  pretty  much
over.  So,  I  figured  it  would  at  least  be
better  if  someone  at  all  was  happy  with
me.  So  I  got  to  work  on  Luther's  book.

DISSOLVE TO:

A FEW HOURS PASS, IT'S 2:45.  ENTER LUTHER THROUGH JOHN'S OFFICE
DOOR.

LUTHER
Knock,  knock!  Do  you  have  that  book  for 
me?


JOHN
I  had  actually  finished  just  before  you  
walked  in.  "The  Nightmare  on  Elm  Street - 
The Musical:  The  Screenplay  Adaptation - 
A  Novelization."  It's  quite  the  title.  

LUTHER
Tell  me  about  it.   The  title  is  part  of
the  reason  why I  hadn't  quite  gotten  to
the  book.  But  something  told  me  you  
would  have  no  problem  knocking  it  out,  
you  slugger.

JOHN
Not  only  that,  I  was  also  able  to  finish
my  particular  venture,  as  well.

7.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/187.   (I/A)

LUTHER
You  see?  That's  why  I've  always  said  
you're  the  best  editor  at  Pharisee!

JOHN
Well,  I'm  just  glad  I  was  able  to  help.
You  know,  Luther,  you've  always  been  a
motivation  for  me  to  strive  and ---

CAMERA PANS OUT TO REVEAL LUTHER HAD ALREADY LEFT THROUGH THE DOOR. JOHN 
SHRUGS AND RETURNS TO HIS OTHER BOOK, SINCE HE PLANNED TO BE  THERE FOR SOME.  
A FEW MOMENTS LATER, EXCITEMENT IS HEARD IN THE LOBBY.  JOHN LOOKS TOWARDS 
HIS DOOR, THEN GETS UP, AND EXITS OFFICE.

RESET TO:

INT. PHARISEE PUBLISHING LOBBY - DAY [CONTINUOUS]

WE ENTER A COMMON AREA IN THE OFFICE WHERE ALL OTHER PERSONAL OFFICES
CONVERGE AND MEET.  IN THE CENTER OF THE ROOM, MR. CELESTINE AND LUTHER
STAND SURROUNDED BY ADMIRING COLLEAGUES AS MR. CELESTINE READIES AN
ANNOUNCEMENT. JOHN HOVERS NEAR THE BACK.

MR. CELESTINE
Everyone!  Everyone!  I'm  sure  by  now  
you've  all  heard  about  the  hunt  for
a  Chief  Editor!  Well,  I'm  pleased  to
announce  that  the  hunt  is  over!  We
have  found  our  new  Editor-in-Chief!

MUSIC CUE:  ACOUSTIC DRUMROLL
MUSIC CUE:  END DRUMROLL

MR. CELESTINE
Mr. Martin!!!  Congratulations!

EXTRAS APPLAUD AS LUTHER STEPS FORWARD AND STEPS UP WITH MR. CELESTINE.
LUTHER WAVES HIS HAND, SOAKING IN THE CHEERS AND COMPLIMENTS FROM HIS 
PEERS. CAMERA PANS IN ON JOHN WHO LOOKS DEVASTATED.

LUTHER
Thank  you!  Thank  you!  You're  all  too
kind! It  just  feels  nice  getting  some
recognition  after  I'd  just  tackled  this
"Nightmare  on  Elm  Street"  monster.
Honestly,  it  was  quite  the  behemoth.
But  thank  you,  gang!  I  couldn't  do  it
without...  well  without  me,  really!

8.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/188.   (I/A)

VOICE-OVER JOHN
I  couldn't  have  said  I  was  surprised  by
Luther's  deceit,  but  the  cut  still  stung.
Regardless,  at  the  end  of  the  day,  I
was  the  only  one  to  blame.  Because  
of  my  inability  to  stand  firm,  I  wound
up  overworked,  taken  advantage  of,
without  a  promotion  and  single.  The
joys  of  being  an  editor...

SOUND CUE:  CAR ALARM IN THE DISTANCE

JOHN LOOKS TO HIS OFFICE, THE SOURCE OF THE CAR ALARM. HE RUNS INTO THE
ROOM AND LOOKS OUT HIS WINDOW, LOCATED ON THE THIRD STORY OF AN OFFICE
BUILDING, AND SEES HIS CAR ON THE STREET.  TWO TEENAGERS HAVE JACKED THE
BEAT-DOWN VEHICLE AND STOLEN TWO OF HIS TIRES.  JOHN SWINGS THE WINDOW
OPEN THEN SHOUTS OUTSIDE.

JOHN
Hey!  What  are  you  kids  doing?  That's
my  car!

THE TEENAGERS RUN OFF DOWN THE STREET WITH THE TIRES AFTER SEEING JOHN.
JOHN WATCHES AS THEY GO, POWERLESS TO STOP THEM. HE HEAVES AND SINKS IN HIS
CHAIR.  HE LOOKS AT THE SIX BOOKS HE NEEDS TO HAVE FINISHED BY THE MORNING.

JOHN (CONT'D)
It's  going  to  be  a  long  night...

FADE OUT.
END OF SCENE A











9.
LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/189.   (I/B)




ACT ONE
SCENE B
FADE IN:

INT. JOHN CASSIAN'S HOUSE - NIGHT 1 [CONTINUOUS]
 (John Cassian, Envy, Greed, Lust, Sloth, Gluttony, Pride, Wrath)

CAMERAS FADE IN ON THE FRONT OF AN OLD VICTORIAN HOME. IT IS THE HOME
OF JOHN CASSIAN, HANDED DOWN WITHIN THE FAMILY. IT'S A LARGE ESTATE THOUGH
THE LIGHTS ARE OFF AND IT FEELS EMPTY. JOHN WALKS UP TO THE DOOR TO OPEN IT.
HE FOLLOWS INSIDE. 

LIGHT CUE:  FRONT LOBBY. 

INSIDE HE SEES NO ONE. THEN HE CLOSES THE DOOR, TURNS AROUND, AND SEES
ENVY DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF HIM. 

ENVY
Boo.

JOHN SCREAMS.

JOHN
Jesus!  Mary!  And  Joseph!  You  scared
the  shit  out  of  me,  Envy! 

ENVY
Sorry, Johnny!  I  just  can't  help  myself
when  you  come  home  after  a  long
day  out  and  about!  I  missed  you!  It
makes  me  sad  when  you  spend  your
whole  day  without  me.

JOHN TAKES HIS COAT AND SHOES OFF.

JOHN
Trust  me,  you  wouldn't  be  jealous  of
my  day  if  you  knew  the  kind  I'd  had...

ENVY
Would  you  like  to  make  a  bet?

LUST (OFF SCREEN)
Oh,  V,  darling,  must  you  always  be  so  
needy? 

10.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1810.   (I/B)

THE CAMERA PANS OUT TO REVEAL THE DOWNSTAIRS SUDDENLY LIT UP, AS THOUGH
JOHN HADN'T NOTICED BEFORE.  EACH SPACE IS OCCUPIED BY A DIFFERENT ROOM-
MATE.  LUST IS ON THE COUCH, ENJOYING A GLASS OF CHARDONNAY AND READING 
A BOOK, "The Time In Between". SLOTH LAYS ACROSS FROM HER, APPARENTLY ASLEEP 
ON ANOTHER SOFA. GREED AND PRIDE ARE BOTH IN THE BACK LIVING 
ROOM PLAYING VIDEO GAMES ON A WIDESCREEN. CLANKS AND SOUNDS OF CLOSING 
CABINETS CAN BE HEARD FROM THE KITCHEN, IMPLYING GLUTTONY IS BUSY COOKING. 
SOUNDS OF SINGING COME FROM THE KITCHEN.

LUST (CONT'D)
The  man  just  walked  through  the  
door.  At  least  let  him  breathe  
before  you  berate  him.

ENVY
I'm not needy...

ENVY SADLY SLINKS AWAY. JOHN IGNORES HER AND TAKES A SEAT ON AN EMPTY 
RECLINER IN THE SAME ROOM AS LUST.  JOHN RUBS HIS TEMPLES.  LUST OFFERS 
A GLASS OF WINE TO HIM, WHICH HE HAPPILY TAKES.

LUST
Long  day,  sweetie?

JOHN
Yes.  That  would  be  a  grave  understatement.

JOHN TAKES A SIP FROM HIS GLASS.  LUST LEANS ON HER PALM, CURIOUS TO THE
STORY OF HIS DAY.

LUST
Well,  don't  hold  it  in;  color  me  with  
details.

PRIDE (OFF SCREEN)
Hey!  John's  home!

LUST ROLLS HER EYES AS PRIDE COMES RUNNING INTO THE ROOM. HE'S SMILING 
WIDELY. GREED STROLLS IN CLOSE BEHIND.

PRIDE
Welcome  home,  bud!  You're  home  awfully
late!  Long  day?

LUST
We  had  already  covered  that.  If  you  two
paid  any  attention  to  something  other  
than trying  to  get  the  high  score...

11.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1811.   (I/B)

PRIDE
Hey!  I'll  have  you  know  Greed  and  I  have
been  busting  our  asses  to  try  and  prestige
and  we're  pretty  damn  close!

LUST
"Prestige"?  What,  have  you  amassed  a 
following?

PRIDE
For  your  information,  yes,  I  have  --  one  of
the  fastest  growing  streams  in  the  States,
I'll  have  you  know.  And  secondly,  that's  what
you  do  in  games,  now,  Lust.  No  one  gets
"high  scores"  anymore. 

LUST
There  are  not  enough  words  to  convey  to
you  how  little  I  care.

PRIDE
What??  You're  the  one  that  asked!!

ENVY
Are  you  two  done?  Can  we  get  back  to  John's
day  and  why  he  stayed  out  so  long?

ENVY, PRIDE, AND LUST TURN TO LOOK AT JOHN, WHO HAS BEEN SIPPING WINE 
IN SILENCE. GREED SPEAKS FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM, HAVING BEEN 
LOOKING OUTSIDE.

GREED
Hey,  John.  Where's  your  car,  man?

JOHN SIGHS HEAVILY AND THROWS HIS HEAD BACK AGAINST THE REST.

JOHN
That's  part  of  the  reason  I  was  out  so  late. 
A  couple  of  hooligan's  boosted  my  tires,  today.
I  had  to  take  the  bus  home.

ENVY, GREED, LUST AND PRIDE REACT TO THE NEWS. JOHN PUCKERS HIS LIPS AND 
NODS.

12.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1812.   (I/B)

PRIDE
No  way!  You  had  JUST  detailed  it  last
Tuesday!

JOHN
I know.

PRIDE
I  mean,  the  reason  you're  working  so  hard  is
because  you're  paying  off  your  loans  and  that
damned  car!

JOHN
I know.

PRIDE
Wow.  Why  do  bad  people  always  try  to  hurt
the  good  ones?

GREED
You  see,  man.  If  you  had  just  upgraded  to  
the additional  safety  features,  you  probably  
could have  avoided  this.  This  is  why  I  tell  you,  
you should  bring  me  when  you  shop  for  cars.

ENVY
At  least  he  still  has  a  car...  It  could  be  worse.
He  could  be  stuck  in  the  house  all  day  without
a  way  to  hang  out  with  his  friends...

JOHN
That's  hardly  all  of  it,  too.

LUST
Oh, there's  more?  Do  tell,  John.

JOHN TAKES ANOTHER SIP OF WINE.

JOHN
Well.. for  starters,  I  didn't  get  the  promotion..

ENVY, PRIDE, LUST, AND GREED REACT.

LUST
Oh,  honey,  I'm  so  sorry. 


13.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1813.   (I/B)


PRIDE
No  way!  Are  you  serious??  You  didn't  get
Chief  Editor??

JOHN
Unfortunately,  not.

ENVY
Who  did?

JOHN SIGHS.  HE TAKES ANOTHER SIP, THEN CONTINUES.

JOHN
Just  go  ahead  and  take  a  guess.

LUST
I'll  bet  it  was  Luther.  That  man  just
oozes  dominance...

JOHN
Well,  you're  correct  in  that  it  was,
indeed,  Luther.

PRIDE
That's  bullshit.  You  totally  deserve  it
more  than  that  weasel.

ENVY
I  agree  with  Pride.  I  really  don't  like
that  guy,  from  what  you've  told  us
before.

GREED
Man.. I  bet  he  gets  a  bigger  office,  now,
too.  That  really  sucks  you  didn't  get  it.

PRIDE
Why  did  Celestine  choose  him  and  not 
you?

JOHN
Well... I  suppose  that's  where  I  had  messed
up.

PRIDE
Uh, oh...

14.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1814.   (I/B)


ENVY
What  did  you  do...?

JOHN
I  kinda... finished  editing  a  major  project
for  him  without  really  realizing  quite  how
paramount  it  was  and..  he... sorta  took
credit.

GREED
Wow.  Can't  say  I'm  surprised  he  took  that
opportunity.

PRIDE
I  can!!  That's  bullshit!  Did  you  tell  Celestine
that  it  was  your  work?

JOHN
No...  I  did  not.

LUST
Oh,  honey...

ENVY
Wait.  So  he  just  gets  what  you  earned?  And
you're  just  going  to  let  him  have  it?

PRIDE
Fuck  that.  You  take  what's  yours!  Go  into  that
office  and  just  spray  your  mark  all  over  it --
it  should  be  yours,  anyways.

JOHN SHAKES HIS HEAD AND TAKES ANOTHER SIP OF WINE.

JOHN
I  can't  go  in  there  and  just  have  a  conniption
fit.  It  will  just  look  like  I'm  throwing  a
tantrum  I  didn't  get  selected.

GREED
But  you've  wanted  it  for  so  long.  What's  the
point  of  all  that  extra  work  if  you're  just  going
to  let  him  take  it?

JOHN
I  don't  know..  you  know  I'm  not  very  pugnacioius
and  am  no  good  at  conflict..

15.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1815.   (I/B)

LUST
Oh,  believe  me:  we  all  remember  your  last  
big altercation  with  Wrath.

PRIDE
Hey,  come  on,  let's  not  mention  that.

JOHN STARTS SNIFFING THE AIR.

JOHN
Do  I  smell... Pasta?

GLUTTONY IS OFF-SCREEN IN THE KITCHEN.  SHE RESPONDS WITH A 
LIGHT SING-SONGY VOICE.

GLUTTONY [OFF-SCREEN]
Why, yes you do~!  Swiss  Chard  and  Lemon  Ricotta
Pasta~!  Your  favorite  meal  to  have  with  wine~!

JOHN
Aw,  hey,  Toni,  you  really  don't  have  to  do  that.

GLUTTONY [OFF-SCREEN]
Oh,  hush,  now~!  If  it  were  up  to  you,  you'd
only  be  eating  frozen  dinners.  Now  zip  it  and
let  your  friends  take  care  of  you  ~~  I've  been
listening  to  how  rough  your  day  was.

GLUTTONY GOES BACK TO SINGING AS THE COOKING CONTINUES.  JOHN SMILES AND 
LEANS BACK, FINISHING OFF HIS GLASS OF WINE. 

JOHN
Oh  my  --  this  wine  isn't  the  only  thing  that's
effervescent  anymore.

LUST LIFTS THE BOTTLE ON HER END TABLE.

LUST
Would  you  like  another  glass,  dear?

JOHN
Actually... Yes.  I  saved  the  worst  bit
for  the  climax.

LUST VISIBLY SHUDDERS WHILE REFILLING JOHN'S GLASS. ONCE DONE, SHE PUTS THE 
BOTTLE BACK ON HER END TABLE.

16.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1816.   (I/B)

LUST
My  absolute  favorite  part.

ENVY
You  mean  there's  actually  more?

JOHN
Yes.  There's  actually  more.

JOHN CHUGS THE ENTIRE GLASS IN ONE GULP. 

JOHN
Joan  ended  our  romantic  accord  today.

LUST
You  don't  say?

PRIDE
Wait... She  broke  up  with  YOU?!  Wow.

GREED
Eh.  I always  thought  he  could  do  better.

PRIDE
Well  of  course  he  could  do  better,  but
that's  not  the  point.  He  liked  that  one.

ENVY
I  never  really  saw  the  draw,  either.

JOHN
I'm  right  here,  you  guys.

LUST
John..  why  did  she  break  up  with  you?

JOHN
According  to  her,  it's  because  she  felt  like
I  never  made  time  for  her.

ENVY
I  can  relate...

LUST
Is  it  a  valid  complaint?  When  was  the  last
time  you  went  and  actually  spent  time  with
her?

17.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1817.   (I/B)

JOHN
I  saw  her  a  few  weeks  ago  and  I  read  her
one  of  the  books  I  was  editing.

LUST
Oh,  John...

JOHN APPEARS AGITATED AND GETS LOUD.

JOHN
What??

LUST
You  need  to  spend  quality  time  with  her.
Make  her  feel  like  you  want  her  more  than
you  want  a  book.  Women  like  to  feel  
needed,  longed  for...  you  need  to  make  her  
feel  special.

JOHN
How  in  the  world  am  I  supposed  to  figure  out
the  mercurial  dichotomy  that  is  the  female
psyche??  I'm  just  expected  to  deconstruct  the
dominant  hetero-patriarchial  paradigm  all  on  my
own  and  figure  this  out  without  communication?

PRIDE & ENVY & GREED
Woah.

LUST
Are  you  alright,  dear?

JOHN EXHALES AND SHAKES HIS HEAD. JOHN NODS.

JOHN
Yes,  yes,  I..  Sorry.  I  get  wordy  when  I  get 
flustered.

LUST
It's  quite  alright,  we  know  you've  had  rough day.

PRIDE
So  what  are  you  going  to  do  to  get  your  girl
back,  bud?

GREED
Yeah,  I  agree  with  Pride.  You  need  to  start
going  after  what's  yours.


18.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1818.   (I/B)

JOHN
I... I don't know.

SLOTH [OFF-SCREEN]
Maybe  it  wouldn't  be  a  bad  idea  to  take  some
time  off  work  to  focus  on  yourself.

JOHN, ENVY, LUST, GREED, AND PRIDE ALL LOOK AT THE COUCH SLOTH IS  LAYING 
ON. THEY LOOK SURPRISED. SLOTH LOOKS DISGRUNTLED.

ENVY
I've  got  to  be  honest,  I  really  thought  you
were  asleep.  Like  always.

SLOTH
How  can  anyone  sleep  when  a  bunch  of  people
are  having  a  full-blown  conversation  two  inches
away  from  where  they're  laying  their  head?

ENVY
In  fairness,  Sloth,  you're  always  sleeping.  We
just  get  used  to  operating  around  you.

SLOTH GRUMBLES BUT THEN ROLLS OVER. HE DECIDES IT'S NOT WORTH THE ENERGY TO
GET IN AN ARGUMENT WITH ENVY.

LUST
Perhaps  he's  right,  though.  Maybe  John  does
need  a  bit  of  a  break.

PRIDE
I  can  see  a  benefit  from  that.  It  feels  like
you're  sort  of  wasting  your  creative  writing
talents  by  slaving  away  at  an  editing  company.

GREED
Yeah,  man,  could  you  imagine  how  much  more
enriched  your  life  could  be  if  you  did  what
you  loved  doing  instead?

JOHN
I  don't  know... Writing  is  risky.  There's  no  money
in  it.  At  least  working  as  an  editor  has  security
behind  it.

LUST
A  secure  place  as  a  single  man,  perhaps.


19.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1819.   (I/B)

GLUTTONY COMES OUT WITH SEVERAL BOWLS FULL OF FOOD AND PLACES IT IN FRONT 
OF ALL SIX MEMBERS OF THE ROOM.  SLOTH SITS UP TO ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING 
ASIDE FROM SLEEP. JOHN SMILES AT IT.

GLUTTONY
Dinner  is  served~!  Bon  appétit!

ENVY
Oh,  Toni.  This  looks  delicious.  You  have  got  to  
teach  me  this  recipe!

GLUTTONY
Oh,  it's  so  easy  it'll  make  your  head  spin.

CAMERA PANS TO THE STAIRS, AS WRATH TAKES LUMBERING FOOT-
STEPS DOWN THEM. THE WHOLE ROOM DOWNSTAIRS LOOKS SURPRISINGLY TOWARD
HIM.

GLUTTONY
Oh!  Wrath!  You're  finally  awake!

WRATH RUBS HIS NECK WITH A WIDE YAWN. HE'S IN PAJAMAS. THE EFFECTS OF
SLEEP STILL ON HIM.

WRATH
Yeah, seems like it.  I  was  stirred  by  John  yelling
something  about  the  hetero-patriarchal  paradigm.  
That, and  I  smelled  your  pasta, Toni,  so  sleep  was
pretty  much  done  after  that.

JOHN TAKES A DEEP BREATH AS WRATH ENTERS THE ROOM. THEY LOOK AT EACH
OTHER.

JOHN
Sorry  about  that, Wrath.  Didn't  mean  to  wake
you  up.

WRATH
It's  okay.  I've  been  asleep  for  awhile,  so  I  probably
needed  to.

JOHN
Ah.  Okay.  Cool.

WRATH
Yup.


20.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1820.   (I/B)

AWKWARD SILENCE. LUST SPEAKS UP.

LUST
John  has  actually  had  an  eventful  day,  Wrath.

WRATH [TO LUST]
Really?

LUST
Mhm.  Maybe  you  two  could  go  out  on  the 
balcony  and  he  could  fill  you  in?

JOHN LOOKS QUESTIONINGLY AT WRATH, WHO SIMPLY SHRUGS AND NODS IN RETURN.

WRATH
I'm  up  for  it  if  he's  up  for  it.

JOHN APPEARS HESITANT. LUST NUDGES HIM, SO HE RELENTS HIS STUBBORNNESS.

JOHN
Sure.  Let  me  catch  you  up  outside.

WRATH
Sounds  good,  pal.  Lead  the  way.

WRATH AND JOHN GET UP AND STEP OUTSIDE, EXITING THE LIVING ROOM. ENVY
EXHALES AUDIBLY.

ENVY
Oh,  boy.  I'm  just  waiting  for  Wrath  to  blow
up,  again.

PRIDE
I  don't  think  that's  going  to  happen.  While
he  can  really  blow  his  top,  you  know  how
he's  usually  very  quiet.

GREED
I  just  hope  he  can  get  through  to  John.

LUST
We'll  see.  They've  never  really  had  a  very
stable  relationship.

DISSOLVE TO:

END OF SCENE B


21.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1821.   (I/C)


CUT TO:
SCENE C
EXT. JOHN CASSIAN HOME BACKYARD PATIO -- NIGHT 1 [CONTINUOUS]
 (John Cassian, Wrath)

JOHN AND WRATH ARE BOTH SITTING ON A CONCRETE PATIO UNDER THE DIM 
LIGHT FROM THE PATIO OVERHANG. THEY BOTH HAVE A BEER IN HAND. ABOVE 
IS A STARRY SKY. JOHN HAS   RELAYED WHAT HE TOLD HIS OTHER ROOMMATES 
TO WRATH.  
WRATH
I  see.  Sounds  like  you've  definitely  had  a
pretty  shitty  day.

JOHN
Tell  me  about  it.

WRATH
Can  I  be  blunt  about  something,  though?

JOHN
Let's  be  frank;  when  are  you  not  blunt?

WRATH
Ha.  That's  true.  Aside  from  your  car,  a
lot  of  the  day  seems  like  it  could  have
been  avoided.  Why  haven't  you  been 
standing  up  for  yourself,  John?

JOHN SIGHS AND RUBS HIS BEER BETWEEN HIS PALMS. HIS ELBOWS ARE ON HIS 
KNEES.

JOHN
Come  on.  We  both  know  you've  always
been  the  guy  I  go  to  when  I  have  an
issue  I  need  resolved.

WRATH
Maybe  you  used  to.  But  you  seem  like
you've  been  avoiding  me,  lately.

JOHN
If  I'm  being  honest  with  myself..  It's
because  of  the  last  episode  you  and  I
had.  Truthfully,  I  still  feel  remorseful
and  full  of  shame...

22.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1822.   (I/C)

WRATH LEANS BACK IN HIS PATIO CHAIR AND NODS.

WRATH
Ah.  I  knew  it  had  to  do  with  that.  
Look,  John... I  understand  you  don't  
like  to  get  loud  and  you  feel  
ashamed  when  ever  you   need  to  
let  loose..  But  there  is  no  real   reason  
for  you  to  hide  who  you  are.  If  you
need  to  yell,  if  you  need  to  be  
assertive, then  do  it;  don't  hold  back. 
It's  okay  to  let  your  sins  guide  you,  
from   time-to-time.

JOHN
Yeah..  Maybe  you're  right.  I  just needed  
to  hear  it.  Then,  taking  that  advice..

JOHN LOOKS AT WRATH.

JOHN [CONT'D]
What  should  I  do?

WRATH
Pride  is  right;  you  have  a  natural  talent
writing  and  you  are  the  one  who  should
be  sending  books  to  editors.  So  honestly,
you  should  start  writing,  again.  And  Envy  
has  a  point;  Luther  doesn't  deserve  a  
false promotion.  That  guy's  an  asshole  and  
I  want to  punch  him  in  the  face.  

JOHN CHUCKLES.  WRATH GRINS AND KEEPS GOING.

WRATH
I  also  think  you  should  
take  Lust's  advice;  Joan  deserves  someone   
who can  give  her  attention  You  can't  keep 
blowing her  off.  Sloth may have some validity;  
you  may  need  some  time  to  focus  on  your  
own  needs.  Maybe  request  some  time  off  
from  work.  And,  if  we're  being  fair,  Greed's  
suggestion  of  better  security may  be  something 
you'll  want  to  look  into.  Also, you  totally  eat  
like  shit.  You  need  to  take  a  page  out  of  
Toni's  book  and  learn  to  cook  for  yourself,  
already.  You  only  cook  when  you're  drunk.

JOHN INHALES DEEPLY.  HE GRIMACES KNOWINGLY. 

23.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1823.   (I/C)

JOHN
You're  right.  Of  course  you're  right.  You're
all  right.  Thanks,  Wrath.  You  really  help  me
focus.

WRATH
No  problem,  pal.  Maybe  we  can  work  on
being  better  friends?

JOHN
Yeah..  Yeah  maybe  that's  a  good  idea.
CUT TO:
INT. JOHN CASSIAN'S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER - NIGHT 1 [CONTINUOUS]
 (John Cassian, Envy, Greed, Lust, Sloth, Gluttony, Pride, Wrath)

ENTER BACK INTO THE HOUSE, JOHN AND WRATH ENTER THROUGH THE PATIO 
DOOR TO A ROOM OF THE OTHER SIX OCCUPANTS. JOHN STANDS BEHIND THE 
COUCH WHILE CASUALLY HOLDING HIS BEER. LUST LOOKS AT HIM. WRATH WALKS 
ON.
LUST
Going  back  to  bed,  Wrath?

WRATH
No,  I  don't  think  so.  I'm  heading  back  
upstairs.. But  I'm  wide  awake  now.

SHOW SHOT FROM TOP OF STAIRS, FOCUSED ON THE BACKGROUND CHARACTERS.
WRATH WALKS THROUGH FOREGROUND OFF SCREEN. ENVY TURNS TO JOHN.

ENVY
Did  you  two  kiss  and  make  up?

LUST
Do  you   always  expect  a  kiss  and  tell,  V?

ENVY (TO LUST)
Only  when  it  happens  and  I'm  left  out.

JOHN LAUGHS.

JOHN
So  hey.  I  just  wanted  to  extend  my  
gratitude  to  you  all  for  helping  me  out
tonight.

24.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1824.   (I/C)

GREED
Of  course,  man.  We  just  want  to  see  you
succeed  in  life.  You  deserve  a  good  one.

PRIDE (TO JOHN)
As  your  best  friend,  I  can  comfortably  say
that  Greed  speaks  for  all  of  us.  You  are
an  awesome  guy  and  we  hate  hearing  when
you  have  a  rough  day.

ENVY (TO PRIDE)
Who  said  you  were  his  best  friend?

PRIDE (TO ENVY)
I  mean...  isn't  it  an  obvious  choice?

LUST
Anyway...  You're  more  than  welcome,  dear.
Would  you  care  for  another  drink?

JOHN WAVES HIS HAND AND SHAKES HIS HEAD.

JOHN
No  thanks.  I  believe  it's  time  for  me  to
retire  to  my  chambers.  I've  got  a  big  day
ahead  of  me.  Good  night,  everyone.

PRIDE, LUST, GREED, AND ENVY SAY GOOD NIGHT TO JOHN AS HE HEADS UP
THE STAIRS TO HIS ROOM. CAMERA FOLLOWS HIM UP BEFORE FADE.
FADE OUT.
END OF SCENE C
END OF ACT ONE












25.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1825.   (II/D)
ACT TWO

COLD OPENING // SCENE D

FADE IN:

INT. PHARISEE PUBLISHING JOHN CASSIAN'S OFFICE - DAY (DAY 2)
  (John Cassian, Mr. Celestine, Voice-Over John, Luther Martin)

WE OPEN IN JOHN CASSIAN'S OFFICE WHERE JOHN IS SITTING AT HIS
DESK, ONCE MORE EDITING PAPERS. HE NO LONGER SEEMS TO BE
ENJOYING HIMSELF. HE TURNS AROUND STARING OUT OF HIS WINDOW. 
MR. CELESTINE KNOCKS AND THEN ENTERS.

MR. CELESTINE
There's  my  superstar!  Did  you  get  those
books  I  needed  done  for  me?

JOHN DOESN'T MOVE.

VOICE-OVER JOHN
Of  course  I  had  those  books  finished.  I
had  stayed  late  to  complete  them  the
night  before,  per  his  request.  Though,
despite  my  nature,  my  mind  kept  going
back  to  the  conversation  I  had  with
Wrath  the  night  before.  

JOHN
Maybe.

MR. CELESTINE DOES A DOUBLE-TAKE THEN LAUGHS NERVOUSLY.

MR. CELESTINE
Haha,  I'm  sorry,  what  do  you  mean, 'maybe'?

JOHN
Why  didn't  I  get  that  promotion,  Mark?

MR. CELESTINE RECOILS AT HIS NAME.  HE STANDS UP STRAIGHT AND LOOKS AT JOHN.

MR. CELESTINE
Come,  now,  John.  You  know  this  is  a
competitive  industry!  There  are  several
people  who  earned  it  just  as  much  as
you  and  walked  away  empty-handed.

26.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1826.   (II/D)

JOHN
34.

MR. CELESTINE
I  beg  your  pardon?

JOHN
I  have  executed  the  editing  process  on 
THIRTY.  FOUR.  Books  for  you  over  the 
last  month.  34.

MR. CELESTINE BEGINS TO EXPLAIN, BUT IS INTERRUPTED BY JOHN.

JOHN
No  one  else  has  pulled  as  many  late
nights  or  dedicated  themselves  to  as
many  projects  as  me,  Mark.  Not  a  soul.
I  know  this  because  'I'  am  the  one  that
is  always  staying  late.  And  yet  you  go
and  give  the  job  to  Luther.  That  knave.

MR. CELESTINE
John.  Mr.  Martin  earned  that  promotion  
because  of  his  work  on  the  Nightmare---

JOHN
---on  Elm  Street  novel,  I  know.  I  know
that  book  was  completed  because 'I'  was
the  one  that  edited  it,  not  Luther.

MR. CELESTINE'S EYES GO WIDE AND HE SITS IN THE CHAIR OPPOSITE
JOHN'S DESK. HE CONTEMPLATES FOR A MOMENT, THEN ADDRESS JOHN
ONCE MORE.

MR. CELESTINE
Even  so,  I  had  already  signed  the  paper-
work.  As  much  as  you  may  disagree  with
it,  Mr.  Martin  is  now  the  Editor-in-Chief.
My  hands  are  tied.

27.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1827.   (II/D)

JOHN
Really?  The  owner  of  the  company  and
you're  informing  me  there's  nothing  you
can  do  about  it?

MR. CELESTINE
Even  owner's  report  to  shareholders,  John.
If  I  went  to  them  and  told  them  I  was
once  again  on  the  hunt  for  a  Chief  Editor,
how  do  you  think  that  would  make  me  look?

JOHN
So...  Luther  keeps  his  unjustified  title  and
you  keep  running  the  rest  of  us  ragged  all
on  account  you  don't  want  to  look  bad?

MR. CELESTINE BEGINS TO EXPLAIN AGAIN, BUT JOHN DOESN'T PAY ATTENTION.
HE'S LOST IN HIS THOUGHTS. HE LOOKS DOWN AT HIS DESK, COVERED IN STACKS 
OF PAPER, THEN LOOKS UP AT MR. CELESTINE.

VOICE-OVER JOHN
In  that  moment,  I  could  hear  Wrath's  words
in  my  head.  "Stand  up  for  yourself."  A  fire
burned  through  me.

JOHN
I  quit.

MR. CELESTINE
You  what???

JOHN
You  heard  me,  you  corpulent,  obese,  fleshy
human  pustule  --  I  said  I  quit!

JOHN STANDS UP AT MR. CELESTINES SHOCKED EXPRESSION.  MR. CELESTINE IS 
TRYING TO FIND WORDS WHILE JOHN PACKS A FEW BELONGINGS INTO A CASE
AND HEADS FOR THE DOOR.  MR. CELESTINE TURNS TOWARDS JOHN BEFORE HE 
HEADS OUT.

MR. CELESTINE
MR.  CASSIAN!  If  you  walk  through  that  door,
I'll  make  sure  you  never  work  in  this  town
or  any  reputable  editing  firm  ever  again,  do
you  understand  me??

JOHN CONTINUES TO WALK OUT, RAISING HIS MIDDLE FINGER OVER HIS SHOULDER 
TOWARDS MR. CELESTINE BEFORE CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND HIM.

28.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1828.   (II/D)

MR. CELESTINE
Well  --  in  all  my  years  --  I  have  never...
Something  so  vile...  so  obscene!
RESET TO:
INT. PHARISEE PUBLISHING LOBBY - DAY [CONTINUOUS]
(John Cassian, Martin Luther, Extras)

CAMERA FOLLOWS JOHN AS HE LEAVES HIS OFFICE INTO THE MAIN AREA. HE PASSES
BY EXTRAS WHO WATCH AS HE GOES. HE'S STOIC, PROUD, EVERYBODY WHISPERS AS
HE WALKS. ON HIS WAY OUT, HE BUMPS INTO LUTHER. LUTHER SEES THE BOXES HE'S
CARRYING AND UNDERSTANDS.

LUTHER
Uh-oh.  You  leaving  us,  Champ?

JOHN
Sure  am.  Can  you  move,  please?

LUTHER
Aw,  well  I  guess  if  you  can't 
handle  the  heat...

JOHN
Luther.  I  know  you're  just  trying
to  rub  salt  in  the  wound,  but  I
ask  that  you  do  not  test  me  on
this  particular  day...

LUTHER
Hey,  I  get  it;   the  baby  didn't  get  
his   promotion  so  he's  too  upset  to
keep  playing.  Good  luck  in  whatever
you  do  next,  John.  If  your  time here
was  any  indication,  you're  going  to
need  it.  Ha!

LUTHER LAUGHS AND WALKS AWAY, SMILING AS HE POINTS TO AN EXTRA, WHO LOOKS
REVOLTED. JOHN STANDS STILL FOR A SECOND, HE'S THINKING.

VOICE-OVER JOHN
So  many  conflicting  emotions  ran 
through  my  mind  in  that   moment,
though  only  a  few  stood  out  in  
the  maelstrom:  Envy.  Greed.  Pride.
But most of all.  Wrath.

29.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1829.   (II/D)

CAMERA CUTS TO SHOW THE BACK OF LUTHER'S HEAD.

JOHN (OFF-SCREEN)
Hey!  Jackass!

LUTHER TURNS AROUND AND CAMERA CUTS TO SHOW AN INFURIATED JOHN. 

SLOW-MOTION FX

JOHN WINDS HIS ARM BACK AND BRINGS IT TOWARDS LUTHER'S FACE, WHO 
DOESN'T REACT AT ALL. THEN, JOHN SLAPS LUTHER HARD. LUTHER'S HEAD
JERKS TO THE SIDE FROM THE SMACK. 

END SLOW-MOTION FX. 

LUTHER GRABS HIS FACE WHERE HE WAS SLAPPED, HE LOOKS MORTIFIED. 
JOHN IS BREATHING HEAVY. THEY STARE AT EACH OTHER.

LUTHER
Did... Did  you  just  slap  me?!

JOHN
(breathing  heavy)  Yeah.  I  did.

LUTHER
Why?!

JOHN
Because,  Luther!  You're  an  asshole,  and
I  wanted  to  cause  you  physical  harm
but  I've  never  gotten  into  a  confrontation
and  the  thought  of  punching  someone
freaks  me  out.

LUTHER KEEPS HOLDING HIS FACE, HIS EYES ARE WATERING. JOHN SHAKES HIS
HAND, THEN TURNS IT INTO A FIST.

JOHN
Luther...  Go  fuck  yourself.

JOHN JERKS TOWARD LUTHER AS THOUGH HE IS GOING TO HIT HIM AGAIN.
LUTHER FLINCHES AND MAKES A NOISE. JOHN TURNS AROUND AND RETRIEVES
THE BOX HE PUT DOWN OFF-SCREEN. IN BACKGROUND, LUTHER KEEPS 
HOLDING HIS FACE AND WATCHES AS JOHN LEAVES. JOHN PASSES BY AN EXTRA
AND MAKES A FACE LIKE HE CAN'T BELIEVE WHAT HE DID. EXTRA RETURNS WITH
A THUMBS UP. JOHN PROUDLY WALKS OUT.

DISSOLVE TO:
END OF SCENE D


30.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1830.   (II/E)

FADE TO:
SCENE E
INT. JOAN ARKANSAS' APARTMENT - DAY 2 [CONTINUOUS]
(John Cassian, Joan Arkansas)

SOUND CUE: DOORBELL
WE SHOW THE INTERIOR OF JOAN'S APARTMENT AS SHE WALKS TO THE DOOR
TO SEE WHO'S THERE. SHE SEES JOHN THROUGH THE PEEPHOLE. SURPRISED,
SHE OPENS THE DOOR.

JOAN
John?  What  are  you  doing  here?  
Aren't  you  supposed  to  be  at  wo--

JOHN LEAPS TOWARD JOAN AND GRABS HER AND KISSES HER PASSIONATELY.
JOAN IS SURPRISED AT FIRST, BUT THEN WRAPS HER ARMS AROUND HIS
NECK. THEY END THE KISS. JOAN LOOKS LOVINGLY TOWARDS HIM.

JOAN
Wow.  Where  did  the  passion  come from?

JOHN
It's  been  long  overdue,  my  sweet!  I
shouldn't  have  ignored  you  for  this  long.  
Now... let  me  make  up  for  lost  time.

JOHN PICKS JOAN UP. SHE GIGGLES. HE USES HIS FOOT TO PUSH THE FRONT
DOOR CLOSE. IT CLOSES SLOWLY AS THE CAMERA ANGLES FROM OUTSIDE TO
SEE THEM GO UP STAIRS.
CUT TO:
INT. JOAN ARKANSAS BEDROOM -  DAY 2 [CONTINUOUS]

WE ANGLE FROM ABOVE JOAN'S BED. JOAN AND JOHN LAY BREATHLESS NEXT
TO ONE ANOTHER. JOHN IS SHIRTLESS, JOAN HAS HER BLANKET PULLED UP.
SHE RUNS A HAND THROUGH HER HAIR. SHE TURNS TO JOHN AND RUBS HIS
CHEST.

JOAN
John...  that  was.. Something else. 

JOHN
You  sounded  like  you  enjoyed
yourself.

31.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1831.   (II/E)


JOAN
Maybe  I  can  forgive  you  for  making
me  wait  so  long,  after  that.

JOHN
Well,  you  won't  have  to  worry  about
waiting  for  it  again.

JOAN
What  do  you  mean?

JOHN
I  quit  my  job  today.

JOAN
What??  John,  I  thought  you  were  trying
to  get  that  promotion??

JOHN
Yeah,  but  Mark's  a  craven  and  Luther's
a  cretin.  I  found  out  yesterday  I  didn't
get  it.

JOAN
Oh,  John,  I'm  so  sorry..  You  must  have  had  
a  rough  day  yesterday.  Can  I  make  it  up  to  
you?

SHE LOOKS LONGINGLY AT JOHN. JOHN SMILES AND LEANS INTO HER.

JOHN
Today,  I'm  only  focused  on  making  it
up  to you.

JOHN LIFTS THE BLANKETS AND LOWERS HIMSELF. JOAN MAKES A 
SATISFIED FACE.

JOAN
Oh,  John!
FADE OUT:





32.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1832.   (II/F)

FADE IN:
SCENE F
INT. JOHN CASSIAN'S HOUSE - EVENING 2
(John Cassian, Lust, Wrath, Pride, Greed, Envy)

CAMERA SETS FROM FRONT DOOR, IT'S DARK INSIDE. JOHN ENTERS.
LIGHT CUE: FRONT LOBBY LIGHT
MUISIC CUE: SCHUMANN -  "SCENES FROM CHILDHOOD"
JOHN TURNS TO THE LIVING ROOM TO A HAPPY RECEPTION. LUST, PRIDE,
ENVY, AND GREED ARE SITTING. GLUTTONY IS COOKING IN THE KITCHEN.
SLOTH IS RESTING ON THE COUCH. WRATH IS WEARING GLASSES AND
PLAYING THE PIANO.

ENVY
Johnny's  finally  home!!

ENVY RUNS OVER TO JOHN AND WRAPS HER ARMS AROUND HIS NECK.
JOHN LAUGHS AND HUGS HER BACK WITH ONE ARM. SHE LETS GO AND
HE COMES DOWN THE STEPS. LUST LOWERS HER BOOK TO LOOK AT
JOHN.

LUST (TO JOHN)
Hmm...  I  recognize  that  face.  You  just
came  back  from  Joan's,  didn't  you?

JOHN
Perhaps  I  did.

LUST
Oh,  please,  dear.  I  practically  already
knew.

JOHN SLIDES OFF HIS COAT AND SHOES. HE SHRUGS IN AGREEMENT.

PRIDE
Hey!  That's  my  boy!  Tell  us  how  it 
went!!  Did  you  guys  get  back  together?

JOHN
Well... Yes.  We  did.

LUST
Oh,  you  bet  they  did.

PRIDE
Yeah!  That's  what  I'm  talking  about!  Get
this  man  a  drink!  He's  earned  it!

33.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1833.   (II/E)

LUST GRABS AN EXTRA GLASS BESIDE HER OWN HALF-FILLED ONE AND POURS
RED WINE INTO IT, OFFERING IT TO JOHN. HE TAKES IT AND DRINKS.

JOHN
Thanks,  guys.  I  also  quit,  today.

WRATH TURNS HIS HEAD UP FROM THE PIANO TO LOOK AT JOHN THROUGH
GLASSES.

WRATH
Really?  Did  you  chew  out  Celestine?

JOHN
Haha,  I  suppose  in  my  own  way  I
did,  yes.

PRIDE
YEAH!  That's  my  best  friend  right  there,
guys!  Showing  people  who's  the  boss.

JOHN
Really,  I  couldn't  have  done  it  without  all
of  your  help.

ENVY
I'm  just  happy  you  have  more  time  to
stay  home  with  us,  now,  Johnny!

GREED
Actually,  what  are  you  going  to  do  to
earn  money  now  that  you've  quit?

JOHN SIGHS.  HE SIMPLY SHRUGS AND TAKES ANOTHER DRINK.

JOHN
I  honestly  hadn't  thought  that  far  ahead,  yet.
I  suppose  I'll  start  the  search  for  employment.

PRIDE
What,  and  just  be  stuck  with  another  job  
that  doesn't  appreciate  your  talents?  

ENVY
I  agree  with  Pride;  I  think  it's  time  you
start  to  pursue  what  you  like  doing.

LUST
Oh,  that's  a  great  idea, V.  John,  why  don't
you  start  on  that  book  you've  been  meaning  to
write?  You  have  the  time  now.

34.

LIVING WITH SIN  (FIRST DRAFT)
"PILOT"  8/10/1834.   (II/E)

JOHN
Yeah?  You  think  so?  I  suppose  I  have  more
than  enough  free  time,  now.

PRIDE
Do  it!  It's  going  to  be  awesome!  You  should
put  me  in  it!

WRATH
It's  a  good  idea,  John.  It'll  help  make  you
feel  like  you  made  the  right  decision.

JOHN
Well.. Alright.  I  guess  I'll  start  on  it.  No
time  like  the  present!

SLOTH
Ugh... It's  impossible  to  sleep  with  all  of
you  as  roommates.

SLOTH GETS UP AND DRAGS HIMSELF UP THE STAIRS, THOUGH NO ONE NOTICES.
JOHN HEAVES HIMSELF OFF OF THE RECLINER AND MAKES HIS WAY TOWARDS 
HIS DESK DOWNSTAIRS, LOCATED UNDER AN OPEN WINDOW. LUST, ENVY, 
PRIDE, GREED, AND WRATH FOLLOW HIM TO WATCH HIM TURN HIS COMPUTER 
ON.  IT BOOTS UP, AND HE OPENS A WORDPAD AND BEGINS TYPING,  READING 
THE WORDS OUTLOUD.

JOHN
Living  With  Sin... By  John  Cassian.

THE GROUP EXCITEDLY EXCHANGE WORDS BETWEEN EACH OTHER WHILE JOHN 
TYPES AWAY.  HE GOES TO TAKE ANOTHER DRINK AS  THE CAMERA PANS AWAY, 
THROUGH THE WINDOW. ONCE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WINDOW, 
TRANSITION FROM WELL-LIT ROOM TO DIM, AS JOHN IS NOW SITTING BY HIMSELF 
WITH NO ONE AROUND HIM.
FADE OUT:
END OF ACT TWO
END OF SHOW
ROLL CREDITS












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Re: [RPC O] Word Hurdles [Open - 15th August]

Post by BrookeDi » Mon Aug 13, 2018 10:21 am

Fractured
By: BrookeDi

She picks the glass up in one hand, the other hand holding a phone to her ear. There's only a murmur of "mhmm," and "yeah," as she only half listens to the mundane life updates and complaints on the other end.

She wanders over in her bare feet to the small water cooler they have set in their apartment, filling the cup halfway before lifting her finger from the button. Her father continues to drone on, and she feels guilty because she wants to tell him she has things to do, or someone else was calling, or anything that will get her off the phone.

"I just wish he would talk to me, tell me what's going on." She realizes they’ve changed conversation topics.

"I can barely get him to talk to me," the woman attempts to soothe or commiserate--however he wants to interpret it. She sounds like she's given up. She sounds tired; she always sounds tired. "And ever since that weirdness with the supposed visions, the talking to god--never mind that my mom and his wife won't do anything about it. There's not a lot I can do from over here, either." Her relationship with her brother, like most of her relationships with family, is strained. As time passed, and his stint with the Marines ended, he had become more and more mercurial. Since, the relationship with her sibling has only continued to strain, until she’s not sure anything is left holding them together.

"Well, at least I have you." Her father continues, and the guilt weighs heavier on her shoulders. She should make more time to visit, to call, to at least send a text message.

"Yeah," she agrees, though she doesn’t sound entirely genuine.

"Did you talk to Catherine this morning?" The stepmother: another once strong relationship, now strained.

"No." Short, clipped.

"She said she was going to call you."

"Well, she didn't."

There's silence on the other end of the line, and she starts to think that, maybe, this call will finally end. "Catherine said to tell you she loves you. She misses you." She takes a sip from the glass and says nothing. "I know that you two aren't exactly seeing eye to eye right now--"

She snorts, "That's an understatement."

Her father ignores her, "but I think maybe you should call her." Again, she says nothing, "I think maybe you two can work this out and it would make me happy." It's a weak attempt to cajole her into making the call, but the powers of persuasion have never been her father's strong suit.

“I’m just not sure if I can. Every time I try to talk to Catherine, it ends in a fight.” The truth was, it was mainly on the woman’s side as she had been rather pugnacious (rightly so if you were to ask her) when talking with her stepmom as of late.

"Maybe just send her a text message, then?" He suggests, not getting the hint.

"Can we talk about something else?" Her tone blunt, sharp. He agrees, and they move on. He talks about work and of her younger sister. During the entire conversation, she can't help but think that her father is incredibly insipid, a thought she tends to have while he talks to her about nothing of importance. She’s never been a fan of small talk.

She's grateful when the call ends, but the guilt continues to weigh on her like a behemoth. She should want to talk to her father; she waited 11 years to meet him, damaged her already tumultuous relationship with her mother to live with him for a time. Except, everything is different now.

She tucks her phone into her pocket, leaning against the kitchen counter so that she can touch the cold glass of water to her head. It feels nice, and she decides to move past the conversation with her dad. Instead, she picks up the book that she had abandoned on the counter nearly twenty minutes ago when her phone rang. The glass of water is left behind in the kitchen as she plops down on the couch, reading a metaphor about a elm tree that she doesn't quite understand. Then again, her mind is distracted. The conversations with her stepmom have been obscene, and she doesn't fancy instigating yet another discussion that will have one, or more likely both of them, in tears. Once more the book is abandoned, tossed aside, and the woman wanders back into the kitchen seeking out the glass of water.

When she reaches for the cup, she knocks it onto the tile floor. A spray of water hits her legs, and shards of glass spread across the kitchen. It's only natural that she burst into tears, even though the cause may not be merely the broken cup. Crouching, she starts to pick up the broken pieces, so familiarly fractured, and split apart.

Things between her and her mother are often tense, causing her to walk on eggshells lest she angers the matriarch. Even when things are going well between them, there's a pocket of anger and resentment that continually rests in her heart for things that can never be undone. Her grandma’s number is blocked on her phone--a relationship too toxic to even allow a quick holiday greeting. She has cousins on her dad’s side of the family, people she hardly knows anything about. Her brother moved halfway across the country, and when he returns he's different, his mood swings becoming similar to that of the parent they had growing up. Not to mention that he has pushed her away because their views are too different. No attempt to apologize or fix what was will ever be enough for him. He never missed her while he was gone, anyway, as he had no problem telling her. Her stepmom was once the person keeping her alive when everything was just too much, and now she can't stand to talk to her; the hurt runs too deep for anything to return to normal. Since moving away she hardly thinks of the dad she didn't know for half her life, and she is often annoyed when talking with him. That, though, comes more from his actions and decisions that followed from the knife shoved into her heart by her stepmom. All the relationships straining against one another, on the edge of shattering permanently.

The woman eyes the pieces of glass on the floor, wondering if maybe she can glue or tape them back together. Hours later, when her wife comes home, she's found doing just that. Each piece of glass put together with painstaking care, only for the thing to be jagged, crooked, and ugly looking. "What are you doing, my love?"

Tears spring into our character's eyes as she glances at the horrendous art project. "I just… I just wanted to find a way to fix it."
"Who would give a law to lovers? Love is unto itself a higher law." - Boethius
"There's nothing wrong with you. There's a lot wrong with the world you live in." - Chris Colfer

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Re: [RPC O] Word Hurdles [Open - 15th August]

Post by GamerScribe » Thu Aug 16, 2018 1:31 am

A tale of Heroism, by GamerScribe;
"...And so then the uh... the guy with the dog-face was all angry and he picked up the piece of window and..." A small boy stumbles through the opening portion of a story, trying to get his rambunctious younger siblings to settle down and go to sleep.

"You're telling it wrong, stupid." The littlest of the trio says staunchly.

"When big sister tells it the story is much better." The little girl says, joining in the efforts to lambaste her brother.

The eldest of the trio looks out the window to the big elm tree and the small plot of freshly turned earth beneath it and gives a short nod, his shoulders shaking for a moment as he attempts to suppress the tears which threaten to spill from his eyes and the hurting that begins to seep forth from his heart.

"I... I'll just get the book then, shall I?" He asks weakly as he turns his back to them and wipes at his eyes to make sure his sorrow doesn't show. He preferred their big sister's retelling of the tales as well, but the marker out in the yard reminds him what's happened. Reminds him of the obscene truth of the world that he's old enough to understand whilst his younger siblings aren't. The memory looms at the back of his every thought like a behemoth creature waiting to pounce and deliver him to the same solemn fate. A creature with a shape familiar from memories and nightmares alike.

Returning to his seat with the large tome the eldest boy sniffles and cracks it open, hunting for the page where they'd left off with the story. A truly difficult task seeing as big sister never had to open the book any more. She knew the stories by heart and could recite them without ever... She had known them. With that sobering thought he takes another shuddering breath and sets back to the task at hand in an attempt to shut out his thinking.

"Alright, little monsters. I've found it, so settle in and no more interrupting." Of course this chiding would be for naught as it was the natural order of things for small children to be an interrupting element, inquisitive and a tad obnoxious even at the best of times. Nevertheless he hoped he could just get them to calm down enough that they would listen and fall asleep so that he might do the same. He felt he was due sleep after this week's events. He cleared his throat and set himself to reading, doing his best to match the wonderful voices his sister... used to do.

"And so Senna, that jackal-headed demon turned to the side of the angels did feel the rage and bile rising in his throat. Beaten and bruised he cast his gaze around and spied a portion of the broken glass through which he had been thrown and within the span of an instant had gripped it fiercely in his palm. Gripping it tight he felt the trickle of blood between his fingers but found it a small price to pay... After all; should he not fight back he would be losing much more soon.

'Every dog has his day, but this shall not be yours, dear one.' The wicked courtier called in a sing-song voice. The mercurial satyr Vannor had been on the heels of The Three since dawn's light and as the moon now rose high in the sky it glinted off of Senna's impromptu weapon. Still the fae came closer still, and in his hand the pugnacious little monster did brandish a gnarled club most wicked.

'Back you cad, lest we see you spray your red and die... a... die a coward's..." The reading stopped. The book fell to the ground and the boy began to weep. He cried heavily, and let the tears roll down his cheeks, the snot spill forth from his nostrils and the breath catch in his throat and leave him a choking wreck.

Both of the younger siblings sat in awestruck bafflement for several moments, their eyes flickering around the room for some sign of a threat. Some monster or monumental screw-up to which they could ascribe the source of their sibling's suffering. And yet there was none. Or at least none they could see.

Three days he had held out, fighting his way through every gray and dreary day, every insipid meal and every pointless conversation. Three days of nightmares. Three days spent thinking about the bear out in the woods. About his sister's desperate struggle to free him from the brambles. About her heroism in standing between him and the beast. About the cloying feel of blood on his skin, despite how much he'd washed... Three days spent racing outside to gather fruit from the trees and then fleeing back inside in a panic. Three days feeling sick and horrified. Three days fighting with the smaller kids to keep them from going outside. Three days he had stayed strong for the little ones, but there were four more left before their parents would return home and he felt he could manage it no longer.

"A... are you alright?" The girl asked, shuffling off the foot of the bed and coming to stand beside the big walnut rocking chair in which her elder, now eldest, sibling sat.

"We were trying to be good... I'm sorry I called you stupid." The little boy added with a look of panic, believing himself to be the cause of his brother's hurt.

"Why did you have to do that, dummy?" The girl says reproachfully as she reaches up to give her sobbing sibling a great big hug.

"I didn't mean to... I'm... I'm sorry." The boy says as he too begins to cry, wrapping his arms around his older brother as the trio holds one another close. All three wishing their elder sister were there to make everything better, all three knowing she isn't with them, but only one comprehending that she won't ever be with them again.

"You aren't stupid. You're really smart. Momma says so all the time. And... and you aren't as good at telling stores off the top of your head, but you read real good." The girl stammers thoughtfully, trying to cajole her brother back into a place of peace.

"Blease don'be sad! I'll gibb yew by bug collect chin!!!" The youngest sobs miserably, his words made slurred and unruly by his heaving sobs.

Hearing the panic in his siblings’ voices, and feeling the hurt and the worry and the love as their little arms try to squeeze him tight and let him know everything will be okay the eldest slowly comes to cease his crying. Wearily he wipes his nose and eyes, and puts on a big beaming smile like the heroes in all the stories his big sister used to tell him.

"Sorry monsters. Your big brother is just a big baby it seems, couldn't handle how scary this part of the story is." He shifts his features, letting the grin feign sheepishness. Together the three laugh and hiccup through the end of their tears. Slowly the room resolves back into its stage set perfection with the little ones on their beds as he tells the tale. A tale of a hero facing impossible odds and coming out alive and on top. A tale detached, he now knows, from reality; but one which as he reads begins to fill him with confidence and resolve. Just like the hero in the story; with those he cares about gone, beset by darkness and the evils of the world he'll stand tall and fight back. He'll learn to deal with the pain and to be stronger for the sake of those counting on him.

As the story draws to a close he leans over each of their beds and kisses their foreheads, then settles back into the chair and settles back into restful sleep, a sleep blissfully without dreams.
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Re: [RPC O] Word Hurdles [Closed]

Post by Forge » Mon Sep 10, 2018 6:26 am

Take heed, mortals. Team Hera have again passed judgement on your performance. Their scored have been tallied, so without further ado, the results for the RPC Olympic Word Hurdles event are as follows:

In third place...
McGenty, representing Poseidon!
In second place...
Brooke, representing Zeus!
And finally, in first place and taking the gold for them and their team;
Athena/Gina, for Team Zeus!
This one was incredibly close, as you can no doubt tell, so a huge congratulations to all of our competitors!
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