Subject: "N-nervous?"
Author:
Posted on: 2015-11-01 01:18:00 UTC
"Oh, it's probably my anxiety acting up. No w-worries," said Gaspard while trying to put on a reassuring smile.
No. Don't smile. You look like a creep when you smile.
He let the smile fade. "But that's enough about me, eh? Er, um, what about you? Who are you dressed up as, ma'am?"
((Hello, everyone! Welcome to the first ever PPC Halloween Masquerade! My friend Basil and I will be running this: no Permission is required, all characters (be they PPC-related or your own OCs) are allowed, and the whole shebang will last from October 30th to November 1st. Anyone who wishes to enter the costume contest must do so before November 1st, as the winner will be announced then. Feel free to post a drawing of your character in-costume! There will also be party games and Pokemon battles that anyone can join at any time. Challenge anyone who’s playing to a battle; you can directly narrate the play or just say your characters are tapping away at screens while they talk. Up to you! The other games are just stacked on a table, waiting. Grab the Twister box, make your characters fall all over themselves, and have fun!
The criteria for the costume contest are three: Creativity, originality, and hilarity. Put your Elf in a tutu and your Klingon in toga; we don’t care! The more side-splitting the combo, the better. Just post a good description of your character in his costume under the Contest thread.
The Masquerade is being held in a large dance hall in New Caledonia. The entire space is decorated lavishly, the lighting is dim, and one wall is lined with food kindly catered by Rudi’s. There’s a Bleep product station in each corner, along with a smorgasbord of candies. Individual decorations are up to interpretation: You want your characters to be standing by a paper dragon that moves and breathes fire? They’re standing by a paper dragon that moves and breathes fire. Anything you can think of from any story or continuum is up for grabs.
In regards to non-PPC characters at the dance: This is up to personal interpretation. If you want to leave it murky, feel free. If you want them to be a new hire, a citizen of Caledonia, or just a friend one of your agents made in your original continuum, feel free. It’s up to you.
Basil and I also have a special surprise planned for you all, so stick around!
-Alleb))
_______________________________________________________________
The dance hall was wild with colored lights and spooky decorations, inside and out. Agents and civilians streamed in, chattering and laughing. Costumes and masks jumped out at every angle, all vying for attention. It was a night for fun, friends, and far too much candy.
The entire event had been spearheaded by Agents Alleb and Michael, their respective partners unwillingly dragged along. The two of them stood on a small stage constructed at one end of the building, waiting for midnight when the party would really kick off. There was a small band behind them (it looked suspiciously similar to the one in the Cantina) tuning up, and various ghostly sounds drifted through the air from decorations.
When midnight finally struck, Michael, dressed as a Roman legionnaire, stepped up to the mike. “Hello everyONE!” Feedback amplified his voice and then rang through the air. He winced, then tried again. “Er, hi! Welcome to the first (hopefully) Annual PPC Halloween Masquerade! We have games, food from Rudi’s, and a costume contest later in the evening. So feel free to, uh, mingle and stuff until then. Well... bye?” With an uncertain cough, he fled the stage, leaving Alleb, a ballerina, to wave awkwardly and shuffle after him. The band covered for them by jumping into “Eye of the Tiger,” and the party began.
-Des' teapot. Who would be good to talk to...or rather, who would be good to talk to who wasn't already talking to someone else...
Aha. Roman legionary, two o'clock. Perfect.
Despairing of the fact that she had come as Iroh rather than as Asterix or Obelix, Dawn made her way over to the tall, dark-skinned man in the Roman legionary outfit, and gave him her best imitation of Iroh's grin.
"Would you like a cup of tea?"
The Guardsman chewed furiously on his mouthful of doughnut, trying to clear his mouth enough for him to speak. "Oh! fffank you," he said though a mouthful of pastry. "Don't mind ifff I do." He rummaged around a pouch hanging his belt and withdrew a small tin mug. He wiped the inside with the hem of his tunic and held it out towards Dawn's teapot. "Fffanks again."
-on the table.
"You're welcome," she said, still grinning. "So, hi! I'm Dawn McKenna, DMS, but right now I'm General Iroh of the White Lotus...uh, wait, maybe he didn't keep that title? I'm not sure. Anyway! I'm Iroh, the Dragon of the West, but normally I'm Dawn, proud owner of a flamethrower. And this is a teapot," she added, waving a hand at it. "So. Who're you, when you're not a Roman legionary?"
...the doughnut/tea slush and ran his tongue across his teeth before replying. "Oh, my name's Emiranlanoamar. Pleased to meet you, McKenna. Thanks again for the tea: it was delicious." He smiled at her. "That's a pretty epic costume you got there, too. Didja make it yourself? That's some pretty high-quality stitching right there."
"I may've had some help," Dawn admitted. "I have a friend who likes to sew and is very good at it. I helped with some of it, though! And I'm the one who borrowed the teapot, too. And, uh, the tea as well. My boyfriend made that. But! I had the idea to dress up as Iroh, and I found the wig myself, so there's that. I'll tell Des you liked his tea, though." She cleared her throat. "Are there any donuts left, by the way? I like donuts. I'd rather like to eat some, too--and Iroh's big on food and enjoying things like food, so it's even in character! And--what was your name again? Emiranlan...lanar? Could you repeat that, maybe? I think I'm missing a piece or two of it. And speaking of names, Dawn is fine, unless you're from somewhere that objects to using first names or finds it rude or whatever else, in which case it's fine, surnames are good too. I rather like this one, even."
...and offered it to Dawn. "Righty-o, miss. 'Dawn' it is. Also, my full name is 'Emiranlanoamar'-- that's spelled with the right circle crossed up to the midpoint and the three inflection dots-- but you can call me 'Emiran' or 'Guardsman' -- everyone does." He fished a doughnut out of the box and crammed it into his mouth. "Fo you were faying that you are 'Iroh'? Nefer heard of 'im. Which 'verfe?"
We'll be bringing this whole thing to a close on Saturday evening! See you all then; I hope you've enjoyed the RP!
-Alleb
Yet another extension to the RP! ^_^ The entire thing is going so well, I don't want to cut it off. Plus, I want to give everyone a little more time with the mystery. Since the "one day extension" didn't work last time, I'll leave this one a little looser; I'll post ahead of time when the RP feels like it's drawing to its natural conclusion. Does that sound alright to everyone? I apologize for flip-flopping on this; I've never run an RP before. But hey, I know what not to do next time!
-Alleb
Originally today would have been the last day, but it's going very well so we're extending it by another day. Have fun, guys! ^_^
-Alleb
The out-of-universe deadline is when the RP ends.
-Alleb
It took Michael a minute or two to reach the stage again, but he managed. He climbed up and motioned for the band to quiet down, which caught most of the crowd's attention.
"Good evening!" he said, in his best Dracula impersonation. It didn't really fit with his costume, but hey, it was Halloween! There had to be a Dracula voice somewhere. "Ladies and Gentlemen, it is time for the Costume Contest! Write your name on the list at the base of the stage, and we will call you up at the end of the night to show off your costumes!
"Now, if you will excuse me, I--"
"Oooh noooo!" came a very bland "scream" from the food table. Mia stood nonchalantly beside the desserts, looking bored out of her mind and holding up the table cloth. Beneath the table was the Aviator, dressed as Princess Azula; her eyes were closed. "The Aviator is deeeeeead. Whateeever shall we dooo?"
Michael coughed slightly, then put on his best "spooky" grin (and no, it wasn't spooky) and resumed talking in his Dracula!voice "That is right, Ladies and Gentlemen! For tonight, we have not only a party, but a murder! It is now up to you, most distinguished guests, to catch our culprit and bring him to justice! All we yet know of the crime is that the Aviator was murdered and stuffed under the desert table with no witnesses, and not a mark on her. There are also several candy wrappers scattered around her, opened and bereft of sweet goodness. Who could have committed this atrocious deed, murdering the PPC's top agent and not even leaving any candy? That is what you must find out.
"Our suspects are three: Perhaps our killer is the famed Luxray Zeb, the Aviator's partner and best friend, who just so happens to know various electric moves that could kill someone without leaving a mark. Rumor has it that he and the Aviator had a recent falling out: perhaps anger bred violence?" he gestured towards the Agent, dressed as Zuko and caught mid-step holding two cups of tea.
"Or perhaps it was Chase Miller." Michael pointed at a young man beside one of the food tables: he was dressed as a lumberjack, complete with an axe, and was with a woman about his age with no obvious costume. "No one knows who this mysterious man is, but he looks very guilty, and the chocolate stains on his hands match the chemical composition of that on the chocolate wrappers found next to the Aviator’s body. Is he our killer?
"Last but not least is Amris: this little unfeeling Drone has a love of seeing insides come out, and he was seen near the dessert table just before the Aviator was found. Is he innocent in all of this, or did he just want to see for himself the famed double hearts of a Time Lord and was interrupted before he could finish the evil deed?
"Here is your task, party-goers: question these suspects! Find the truth! And do it before the night ends."
With a swirl of his cape that tangled around his legs and almost made him trip, Michael exited the stage. "Wow," he thought. "this stuff sounds a lot better when Alleb writes it down for me."
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((In other words, hooray, murder mystery and costume contest! Reply directly to this thread with a description of your character's costume to enter the contest, and find and ask our three suspects questions to solve the murder! Post your final guess here as well. Don't take too long in your questioning, please: other people might have want to ask as well. Your character will be rewarded with massive amounts of candy if they win or figure out the mystery. ^_^ Enjoy yourselves!
-Alleb))
After an entire month, I'm finally wrapping this up. I'm sorry I took so long; it was irresponsible of me. And now, for the conclusion that no one was expecting!
---------------------------------------------------------------
Michael decided to leave Minty where she was, and fled back to the stage once more. The party goers were already losing steam; it was time to wrap all of this up. He motioned for the band to quiet down once more and climbed the steps up the stage.
"Good evening!" he said again. As he waited for the crowd to still, he realized that he needed to use his Dracula impression again. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I have come to announce the winner of the costume contest, and the conclusion of our murder mystery! First, the contest." He had kept an eye on the entrants during the party, and had easily determined the winner. "Our champion is... Chris, as Titans!Robin! Your prize will be waiting for you at the door!" He led the room in applause.
"And now, the conclusion of our murder mystery! Our three suspects, if you recall, are Zeb the Luxray, Chase the lumberjack, and Amris the Drone. You have investigated, and now we will reveal. The true murderer, is--"
That's it.
Oh, you weren't expecting me, were you? No one ever does. I'm the Narrator. I'm the voice in your head that reads the story; without me, you wouldn't be reading this.
I killed the Aviator.
I used Plot Convenience. By definition, it was easy.
Anyway, motive: I'm tired of being ignored. When's the last time you thought about the Narrator? When's the last time you, I don't know, were thankful for your ability to read a story? Let me guess, never? You haven't thought about me. So I'm done. I interceded in this RP as a starting point, but I'll keep going.
Trust me.
"...Michael?"
"Alleb? Is that you? I can't-- I can't see--"
"I can't either. Did the lights go out? But I can't hear anyone but you-- what's happening?"
"I don't know. Some weird PPC thing?"
"I suppose so. I'm going to try to find the exit-- here's my hand, let's try to leave."
---------------------------------------------------------------
And that's the end! Thank you all for participating; it was really fun! What do all of you think of the ending?
-Alleb
((Thanks for hosting this. It was really fun!))
But other than that, this was really fun! I hope we can do it again next year!
By the way, what's the prize for the costume contest?
Perhaps a bit of a cop-out. ^_^ It was fun to write, though. I'm glad you enjoyed the rest! Chris gets a massive sack of candy.
-Alleb
"It's a shame she died," said Miguel, trying to be "in-character." "I hear she went flamethrower-crazy after killing that Rose Potter chick."
"If you ask me, that girl who found her did it," Chris commented. "Did you hear how bored she sounded when she told us Rina was dead? Clearly somebody paid her to kill Rina and frame those other guys."
Miguel tilted his head. "That just makes the party way too complicated...but you may have a point. I'll ask somebody about this."
As Chris went to sign up for the costume contest, Miguel approached the first suspect, Zeb. "Zeb, right? Nice to meet you, I'm Miguel. Congratulations on taking out those two Potterverse badfics; you must be made of stronger stuff than the rest of us. I'd have snapped like a twig midway through chapter two of the last one." He shuddered. He'd heard very little of "LMM", but what he'd heard was not flattering. "Anyway, can I ask you a question or three about your partner?"
Zeb stopped short and turned, careful to not let the tea spill out of the cups he'd been holding. "Oh. Yeah. We did that. Thanks." He gave a weak grin. "Ask away!"
"I promise they won't be too nosy. Anyway, if you had to attack the Aviator--say, if that was the only way to keep her from blowing up something important--what move would you use? Also, does she have any food allergies?"
"Um, probably Thunder Wave, followed by Thunder Fang? And I knew her last two bodies were allergic to Bleeprin, but I don't know about this one. Maybe?" He thought for a moment. "Oh, I know Time Lords are allergic to aspirin! Does that help?"
"One last question before I go bother one of the other suspects: Do you think Michael was too obvious in trying to make Chase look guilty? This isn't exactly on-topic, it just seemed odd that only Chase got the potential smoking gun."
Yeesh. Sounds like Mom's mystery novels rubbed off on me after all, he thought wryly.
"Cease your laughter," he snapped at her. "You've no call to mock such dastardly accusations; there is peace between us!"
"You should totally, like, lighten up," Flora told him. She was still laughing. "This is going to be, like, the most fun ever."
"I despise you," grumbled Chase. "First you refuse to join the masquerade, and now you plan to place false accusations on me--yes, Flora, I know your thoughts, you yet do broadcast them too loudly--"
"Oh, take the light into your nails and have fun," Flora retorted. "Come on, kitty, it's going to be the awesomest fun ever! And I'm totally, like, in costume--I came as a human, remember?"
"Aye, and it is the most boring idea you might have pursued," Chase said. "I, too, could have come as a human; however, I chose to have fun."
Flora's eyes widened, and she gasped dramatically. "By killing yon lady?" she exclaimed in thrilling tones that caught the ear of just about everyone who had ears and was in her half of the room. "Such is your idea of fun? For shame!"
Chase groaned, and smiled brightly at all the people who had turned to stare. "You fiend," he muttered to Flora. "You--" And here he said a phrase in the only other language they shared, which, while only mildly insulting, did not translate well to English. "And I know not why Kimberly's heart turns towards you," he added. "You are awful."
Flora just gave him a sweet smile and reached for an oddly fancy bit of smoked salmon on a cracker. "Let's see you, like, talk your way out of this," she said once she had finished chewing. "Floor's yours, kitty-cat."
Chase groaned again, and turned back to the staring people. "I really hate you. More than any one of my generation has ever hated one of yours. Save Lisbeth. And Jackson. Tell Kimberly I am no longer speaking to you when she returns."
Flora gave him a very sloppy salute and reached for another cracker.
---
((Hullo! These are some of my NaNo people. These two are aliens of a sort, masquerading in daily life as human teenagers; Kimberly is a real human teenager, who happens to know both of them (via school and neighbors). Lisbeth and Jackson both belong to Chase's subgroup of aliens. Since they are my NaNo folks, they're still in development, so if you see them adapting and evolving a bit as the rp goes on...that's why. I'm also really excited to start writing their actual book today, so...yesssssss :D
~DF))
"Excuse me, can I reach over you for a minute?" He grabbed one of the crackers that the dramatic girl had taken. "Thanks. By the way, I'm Miguel and I'm participating in the investigation. Could I talk to Chase Miller for a moment?"
Chase smiled at Miguel, trying to look inherently trustworthy. Judging by Flora's subsequent giggles, he looked rather silly; he stopped. "You have certain questions, I presume?"
Flora leaned back against the table, grinning and watching expectantly.
--
((Sorry about the wait--I had a very busy, very tiring start to the week. Today and tomorrow should be much less busy for me, though!))
((Also, I don't think we've rped together before. This should be fun. ~DF))
"First question: Had you heard of the Aviator before she went into Rose Potter and/or...that other one?" He successfully resisted the urge to spit on the ground.
"Is not Rose Potter a name?" he asked, and then paused. "Is it, perchance, a building? A school? I have not heard of it. As to the Aviator, I have never heard tell of her before today, nor have I laid eyes upon her."
"We're from Canada," Flora added helpfully. "Right now, at least. We're, like, from pretty far away originally."
Show-off, he thought. He talks like the Prince of Verona.
"Next question: If somebody offered you a reward to kill a total stranger, would you do it?"
"...then I would indeed consider it; yet, surely there are others who could be given such a task."
"You know," Flora said innocently, "there are people who would, like, think otherwise."
Chase glared at her. "You speak of those who cannot let go of the past--"
"Oh, totally," Flora agreed. "I just, like, wanted to add that in. Because, like, it would've confused you if I didn't. And it's totally more fun this way, anyway."
--
(("He talks like the Prince of Verona." Perfection. That's brilliant and hilarious and I love that line. Thank you for writing it :D ~DF))
A rather gaudy beach ball that was floating in the air dipped down before bouncing up again. It prodded a brown-aquamarine maniple field at the man it was trying to converse with without much success. “That would be me,” it said.
The man’s posture suggested discomfort; his expression was hidden behind the white Keffiyeh he wore wrapped around his head. He stuck his hands inside the pockets of his brown longcoat. “You have it in you,” he said, his voice muffled. “Or, rather, I’d suspect you if this was real.”
"My name's Miguel. I'm participating in the investigation, and I need to ask him some questions about the Aviator." Hopefully Amris will be more helpful than Chase, he thought.
“Backrow,” he offered as an explanation.
“I’m Amris,” the beach ball said. It poked Chris with a maniple-field. “What do you want?”
"First question: Is it possible for robots like you to do damage without leaving a mark on the target?"
((OOC: Um, Miguel's doing the investigating, not Chris. Chris is in the costume party.))
“Define ‘leaving a mark’,” it said. “Rather: define the observing party.”
“OK, can I go now?” the man asked.
((OOC: Derp.))
"Also, I'm talking about a visible mark, such as a scar or entry wound."
Weirdest. Robot. Ever.
Backrow made no move to go. He did put his hand in a pocket, adjusting his keffiyeh with the other.
Something grey pulsated inside the beach ball. “Again: define the observing party,” it said. “‘Visible’ means three very different things for you, me and Backrow over there.” A grey-tinged field pointed at the man in the coat, who visibly tensed.
"Next question: What's your general opinion of Time Lords?"
“As a race? They are somewhat curious, what with their regeneration process,” it said. “The victim? “Aviator”? I have not met her.”
Backrow, meanwhile, calmed down and crossed his hands, leaning slightly on one foot as he observed Miguel and Amris.
"OK, last question: Do those fields you've been poking people with have the ability to injure sentient beings?"
Miguel was reasonably sure, by this point, that Zeb wasn't the killer. Chase hadn't even identified himself, so he considered that a dead end. Amris was certainly vexing, but that wasn't enough to peg him (it?) as the murderer. Besides, he'd flat-out said he hadn't met the Aviator. So...what the heck's going on here? Miguel wondered.
“I can cut molecular bonds with them,” it supplied helpfully. “Would you like me to demonstrate? Bring me an animal and I will show you.” It sounded almost cheerful.
Miguel returned to the general area of the stage. Unless Chase decided to talk to him, he could now say that Amris was the killer.
But where do I report my findings? he wondered.
"Stephanie, WHY did you feel the need to bring me here? I have no desire to dance..." Chakkik tugged at the sleeve of his white shirt, and at the yellow tie decorating it. "And furthermore, why did you have me dress as that virtual singer? I am far too bulky."
Stephanie Podd was currently pale-skinned and blonde, with a big white bow in her hair. A yellow bow decorated her cut-off sailor suit, and her "legs" were currently black. "I'm too big to be Rin, but here I am. We're here to have fun, Chak!"
"Correction: YOU are here to have fun with CUPID, should he arrive. I am merely present to ensure that you stay out of trouble."
"And yet you agreed to dress as Len."
"Don't push me."
((Yep, the DMS team is dressed as the Vocaloid twins, Rin and Len Kagamine. Both are way too big for their chosen character; Chakkik is six-four and built like a tank, while Steph is eleven feet tall and squishy.))
Mally yawned. Midnight was rather later than she was used to being awake, and she hoped she would be able to avoid falling asleep.
She tried to blend in with Zaddella, Jeremy and Basil so that no one would talk to her until she got her bearings. Looking around the crowded dance hall, she took in all the costumes. At the other end of the room there was a man in an impressive suit of blue armor. There were a few legionnaires, some brown- or blue-suited characters she didn't recognize, and many others. Her own merchant's costume suddenly seemed rather boring. She smoothed her skirts nervously.
A ballerina suddenly appeared and struck up a conversation with Basil.
"It's great to see you, Alleb!" Basil said as she adjusted her dilapidated pirate's hat. "These are the friends I was telling you about."
The Lethan Twi'Lek who was standing next to Mally introduced herself as Zaddella. "I'm not in costume," she said pointedly. "I wasn't told this was a costume party until this afternoon."
Basil cleared her throat and shot Zaddella a glance to match Zaddella's tone before introducing Mally, who waved awkwardly and mumbled something that she hoped sounded witty and interesting.
Jeremy, Basil's Assistant, fluttered just overhead in his parrot costume. "It's most exciting to be here! I've never been to a party before. This is wonderful! Is that punch? What are those people doing on that white mat with the colored dots?"
Jeremy chattered on, and Mally quietly excused herself to get some food. She almost bumped into a tall, robed figure with a death's head and put her head down as she walked to the table.
"I hope the punch is good," Zaddella said behind her.
Mally didn't realize Zaddella had followed. "I hope so too," she answered lamely as she looked over a promising cheese tray.
"We need to find something to perk you up," Zaddella said, picking up a paper plate. "You need to enjoy yourself. This is a fun party. I mean, look at these decorations- a dragon breathing fire! Hmm...do you think it was a good idea to make it out of paper? Anyway, this is a way more lighthearted party than some I've been to. Some of the ones I've been to end up with several casualties and all of us getting kicked out of whatever establishment we've taken over."
Mally rolled her eyes and held the tiny golden chains from her facial jewelry away from her mouth as she ate.
Heeeeere's what they look like:
http://irfrenchfries.deviantart.com/art/OCs-for-PPC-Masquerade-569407390?gasubmitnew=10%253A1446304702
Sorry, I just realized Alleb's already talking to someone. Also, didn't realize godmodding was a thing- too much time to myself writing all the characters. *blush* Sorry.
Here's the post, revised.
Mally yawned. Midnight was rather later than she was used to being awake, and she hoped she would be able to avoid falling asleep.
She tried to blend in with Zaddella, Jeremy and Basil so that no one would talk to her until she got her bearings. Looking around the crowded dance hall, she took in all the costumes. At the other end of the room there was a man in an impressive suit of blue armor. There were a few legionnaires, some brown- or blue-suited characters she didn't recognize, and many others. Her own merchant's costume suddenly seemed rather boring. She smoothed her skirts nervously.
Suddenly she realized Basil was introducing them so someone.
The Lethan Twi'Lek who was standing next to Mally introduced herself as Zaddella. "I'm not in costume," she said pointedly. "I wasn't told this was a costume party until this afternoon."
Basil cleared her throat and shot Zaddella a glance to match Zaddella's tone before introducing Mally, who waved awkwardly and mumbled something that she hoped sounded witty and interesting.
Jeremy, Basil's Assistant, fluttered just overhead in his parrot costume. "It's most exciting to be here! I've never been to a party before. This is wonderful! Is that punch? What are those people doing on that white mat with the colored dots?"
Jeremy chattered on, and Mally quietly excused herself to get some food. She almost bumped into a tall, robed figure with a death's head and put her head down as she walked to the table.
"I hope the punch is good," Zaddella said behind her.
Mally didn't realize Zaddella had followed. "I hope so too," she answered lamely as she looked over a promising cheese tray.
"We need to find something to perk you up," Zaddella said, picking up a paper plate. "You need to enjoy yourself. This is a fun party. I mean, look at these decorations- a dragon breathing fire! Hmm...do you think it was a good idea to make it out of paper? Anyway, this is a way more lighthearted party than some I've been to. Some of the ones I've been to end up with several casualties and all of us getting kicked out of whatever establishment we've taken over."
Mally rolled her eyes and held the tiny golden chains from her facial jewelry away from her mouth as she ate.
Heeeeere's what they look like:
http://irfrenchfries.deviantart.com/art/OCs-for-PPC-Masquerade-569407390?gasubmitnew=10%253A1446304702
...with a friendly smile, followed by a slightly more wary Natasha.
"Are you new recruits?" he asked them. "I'm Aaron Hunter and this is my partner -"
"Nat," Natasha said rather firmly. Aaron, who had barely adjusted to the more masculine appearance her costume gave her, still found himself startled by the change to her voice. "Just Nat works for now."
((Let's say this takes place some point after their conversation with VJ and William.))
Mally looked uncomfortable. "We're just here because Basil invited us."
"Don't be awkward, Mally," Zaddella said. She looked at Aaron and Natasha. "I'm Zaddella and this Mally Morrigan. We're here as sort of a try-on visit. Basil knows Alleb, who talks about working here all the time, and we were all interested in seeing what's what. I'm the product of bad fanfiction, and I'm interested in being a force for good. We dragged Mally out here because she has no friends and never does anything."
Mally pursed her lips. "That's not true."
"Well, the PPC isn't a bad place to work for... well, I mean, it's awful, but I've seen worse. Um, but don't let that turn you off from it or anything, it's really important work. And I mean, it's more fun than crawling through abandoned subway tunnels or something... some of the time, anyways." The conversation seemed to have fallen on Aaron, who was beginning to wish he'd invested a few more ranks in Speech. He cast about desperately for a more neutral conversational topic. "Um, Zadella, right? You said you were from a badfic; what's your home continuum?"
"Star Wars," replied Natasha before Aaron had time to respond. "I keep forgetting you barely even know the basic fandoms."
"Only because you think it's more important that you expose me to your weird anime games," Aaron shot back. "What about you, Mally? What continuum are you from?"
"That's right," Zaddella said. "Think middle schoolers, excited after watching Attack of the Clones."
"I'm actually from the Weft and Warp continuum," Mally said. "It's very different from Star Wars." She smiled, trying to be charming. "How did you start working here? Is it usually this...over the top? I think there's a man wearing a giant robot costume over there. And was someone talking to that sunflower? That's a pretty interesting costume."
------
((Weft and Warp is the title of my NaNoWriMo novel. It's partially inspired by the Wheel of Time. Mally Morrigan is the main character.))
"This is it, I guess," said Nick Jacobs (who was doing a poor job of impersonating the Tenth Doctor) as he and his band of friends entered the dance hall. There was silence for a few moments.
"What now?" rumbled Dirk. The prize-winning boxer was in a Link costume, for some reason. Nick couldn't figure him out.
"We might mingle," Chi-won supplied, tugging on the leather strap over his chest and skillfully bringing his ukulele into his hands. He was dressed as one of the hippie nomads from Avatar. "If we stick to 'Song of Storms,' we'll make some sweet lightning outside!"
"I would advise against that," Hasina said. She had opted for Cleopatra, and had spent over an hour getting all of her dark hair into tiny braids. "We are guests here, after all, and there is already a band playing."
All four of them turned to their fifth member, Skye, but found that she had already fled to the candy station.
"I'm going to get some food," Chi-won announced, letting his ukulele return to its normal place at his side. He then went in the opposite direction from the food and made a beeline for a gaggle of pretty girls.
"I think I will follow him," Hasina half-muttered; she took it upon herself to make sure that Chi-won didn't embarrass himself or others. The guy was a great ukulele player, but he had the social graces of a drunk emu.
Dirk followed Hasina without a word: Nick had noticed the two of them spending a lot of time together in recent days. He wondered what that meant.
"Well," he said to the empty space in front of him. "This is fun."
-Alleb
Miguel Correa, dressed in a slightly-better-than-bargain-bin Spiderman outfit, approached the lonely man in the brown trenchcoat and offered a high-five with the hand that wasn't holding a bag of peanut M&Ms. "You're the Doctor, right? Somebody told me I need to get into that fandom since, y'know, it's about time travel and I can travel through time. I'm not sure I can deal with all the aliens and stuff, though."
"Geez, Miguel, give a guy room to breathe," Ami joked. In keeping with Chris' chosen theme (superheroes who deserve good movies), she was dressed as Radiance. "Also, have you seen Violet? I lost track of her about five minutes ago."
"She's wearing yellow and green spandex and a giant owl mask, and you managed to lose her?" Miguel asked.
"Well, this is a pretty big party..." Ami pawed at the floor sheepishly, then turned to the stranger and smiled. "I don't think we've met. I'm Ami Seeker. Your friend in the Link costume looks great! Did he make that himself?"
((OOC: Violet and Chris will show up in a later post. They're dressed as Hawkgirl and Titans!Robin, respectively.))
Usually no one, well, talked to him at parties.
It was kinda nice.
"I am," he said, taking the offered high-five. "And I can time travel too. Kinda. It only goes for a few seconds. You should really try Doctor Who; the new season is going great." He turned to Ami (who was incredibly sparkly) and returned the smile. "I'm Nick," he said. He glanced at Dirk, who was now laughing at something Hesina had said. It carried throughout the dance hall. "Um, I think he did," he said awkwardly. "Maybe Hesina helped him?"
((-Alleb))
Ami tilted her head curiously. "You don't sound like you know him too well, Nick. Aren't you two friends? You came in with him and those other guys, so I assumed you were."
"BOO!" Violet shouted, jumping in between Nick and Miguel. One of her fake wings slid off and hit the floor with a slap.
"Yaaaah!" Miguel jumped about eight inches into the air and dropped his candy. "Don't do that!"
Violet laughed. "Aw, come on, Miguel, it's Halloween! We're supposed to make people scream like a little girl!"
"I do not scream like a little girl!" he protested.
She picked up and reattached her fake wing. "Didn't say I was talking about you. By the way, watch your step. There's a scorpion behind you and it ain't happy."
Miguel and Ami jumped aside screamed like small children.
"Ami?! Ami, what's wrong?!" Chris gasped, running up to them. "I heard you screaming across the room. Who hurt you?!"
"They're fine, boss. Just a harmless prank in the spirit of the holiday," said Vi casually. "I'm gonna go grab some pumpkin bread, anybody want a snack?"
Chris facepalmed. "Mew damn it, I can't take you anywhere. I'm so sorry about Vi," he said to the stranger. "She's a reforming Sue, and I swear we find new rough edges every damn day."
Vi scowled at Chris. "Atomic Fireballs it is, jerk," she grumbled as she headed for the food.
He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "Our chordophone, Chi-won, can be like that too, I guess. Uh, I'm Nick." He held out a hand to the newcomer, hoping Ami wouldn't bring up Dirk again. It was hard enough to answer questions like that when his uncle asked, let alone a stranger.
-Alleb
He accepted Nick's handshake. "What's a chordophone? Does that have to do with instruments?"
"So what do you think of the party? I'm surprised I can hear anybody talk with how many agents showed up," said Ami.
Miguel glanced at the table the scream had come from. "Hey, you guys wanna join the murder mystery?"
"Nah, not really," said Chris. "Now, the costume contest, on the other hand..."
"You first, wise guy," Ami deadpanned.
Now he had no idea what to do: answer the questions, comment on the costume party, or comment on the mystery? "I knew I shouldn't have come," he thought miserably. "Maybe if I back away slowly..."
He began edging backwards, already preparing to use his "I'm going to get some punch" excuse: a punch from which he would not return. "Please don't notice me please don't notice me please don't notice me..."
((Also, just in case this is taken the wrong way: This isn't me trying to get out of the RP. It's just Nick being socially awkward; feel free to drag him back. ^_^ [hS's smiley face is mine! Muahaha]))
((-Alleb))
"Oops...Sorry we're overwhelming you, sir. I get nervous at parties, too."
"You know what, I'm going to go enter the costume contest after all," said Chris. "I bet nobody else up there has a superhero costume."
"I'll try to solve the murder. Chris, didn't you say you knew her?" asked Miguel as the boys began walking towards the stage.
Chris shrugged. "If you count meeting her at a probably non-canon Easter party as 'knowing her', then yes."
Once the boys were out of earshot, Ami gave Nick an encouraging smile. "Wanna see something cool?" The bracelet on her right foreleg shone brightly, and a pony-sized pink replica of the TARDIS appeared between them. "Ta-da! I made sure to look up the exact spell Radiance's bracelets use so I could do this perfectly. Do you like it?"
"Woah!" he said, bending down to look more closely at the replica. "Awesome! I can't do anything like that, at least, not without the band. Neat! Can you go inside?"
((-Alleb))
Ami trotted around and reached up to the door handle. It felt solid enough, but tingled underneath her hoof. "Ready...and..." She pulled the handle outwards.
Nothing happened.
"Oh. Guess I forgot to make it pony-accessible, too," she admitted, lowering her hoof. "Maybe if I use my normal magic..." Her horn lit up, and the door handle gained a similarly-colored aura.
Unlike her idol, Princess Twilight, Ami was not particularly experienced in using her magic on magical objects she didn't technically create. The resulting feedback burst caused her to jump back in alarm and the replica TARDIS to vanish entirely. "Aaah! Owww...!" She rubbed her horn gingerly. "Princesses, that hurts. I think I learned something about my magic, though. Ow." She was quiet for a little longer, gathering her composure. "So tell me about that band you mentioned. Is that what lets you travel through time, too?"
((OOC: Think about what happened to Ami like a PC user trying to install/run a Windows program on a Mac.))
"It's me, Hasina, Chi-won, Dirk, and Skye. The school matched us up about a month back; it happens to everyone where I'm from. When we play a song together, like The Song of Time, it lets us do different things. I'm not strong enough on my own to do more than jump a few seconds forward or backwards, though. Hasina could probably do the most; she's the strongest one of us." Nick rubbed his neck self-consciously. He'd never actually had to explain how the band worked before-- at home, everyone knew. "This place is so strange," he thought.
((-Alleb))
"I never thought of joining a band back home, though. I was too nervous or busy to audition. What instrument do you play? I might be able to help you get better if you sing or play piano...you know, if you want."
At that point, Violet returned holding a piece of pumpkin bread, a mace, and two packs of Starburst. "Hey, Ami. I don't know what kind of candy you like, so I got you a thing of Starburst. Can you believe they're out of Atomic Fireballs?" She tossed the pack to Ami, who caught it in her magic. "By the way, stranger, I don't think I introduced myself. Violet Greenfield, at your service."
"Nick," he said. "Nick Jacobs." He turned back to Ami, albeit very unwillingly. "I play... well, this." He reached into his pocket and drew out his ocarina. It seemed ridiculously tiny, even more so than normal. "It's kind of a joke instrument," he said with a grimace. "Not much use."
((-Alleb))
"But that's probably my not-so-inner Zelda fangirl talking."
Violet bit off a chunk of her pumpkin bread. "Understatement of the year."
"Yeah, probably," the pony laughed. "So does everyone where you come from know how to play a magical instrument? That sounds like one of the coolest 'verses ever!"
((OOC: Sorry, Alleb, but given what time I'm posting this, I think we'll have to cut the RP off here. I love your characters and their ideas, and I think Ami would get along great with Nick, but...yeah. Thanks for playing along! I had fun! :D))
Nick blinked rapidly. No one knew what an ocarina was. No one. He'd been carrying this thing for two years, and not once had anyone recognized it. "That's... impossible."
((I'm having fun too! :D
-Alleb))
"You mentioned the Song of Time when you talked about your powers, and your friend showed up dressed as Link, so Ocarina of Time exists in your home verse, right? ...Right?" Ami's horn lit up again, and a ghostly image of Young Link inside the Temple of Time appeared. Illusion!Link pulled out the Ocarina and played a short, soundless tune. The illusory Door of Time opened, and as Illusion!Link walked through, the image vanished. "Does this ring any bells?"
"Oooo, spooky," Violet commented through a mouthful of pumpkin bread.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Ami chided.
((OOC: Ami's illusions can't produce noise, hence why I used "soundless tune" to refer to the illusion's Song of Time. I promise never to sound that pretentious again.))
Nick shook his head. "No, not back home. We've got The Legend of Zelda, yeah, but not that. And the Song of Time was just discovered like any other song."
((Another thing to iron out in my book-- Zelda.
In regards to the "discovering," well, a little kid could tootle out a new tune on his recorder and accidentally blow out a wall, so experimentation without proper precaution is actually discouraged. Therefore, most songs are "discovered" by professionals-- song composition is just another branch of science.
-Alleb))
"Oh, I see. To be honest, I only found out that the Zelda series even existed after coming here. Chris showed me the original on the Virtual Console and things sort of spiraled from there."
Violet finished eating her pumpkin bread. "You say you 'discovered' the Song of Time. Does that mean you can, like, raid ancient temples for tunes or something? What about pop music?"
Nick thought for a moment, then began. "So, you guys have scientists, right? Well, our composers work like that. See, if we just started combining notes and make songs on our own, it'd be like someone mixing a bunch of random chemicals to see what happens. I t could do nothing; or it could explode in our faces. Our composers work to discover songs safely, then release the music in journals and magazines. What's pop?"
((Sorry I took so long! I'll work out an actual ending to the RP as soon as I can.
-Alleb))
Despite being one of the tallest and most imposting figures present thanks to his powered armoursuit, Gaspard was sticking to the edges of the hall, casting furtive glances at the crowd while carefully loading his cardboard plate with food and treats with an oversized robotic gauntlet. Despite being bulky, blue, and making him stick out like a sore thumb, the CMC-300 suit made him feel safe and comfortable. People didn't look at him-- the looked at the armour and talked positively about it (unless they were right next to him, in which case "watch it!" was more often said than "check out those pauldrons!"). Being the centre of so much positive attention was a rather new experience for the Spy, and he was savouring every moment of it. He looked up again. Maybe he'd see someone he knew and strike up a nice chat. Or meet the gaze of someone who wanted to talk about his suit and also have a nice chat.
Gaspard paused, looked down, and went back to shovelling food onto his plate. No, that was a dumb thought after all. People just didn't cold-approach others like that-- this was real life. He'd better just stick to enjoying the food. There was less potential for social awkwardness that way.
-----
Another Roman legionnaire walked into the hall. Clad in sandals, a red tunic, and lorica segmentata, the Guardsman looked around the room and sighed when he saw Michael. "Great," he grumbled as he adjusted how his helmet sat on his head. "And I thought I was being original. Oh well."
The former soldier then noticed the massive amount of food laid out on the tables nearby. His costume woes forgotten, he made a beeline towards the nearest table and grabbed a plate. This was going to be a good night.
"Hey," she said, nodding towards a towering blue armorsuit near the food table. "Chi-won seems to be doing fine, and that one looks lonely."
Dirk glanced at the ukulele player. He was currently trying to serenade the punch bowl. "Seems to be," he grunted.
"Let's go, then," she said, jerking her head and causing her elaborate braids to swing. "I'd hate for someone to spend the evening alone."
Dirk smiled and let her lead.
It took a few moments to reach the blue suit, what with all the slightly-intoxicated party guests, but the two of them managed. Hasina arrived first and reached up to tap the suit's shoulder. "Hello, in there!" she said cheerfully. "I could not help but notice your costume! It is wonderful!"
((FYI: Hasina is dressed as Cleopatra, and Dirk is Link.
-Alleb))
For the second time that night, someone commented on Gaspard's armour. Talking to the Aviator had somewhat drained him of energy-- Gaspard wondered if he could survive a few more hours at this pace.
"O-oh. Thanks. You two, er... you're also looking pretty good! Loving that Link costume," he said to Dirk, "and I believe that's ancient Egyptian royalty, right? Oh, very well done. S-say, you should join the costume contest. I'm sure you'll go far."
"It is; I'm Cleopatra. I hadn't thought about joining the contest-- say, perhaps you could try it with us!" Hasina said. "Your armor is the most impressive thing in this room. It's even better than the food!" With a grin, she popped a small appetizer into her mouth, chewing with relish.
"She's right," Dirk said slowly: he always did that, as if he were testing each word as he spoke it. "Did you make the suit yourself?"
((-Alleb))
"It's, er... I got it from a 'fic," he said to Dirk. As he listened to the CMC's afterburner fans whirr behind his head for a few seconds, he felt obliged to add: "But, um, if it counts, I did manage to put it on myself without anyone's help, so that's a thing. I-it's also, er, technically mine: one of the rare p-perks of being a Starcraft-verse intelligence operative. Well, I say 'mine': when I found it, there was a reddish-grey stain all over the back of the helmet. I try not to think about it."
Looking over to Hasina, he said: "Er, a-as for the costume contest, I'm sure th-that I'm a bit too, er, flashy to be a serious competitor. Also, um, I'm wearing a dead guy's armour and walked into a Halloween party with it, which I believe made me gain negative karma. Somehow."
---
((For reference, the CMC-300 and the suit-up sequence.))
"It is, after all, a contest: like the nationals, only not national. Like the locals, I suppose."
"District," Dirk said. "That's the word: district."
Hasina snapped her fingers. "Right! That is it. Like the district competition. I'm sure you would win: look at that armor! It is fantastic!"
((-Alleb))
"Oh, I d-don't know," he said. "Seems like an awful lot of attention for just one person. I don't t-think that, um, it would be right, really. I'm even starting to regret wearing this thing, too..."
Hasina smiled kindly. "But, if it means anything, I don't think you should regret wearing your costume. If nothing else, it has given Dirk and I something to aspire to next year!"
Dirk, who was already rubbing his chin in thought, nodded assent. "Quite the sight," he said.
((-Alleb))
Gaspard looked around for a few moments, trying to figure out how to proceed with the conversation like a normal, not-socially-anxious person.
"Um, er, so... what department are you two serving in? I-is it Floaters? It's always DoF nowadays..."
"Dirk and I are just visiting; our friend approached us about recruitment a little while ago, and suggested we attend this party. Just as a way to get to know the place. What department are you in?"
((-Alleb))
"...if someone comes up to you and asks if you want to join, run. Just find the closest portal home and run for the hills. This is not a nice place," said Gaspard quickly. "Bad pay, worse bosses, and shifting timelines out of the whazoo. I'm not even sure if this," he waved a massive gauntlet in the air, "is even going to be canon. It's that kind of place."
---
((Darn it Gaspard, stop breaking the fourth wall.))
Hasina frowned, glancing around the party. It looked alright to her, but she was no expert in this. "If you do not like it here, why do you not... leave? Find a different job?"
((Heh, it's fine. I like fourth wall breakers, personally. They're a lot of fun.
-Alleb))
"...if I said I had a timeline loop to close?" replied Gaspard. "Also, my parents work here. It's nice to be able to see them every day without having to portal another dimension."
She cocked her head, jewelry jingling. "What do you mean by that?"
((Sorry for my long delay; lots of stuff happened IRL. I'll set about getting a new "final" ending date for the RP.
-Alleb))
This one was blond-haired and brilliantly blue-eyed, and looked a great deal like Chris Pine. He spotted the Guardsman almost instantly and walked over, grinning.
"Yo, Emi," he said, and clapped the Guardsman on the shoulder. "Ave, or whatever. How's it hangin'?"
"No," he choked. "Oh, heck no. Two questions: firstly, how recent? Secondly, is this a time travel event or not?"
"Relax, bro. I'm just having fun. Well, okay, someone dared me to do it, but it's fine. Really. And, uh, as for how recent..." He shrugged, and then made a face and tugged at his armor. "Look, it's been a couple weeks for me, but for you it's still a while off. Stop worrying. I'm gonna be fine."
"You're insane. I taught you about these situations! Now get out of here before you blow a hole in causality or something. Ri-- Arin is here. She can't see you like that! She'll go into conniptions! Shoo! Go! Amscray!" He made flappy go-away motions with his hands.
"Lighten up, Emi. I know what I'm doing, and I know not to talk to her. She's gonna be talking to that dude in the giant suit thing for a while, and then she'll be busy. All I have to do is stay out of her sight, which I'm doing, and seriously, everything's fine--oh, hey, is that Zeb? Cool costume." He grinned, then turned a wide-eyed look on the Guardsman. "Come on, Emiranlanoamar, aren't you happy to see me? Don't you want to hang out for a bit, find out what kind of awesomeness you'll be hanging out with in the future?"
"Look, I'm glad to know that you'll be alive at some point in the future, but there's gonna be heck to pay if she even smells you in the room. Think! You're thinking! That means you leave a psychic trace! Just-- hang on." The Guardsman reached into a side pouch on this belt and took out a walkie-talkie-like device. He activated it with a push of a button. "You remember the psi-blocker, right? Here, take it and pray that it works." He gave the legionnaire another look-over. "As for the smell, go and lather yourself in perfume or something, frat boy."
-device. "You know, this is exactly why I didn't go see future-you before I came here. You're all responsible and s**t. This is supposed to be fun. And I'm not gonna wear perfume, shut up." He pocketed the psi-blocker, then added quietly, "Uh--thanks. I kind of forgot about the smelling thi--hey! She could just think I was past me! If I just stay out of sight, especially with the psi-blocker, it'll be fine. She won't know it's future-me, or not-past-me, whatever. You worry too much." He tugged at his armor some more, then made an annoyed sound and started to pull it off. "Hate this costume, it itches..."
"She knows you! How can you pretend that this," he waved at the man, "is a 'past self'? She'll see right through your disguise! Ask yourself: is this worth the risk? Do you want to potentially reduce a friend to tears over a mere stunt? Where's Naya? Your Naya. Don't play dumb-- I see that bracelet in Khelish on your wrist. I won't hesitate to call for backup if I have to..."
"She's not going to see me, Emi," he said. The armor came off, and was tossed to the ground with a light crash. "So of course it's worth the risk. I told you--I know where she's gonna be. I'll avoid her. And now I've got the psi-blocker, so it'll be even easier! Just calm down." He eyed the rest of his costume, and began to rearrange it into a better toga style. "Anyway, she's the one who put me up to it. The Aviator, I mean, not Naya--come on, Emi, d'you seriously think Naya'd tag along for something like this? She doesn't know I'm here. I didn't tell her." He grinned. "You're short some back-up, unless you're going to call in this time's Naya--and she'd freak out at least a bit, even if you told her straightaway I'm from the future, so you're not gonna. I know you, Emiranlanoamar. We've been friends for years by my time."
...with a frown on his face. He was about to say something along the lines of "this is getting ridiculous, now it's time for you to go" until he spotted a familiar silhouette several steps behind the Reader. She was clad in a fancy black Victorian dress and wore a hat with a veil that completely obscured her face. She cocked her head to the side. Something told the Guardsman that behind it, she was smiling.
The woman raised an arm to adjust her veil. On her wrist was a bracelet identical to the Reader's. The Guardsman smiled and continued listening to the Reader go on about how Naya didn't manage to follow him to the party.
"You know, for someone who kept on telling me that I'm 'not perceptive enough', you're surprisingly unaware of everything that's going on around you," said the Guardsman once the Reader had stopped talking. "You're also forgetting that Naya and I have also been friends for a long time. She's always had my back-- no matter the time or place. Isn't that right, future-Naya?"
The veiled woman had snuck up on the Reader and quickly wrapped her arms around his waist. "Gotcha," she said. "Don't worry about him, Emiran. I got him under control."
The Reader jumped, and turned to look. "Wow. Uh. Aw, come on, how did you even know I was coming here?" He frowned. "Did Ave--the Aviator tell you? That one's got the brains of a lemming half the time, I swear. You look awesome, by the way."
Future-Naya let go of her husband. "As for how I knew... heh. As if I'm gonna spill the beans! If you start trying to be sneaky-beaky like, how am I supposed to keep an eye on you, huh?"
She turned to her partner. "Future-you sends his regards, by the way."
The Guardsman nodded. "Then I'd better start eating more foodstuffs: I wanna give him good memories of this party. I think I'll start by the desserts... and say 'hello' to Arin on the way there. She must be bored out of her mind, pretending to be dead."
Naya nodded. "You do that. Oh, and Emiran? Since I was a bit self-conscious back then... I'll do what younger me couldn't." She lifted her veil and smiled at him.
The Guardsman grinned. "Hello, hello! Out of the suit, eh? Lovely to actually see you, Naya. Though I have to say, I imagined you differently..."
"You say anything dumb and I'll wipe that smirk off your face," said Naya in a mock-angry tone. She was unable to keep the smile off her face as she continued: "Now shoo before you say something rude."
"All right, all right. You win," said the Guardsman, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'll get going now. See you later, Naya. Heh, geddit? "'Later'? No? Bah. You too, Xandr... eh. I'm gonna call you 'Xander'. How does that sound? Yeah, it fits. Keep him out of trouble, Naya!" said the Guardsman has he disappeared into the crowd.
"Every. Time." He reached for Naya's hand, twining their fingers together. "I can't even go to the past without him mangling my name! Why does he have to do that? I've never mangled his! I just call him Emi now, which is fine, he called me 'Xandria' for years--what's it gonna take to make him stop? Seriously! I'm a Time Lord, not a teenager in a Hawaiian shirt! It's degrading!"
"...I think that Emiran doesn't like being called 'Emi'. Just going off on a limb here," said Naya. "Also, that reminds me: on your next vacation day, we should go somewhere tropical. I was thinking Fiji. How does that sound?"
"-mangling my name entirely!" the Reader protested. "It isn't fair. At least I'm actually using part of his name. He should be happy I didn't pick up Kirk's nicknaming thing when it comes to him, he'd probably be--Wrenches, or Laser, or something." He grinned. "And yeah, tropical vacation? Love to. Do you mean Fiji on Earth, or Fiji the planet? Both are tropical, as far as I remember."
"It's a beautiful planet, you know. I'll have to use a disguise to fit in, but hey-- at least the food will be great. I'm not too keen on visiting the Whoniverse, sweetie: you know how danger lurks around every single corner. It's ridiculous, I tell you! Ridiculous!"
-ducked under Naya's veil to kiss her quickly before popping back out. "I guess it's pretty enough. And alright, we won't go back to the world that spawned mine for a vacation. I'll live with it." He busied himself with rearranging the fall of Naya's veil, grinning cheekily at her whenever their eyes met through it.
...and gently grabbed her husband's hands. "Oh, will you behave, Xan?" she said, grinning. "And I'm sorry for choosing the vacation destination this time: it's not like you chose the last three... I think it's time for me to step up my game a little. I can 'wow' you too."
The Reader grinned back, less cheekily this time, and kissed her knuckles. "And," he added, both cheekiness and smile fading into sincerity, "you 'wow' me all the time. You don't have to step up your game; you could keep your game as-is forever and I wouldn't care."
"You certainly know how to speak to the ladies," said Naya, smiling broadly behind her veil. "But can you dance?" She looked towards the dance floor, then at the Reader. "Come on, Xan. Let's rock this party and show everyone how it's done."
A lanky, hawk-nosed teenager sidled up to the hulking suit of mechanized armor. He was dressed in a rather underachieving impersonation of the Tenth Doctor, and his sonic screwdriver was decidedly amateur. "Where'd you get that costume?"
((-Alleb))
The Aviator's head whipped around at the sound of a heavy mecha suit clunking across the floor. For the first time that day, a smile spread across her face.
She elbowed Zeb and nodded at the suit. "I'm going to go check out the newcomer. Let you hang with Dawn, if that's alright with you," she said, nodding at Zeb's old partner.
"Alright," Zeb said, giving the Aviator a quick hug. "Have fun, okay?"
"I'll try," the Aviator said, and strode off.
She stopped several feet in front of the CMC-300 and craned her neck to look at the person inside. "Nice suit," she said, not bothering with Azula's cold drawl. "Where'd you get it?"
Gaspard looked up from his plate, searching for the voice's owner. "Oh! Uh, h-hello." He straightened up and faced the Aviator. In his armour, he towered over her. "Er, my suit, yes? It's, er, I got it from an Intel run. 'Acquired' it from a , um, a non-canon bunker. It's actual hardware, not a D.O.R.K.S. disguise. So it's, um, real. Not fake. Um, I mean, um... yeah."
Sensing that he reached a conversational daed end, he swallowed nervously and (very carefully) offered his free hand to the Aviator, balancing his plate of food in the other. "I'm Gaspard De Grasse. Pleased to meet you, ma'am. Your exploits are talked about all over HQ."
The Aviator looked more than a little disgruntled. "Yeah, so I've been told." She shook her head and accepted the outstretched hand; ensconced in the suit, it completely dwarfed her own. "Never mind that, though. You've got a fantastic costume; I'm surprised you haven't been mobbed yet."
Gaspard cleared his throat and tried to keep the stammering out of his voice, with little success. "It's er, only a regular suit of armour. N-not really, um, like, um... i-i-it's like, regular, you know?" Despite the suit's A/C systems, he was feeling sweat accumulate on his brow from the sheer awkwardness that he was sure he was radiating. "Not really mob-worthy, you know? And, it's kind of stupid too, because I wanted to stand out but now I do stand out and now I kinda feel dumb because people are looking at me but at the same time it's not like I don't like it or anything, but it's like... like..."
His voice trailed off as he realized what he had just spewed right in front of this stranger. He swallowed again and tried to keep his face neutral. "Yeah."
"...not for the reasons you'd hoped?" The Aviator gave him a wry smile. "Wonder what that feels like. But never mind; we can forget the suit if you want." She waved a hand. "So. Gaspard, was it? Don't believe I've met you before. Where do you work?"
My life is boring, nobody wants to listen to me talk about that, thought Gaspard, but his mouth said: "Department of Intelligence, ma'am. Junior intelligence officer: write reports, file reports, go in the field once every six days. Nothing to write home about."
"Don't know if I'd be able to do it, though. Too used to being on the move." The Aviator peered at Gaspard. "And you don't have to call me ma'am, this ain't the military."
"...out of the t-two of us, you are the one with the post prestige in Headquarters. That s-sort of thing must be acknowledged. You know, like, er... um, respect, from a lower-echelon staff member towards a higher-up."
The Aviator leaned against the table and picked up a strange looking fruit that vaguely resembled a pomegranate, if pomegranates were supposed to be a violent shade of magenta. She broke it open and began picking out the seeds. "I f***ed up the two most important assignments of my career and caused a massive brouhaha after the second. I wouldn't say that's prestigious." The Aviator dropped several seeds into her mouth and chewed slowly, thinking. "I'd say the fact that you've managed to fly under the radar and not cause any trouble is a lot more commendable. Must be nice to have a quiet life."
...or more specifically, the suit's shoulders shrugged, meaning Gaspard made his elbows move up and down to reproduce the effect. "T-the fact remains that you're still one of HQ's most popular agents and that you've killed two Legendaries. Unlike you, I'm replaceable, ma'am. I-i-it's not so much flying under the radar a-as, um, like... not being detectable. At all. Impossible to detect, I mean. Er... yeah..."
The Spy had the awful feeling that he was being socially awkward again, so he let his voice trail off shakily and broke eye contact with the Time lady.
The Aviator ignored Gaspard's stammering in favor of plucking out more seeds. "Must be nice to have a quiet life. Or at least one where not everyone knows every intimate detail of your life."
Don't say something cringey. Don't say something cringey.
"I, um, I suppose, ma'am. B-but it's just that, sometimes, y'know, er..." He bit off the rest of his sentence before he mentioned that being unnoticed to the point of near-invisibiity was wearing down his already-abysmally-low self-esteem. She didn't need to know about his lonliness-induced stomachaches-- she was the Aviator for crying out loud: a veteran of the Time War. Gaspard doubted she would be sympathetic.
He then realized that his last sentence led to nowhere. He felt the sweat accumulate on his brow again. "Um."
"Something the matter? You sound nervous."
((Dude, are you sure you didn't go rooting around in my head to create Gaspard? This is some scary stuff.))
"Oh, it's probably my anxiety acting up. No w-worries," said Gaspard while trying to put on a reassuring smile.
No. Don't smile. You look like a creep when you smile.
He let the smile fade. "But that's enough about me, eh? Er, um, what about you? Who are you dressed up as, ma'am?"
The Aviator looked down at herself. "Oh. Princess Azula from Avatar: The Last Airbender. It was my partner's idea. Not exactly my first choice, but hey, whatever makes him happy, you know?"
"Ah, y-yes. He's a Luxray, isn't he? I've never met your partner in person, see. I only know what the DoI gossip mill digs up about him. Is he here tonight? I'd think a electric lion would be hard to miss here but all I'm seeing are people and... oh, that's nice." Gaspard craned his neck to get a better look, which translated to a couple hundred kilos of neeosteel leaning slightly to the left. "A Gardevoir in a long black dress. But er, no Luxray. Is he, er, in human disguise, then?"
The Aviator looked around, then pointed out the teenager who was dressed almost identically to her. "He only used the disguise generator to go to his default human form; neither of us like using the disguise generator to make the costume look better." The Aviator looked around. "Ooh, Victoria looks good tonight. Wonder if Zeb'll notice." She grinned.
"I have it on good authority that Zeb doesn't, er, um. Like girls, ma'am. As in, um. you know." He shuffled awkwardly, dragging a heavy boot across the ground. "Well, yep. Or so Madam's sources say."
"Meh, doesn't matter, does it? He's never shown any inclination either way, so what the hell do I know?" She paused and scowled. "This is the same Madam Tacitus reports to?"
"Er, I thought you knew. Tacitus is merely in the employ of Madam-- he's not a free agent. There are dozens like him all over the place, collecting and selling information. It's, er. Commonplace. And Madam isn't the only one doing it either-- Rudigore is also in the information trade."
The Aviator looked disgruntled. "There go my plans to ever drink at Rudi's again. Ever. Thanks for the heads-up."
"I guess?" Gaspard looked away. He had the feeling that he had ruined someone's day. "So, uh... read any good books lately?"
The Aviator checked her watch and sighed restlessly. "I'm a bit more anxious to see how tonight's episode of Doctor Who plays out, to be honest. What about you?"
...pointing at a holographic screen next to his right cheek. "It's... okay, I guess. Series nine has been pretty good so far but this one was sort of 'meh' in my opinion." He fell silent and looked around. "Er, I'm not boring you, am I?"
The Aviator gave him a faint smile. "Nice to talk to someone who's not trying to get me out of an angstfest, or bugging me about my personal life. 'Sides, you seem pretty smart. Makes sense, since you're in DoI, but meh." She shrugged and looked around for a clock. "Just a heads-up, I somehow agreed to help the hosts with a thing later. Dunno when it'll start, but maybe we could keep chatting after?"
"It's just that, er, my intel team has got the early shift tomorrow and I'm not sure if I'll be around but if you really do want to talk, er, I'll be around. I think you'll find me quite easily, yeah?" he said, patting the top of his helmet. "Have a good evening, ma'am."
Although he really wanted to, he refrained from mentioning that intelligence was not a prerequisite for working in Intelligence-- especially when the likes of Harris Frost worked for the Sub Rosa.
...walked up and flicked the Aviator's shoulder. "Oi, Time Lady," she said. "Greenie says it's time,"
The kid had her on messenger duty now. At least he wasn't sending her out for a pumpkin spice latte; then she'd punch him.
"Nice suit," she said, nodding at the large chunk of metal. She turned and started walking towards the food table, expecting the Aviator to follow immediately.
((-Alleb))
"Knew I shouldn't have mentioned it. Figures the Narrative Laws were paying attention," she muttered. She sighed and looked at Gaspard. "I'll message you, alright? It was nice talking." She gave him a small wave, then turned to follow Mia.
"Greenie has you under the desserts," she said. "He'll announce the thing in a minute and I'll pull up the tablecloth."
She spent a moment elbowing her way through a clot of people before they came to the dessert table. Just as she would a few minutes from now, she pulled up the starched cloth and gestured the Aviator towards the dark space underneath. "After you."
((-Alleb))
Sorry; I didn't see this when I posted a reply! SeaTurtle, feel free to disregard mine.
-Alleb
Dressed as Trainer Red and holding a Petilil in his arms sheepishly walks in. He wants so socialize with the oterhs but is quite shy.
A dark-haired Asian youth ran past him, yelping periodically; if one were to follow him, they would notice that he was dressed in a dark brown adventurer's vest over a blue short-sleeved shirt, faded blue jeans, and jungle boots.
A moment later, the reason for his alarm became clear. Snapping at his heels was a man-sized dinosaur with scaly skin, pronated hands, curved claws on its feet, and distinctive blue markings running down the sides of its torso, tail, neck, and lizard-like face.
Before the brunette could react, the Asian had doubled back and grabbed his arm. "You've got to help me!" he cried. "The raptors have a new alpha and they've killed all of Hoskin's men and - AAH!"
The raptor with the blue markings had pounced at him and... nuzzled his face into the Asian's neck and shoulder. This, of course, left both of them laughing.
"You're so easy to scare, brother," said Ripper. "It really is a wonder you can even handle yourself on missions."
"Okay, okay! I get it!" Falchion chortled. "Don't get ahead of yourself, though, we've got newcomers around here!" He turned to the brown-haired man and smiled. "Hey, uh, sorry if we scared you. We were just having a little fun!"
"You are," Ripper added. "I only came here to see a friend. And I'm still questioning your idea to use a D.O.R.K.S. to disguise me like this, too..."
(Falchion is dressed as Owen Grady, from Jurassic World. Ripper, of course, is Blue.)
Five women, all young, were arguing in the corridors of the Nouvelle-Caledonie section of HQ with the addition of one very definitely male young man. He was ostensibly there to keep the peace, but mostly what he was doing was glowering at a slightly charred map and muttering to himself about asking for directions from a damn plant.
"I can't believe this," came the same voice as before. It belonged to a small, wiry Goth who'd come as the Spectre Of Friedmanist Economic Structures, something that looked uncannily similar to a bedsheet with eyeholes and a load of currency symbols sprayed on it in multicoloured car paint. "We're hours late. Hours. We'll miss the midnight countdown at this rate!"
"Tess, deep breaths." This from a taller girl in a thrown-together witch's outfit, somewhat spoilt by the work polo-neck underneath with a nametag reading 'Hello! My Name Is Trainee Jo'. "It can't be far away now, can it? I mean, New Caledonia's not that big."
"Besides," came the Home Counties RP tones of someone who, with the inevitability of the passing seasons, rejoiced in the name of Araminta Twizzell-Pole (TwiZELL-Powell, she insisted, a pronunciation used by family members and precisely no-one else), "you're making an awful fuss for someone who didn't want to come, eh? Did this week's union not survive the first meeting?"
"Sod off, Minty, it was my study group and it finished early," Tessa grumbled. "And I didn't want to see you in a dancehall dressed as some sexist wazzock's idea of Aphrodite so you could flash your bits at any of the built ones."
"Y'know, if we join hands and chant in time, I'm sure we could call upon Mother Earth to guide us."
"Yeah, thanks for the input, Starlight." That came from Sam, the aforementioned very definitely man. His accent, one born of a Nigerian family and a Hackney childhood, was adept at making the word sound like 'earthworm'.
Starlight, as was her wont, just tossed her hair and wandered off, her enormous, billowing dress trailing seedlings of rare fruits. Jo caught up with her, the rest of the group wandering behind.
"Star, wait. That, that's actually not a bad plan."
"Thank you, Joanna, I know. Saturn is in the 8th house for the next fortnight, so my decision-making's getting a boost." They were the long, languid tones of someone who spent most of their days sprawled on a sofa listening to whalesong; the kind who thought thick ginger dreads looked really good against pallid skin.
Jo ignored the rest of her comment (ignoring Starlight was a skill one picked up over time) and concentrated, her hand on the floor of the corridor, arcane runes gathering around her in a maroon circle that slowly spread across the width of the corridor. She straightened and fished in a pocket for some herbs and, while muttering in Latin, blew them straight up into the air. When they fell, they formed bootprints on the ground... which promptly trudged off into the middle distance.
"Er, are we going to follow those?"
Tessa scowled. "No Minty, we're going to sit here and wait until it comes back with a chauffeur-driven bloody hovercraft. Jesus wept."
"Oh. But I thought you all didn't want me to ask Daddy for a lift-"
"We're following the footsteps!"
The six trudged off, Tessa in the lead. Jo could feel the pull of the spell like something tugging on her forehead, so she stayed at the back to make sure people didn't get lost. This meant she was next to the last member of the group, dressed as she was in a Dracula costume.
"Are you going to be okay, Sally? I mean, we've checked for allergies, and I can cast a detection charm for garlic, but it's more that... well, y'know... that I want you to have a good time tonight," she finished, rather lamely.
"It's fine," Sally replied. "One thing though."
"What?"
"Should the vampire have gone as Dracula?"
"You're not 'the vampire', Sally, you're my friend and you just have some problems." Jo's smile was bright and warm, and she accompanied it with a one-armed hug.
Sally's enhanced eyesight could see how shaky it was at the edges, and she didn't say anything.
"Aha! Got something!" Tessa's Northern twang cut through the quiet of the corridor.
"Tess, you okay?" Jo called. "What did you find?"
"Something on my scanner. Alcohol concentration. Been scanning for it since we arrived; big Halloween bash with students going? Got to be booze about. Long range, but we're closing in on it. Wouldn't have picked it up without your spell, though."
Jo preened a little, despite herself. "Thanks, Tessa."
About ten minutes later, and amidst plenty of chatting, the Southeastern University Amateur Heroics Society (minus faculty rep, who was attending a lecture on the importance of flans in Early Modern European warfare) arrived in the dancehall, just in time to see Michael's announcement.
"Ooh, he's yummy," Minty whispered, and tried to make a beeline for him.
"Make sure you use protection, Minty!" Tessa yelled. "You don't want to give 'im that weird rash you've got!"
"Thank you, Lenin, always an unutterable pleasure," grumbled a beetroot-red Minty as she came right back.
Sally tapped Tess on the shoulder. "Please not with the shouting, Tess," she said, "enhanced hearing over here." And with that she returned her hands to their position over her ears.
Jo decided to take charge of the situation, trying frantically to remember how the article she'd read online had said to do so. "Look. We know why we're here. We know that we're here. Let's just do what we came to do and-"
"Get plastered?" Sam cut in.
"... Yeah. Um, yeah, that."
And so the six made their way to the bar, whereupon Sam found they didn't have any lager and accidentally set fire to his nun costume.
Michael started, almost tripping on his billowy red cape. "What?" he asked, pushing his helmet out of his eyes. "What's the matter?"
"Fire!" Alleb yelped, pointing towards the bar. "Come on!"
The knight-turned-ballerina (who was surprisingly strong for her size) grabbed his hand and jerked him towards the emergency. Michael stumbled after her, his helmet sliding back down and his sandals slipping. "What a nice kickoff to the night," he thought gloomily.
((-Alleb))
It was at this point that Tessa started swearing inventively since Sam's costume had got the spiderwebs. The Goth fished around in her clutchbag and pulled out something that looked like pepper spray, if designed by someone who thought it should be able to fire whole peppers. She pointed it at the flames and pressed the trigger on the top, and it began to suck in the flames from various points in the room. This went well, even after it got clogged up with Sam's leg hair.
"Sorry about that," Jo said, trying on another smile. "Er. I think we're down as HeroSoc? Maybe? Minty, what did you book us as?"
"The Twizell-Pole party."
"... Of course you did." Jo fought the urge to roll her eyes and capitulated after valiantly struggling for a good few milliseconds. "Hm. I'm Jo, that's Tess, our resident nun's Sam, Sally's over there pouring ketchup in a bag of crisps for some bloody reason, Starlight's the one talking the ear off the barman about astrology, and Minty..." And here she winked. "Minty I believe you've met."
Minty glared at Jo for a second, then turned it into a gaze of frankly terrifying lust directed at Michael. "Ave, centurion," she said, managing to make it sound so filthy even ancient Romans would have balked at it.
Come to think of it, he did remember a voice suspiciously similar to the one making the introductions screaming across the room. What had she said?
But perhaps that wasn't important now.
"Wow, uh, quite a group you have here," he said nervously, nodding at the various members. "Very eclectic."
Alleb looked like she was in full combat mode, despite the tutu, glancing back and forth between Minty and Michael. "My name is Alleb," she said after a few moments, extending a very pale hand to Jo and smiling in a precise way. "We are very pleased to have you at our party. Have you enjoyed yourselves so far? Besides the fire, of course; for that we apologize. How did it happen?"
((-Alleb
This is going to be so fun; I can tell.))
Jo beamed winningly as she took the proffered hand. "And yes, we have. So far. I mean, we only just got here, so it'd be hard not to, right?"
"Sorry 'bout that, fam," Sam rumbled, patting out his costume. "I get pis-" He winced at the elbow in the ribs from Tessa, who made a subtle prayer gesture at Alleb. "-annoyed. Yeah. Um, very annoyed, and irritated. And that happens."
Minty, meanwhile, was content to take a delicate sip of something fruity and potentially lethal squatting in a martini glass. "Oh yes, I'd say we were eclectic. Indeed, we're quite the..." and here she stood closer and closer to him, oblivious to Alleb's glances and the barely-contained fury of her demeanour. "Proposition. Wouldn't you say...?" The pause was obviously there to let Michael give her his name, and then whatever else he might feel like giving her in a quiet spot.
Sally, meanwhile, could all but smell the Christianity on Alleb, and was content to stay as far away from her as possible. You occasionally got the religious nutjobs throwing bottles at your head, and holy water left burns like an acid attack on people like her. She smiled weakly at the barman and ordered a glass of Rioja, at least in part because drinking something at least a little bit red helped quell the cravings for some reason. That it came in what basically amounted to a bucket on a stick meant the barman had the same idea of a small glass as she did.
She looked on as Minty draped herself over that poor Roman legionary and went over to Starlight, who was fishing around in a pocket next to a nervous-looking woman with a militarily short blonde haircut and just so happened to be in the opposite direction. Thankfully, she'd moved on from trying to give the barman a healing crystal connected to the Moon, so that was something. It was also safer. No vampire wanted to be on the wrong side of someone with Alleb's level of faith, and if all else failed, the stoner was someone she could hide behind.
"I-- what-- why-- who--" he stuttered, red-faced. Under normal circumstances he was flustered around girls, but he'd never had one do that before. "I-- uh-- drink! I'll get a-- I mean get you a-- drink! Be right back!" With that he bolted to the bar, vaulted over (surprising the poor barkeeper, a man named Hoid) and began meticulously searching for a glass that wasn't right in front of him.
Alleb, meanwhile, had a very hard time not challenging Minty to a duel. "King Eliam, give me patience," she thought fervently. Rather than drawing her small dagger and attacking Minty, Alleb held out her hand, as she had for Jo. "Your costume is lovely," she said through gritted teeth and an attempted smile. "Did you make it yourself?"
((-Alleb))
"And your own attire is just so you!" Minty took Alleb's hand and gave it a demure, rather affected shake, and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.
"Nemo me impune lacessit," she whispered in the knight's ear.
Minty had superhuman strength, on the order of half a ton.
Minty did not like being insulted, whether or not it was by the girlfriend of who she'd been hitting on.
Minty had Alleb's hand in hers.
Minty squeezed.
Perhaps already having her teeth gritted helped, and Alleb managed not to scream. That didn't mean she wasn't hurt: on the scale of injuries she had received during her time as a Knight of Alleble, this one ranked third. The first was that one time she had eaten an entire pot of Elsbeth's stew: in fifteen minutes.
Her left hand, the one that didn't have at least one (more likely several) bones broken, immediately began moving for the murin steel knife she had stashed beneath her tutu. If she could score even a shallow cut on Minty's forearm, her hand would be freed.
But then a memory came to her: It was a scene from one of the famed Sir Aidan's adventures. The young knight had almost single-handedly destroyed Paragor's army, and rescued many hostages from Rucifel-- the Prince's second-in-command-- with only a handful of spiders and arrows.
That wasn't the part of the tale that came back to Alleb, though: what she recalled was when Sir Aidan and his friend, the Lady Gwenne, were trying to convince the king of Mithegard not to sign a treaty with Paragory. Rival knights of that kingdom, and, indeed, Rucifel himself, had almost convinced the king to agree. After Aidan was dismissed by the king, and on his way out of the courtroom, one of the Paragor's knights had shoved Aidan to the ground, jeering at him and prompting him to a duel. Sir Aidan had drawn his sword, intending to kill the knight: but instead he had offered it as a promise of peace.
Although her eyes were watering from the pain, Alleb offered her other, shaking hand. "In my defense God me defend," she answered.
((-Alleb))
In the manner of smart quipster heroes everywhere, Tessa's one liner only came after she'd fired her freeze ray. Minty was going to be stuck there for about ten minutes, assuming the molecular stability held up; if it didn't, well, it was probably because said artifact of weird science had previously been a hairdryer and bits of Christmas tree lights.
Tessa folded it up and put it back in the Clutchbag of Terror where it belonged. "Sorry about her, she's a bit... yeah." The Spectre of Friedmanist Economic Structures shrugged apologetically and skulled the rest of her JD and Coke. "You're not hurt, are you -- oh, Christ. Jo!"
Jo looked up, finally daring to remove her head from her hands. She looked over at Alleb, whose fingers were wrong, and she marched over, shoving the time-frozen Minty out of the way with a crash. "Put your hand on the table. It'll hurt, but I can fix it. Better than new, actually. Minty's a bit touchy sometimes, especially with a drink in her, and, well, bricks are a bit like that bollocks bollocks bollocks you didn't hear that."
With a wince and a barely suppressed groan, Alleb laid her crooked hand on the tabletop. Thankfully, the debacle hadn't attracted too much notice, although Minty's still form was starting to draw stares.
"Will she be alright?" Alleb asked.
((-Alleb))
Tessa shrugged. "Eh, I've been meaning to test this on something other than a car jack, but none of those melted or burst into flames since the most recent firmware update so she'll probably be fine."
Jo, meanwhile, had plucked a few of Minty's hairs from out of her unresisting head and was braiding them into a circle. She mumbled something in Latin, mumbled something completely different in Chichewa, and produced an enormous hatpin with ostrich feathers stuck to the top with blutack. "Yeah, I've had to bring out the big guns for an injury like that. This is really gonna hurt."
And with that, she promptly nailed Alleb's hand to the table with the hatpin and started chanting, grabbing what was left of Tessa's pint and pouring it over the wound as it bled. She then grabbed the pin with both hands and heaved it out of the countertop, spat in the wound, and upended a bowl of communal bar snacks on top.
Before the eyes of the onlookers, and there were a few, Minty's body always being able to draw a crows, the knight's hand snapped, crackled, and popped back into place. One by one, the salted peanuts nuts shot into the open wound and, while it probably burned like hellfire, it was obviously effective.
"There," Jo said, a trifle smug. "You don't get that on the NHS."
...and her threshold had nearly been passed by the injury to begin with.
As such, she howled like every wolvin in Yewland was after her.
"GREAT GALLOPING MOONRASCALS!!" she shrieked. This was like eating ten pots of Elsbeth's stew in fifteen minutes, then crowding all of the following agony into fifteen seconds. "WHAT IN KING ELIAM'S NAME DID YOU DO!? I--"
She cut off when she realized that, unlike a few seconds ago, she could move her fingers. She blinked a few times and tested further; she could curl and uncurl them, even make a tight fist. "What did you do?" she repeated softly.
Just then, Michael re-entered the scene, gasping and puffing. "I heard you scream," he said, doubling over and breathing deeply. "What happened?"
((-Alleb))
"Magic," she said, as if it explained anything. "Well, um, the only magic is stuff I'm not using, I just bartered away some food and beer for healing and used a lock of hair for warding courtesy of a different spirit. Not sure how well it's going to work, but hey, you might have a completely invulnerable wrist now. Or you might not. So don't rely on it when you do whatever it is you do."
Now, the reason she was staring with such fascination at the wall directly behind Alleb was that she was almost shaking with the effort of not giggling. Tessa had similar compunctions, and grabbed another beer off Hoid before sprinting over to Starlight and Sally, laughter bubbling up from inside her.
"Moonrascals?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "Really? I mean, lots of other words out there, fam, your mum ain't lookin' over your shoulder."
It didn't feel any different, but murin steel didn't feel much different from regular steel.
She lowered her hand and looked straight into Jo's eyes; it felt a little odd, since Jo was looking over her shoulder for some reason. "Thank you," she said. "If ever there is something I might do to repay you, I shall do it."
Hoping that her gratitude matched the act (which she still didn't understand; but she didn't fully understand electricity yet either), she turned and looked at Sam. Her lips quirked up a little, and her eyes glinted blue for a moment. "Perhaps she isn't," she said. "but my King most certainly is. And even if he weren't, my people don't have... what do you call them? Swear words. At least, not like yours does. 'Moonrascals' is about all I've got."
Michael, meanwhile, had caught his breath and calmed down, and was now watching Minty apprehensively. "How much longer till she moves again?" he asked, fear edging into his voice.
((It is, of course, possible that the Knights of Alleble have swear words, but since Agent Alleb comes from a Christian YA series, 'moonrascals' really is as strong as it gets.
-Alleb))
...Michael ducked out of the bar, straightening his cloak and helmet. "Thank goodness Alleb distracted her!" he thought as he fled towards the stage. "I'll make it up to her somehow."
-Alleb
"I'm just saying, it seems kind of unbalanced that we're both dressed as characters from your home continuum." He was currently wearing a short red wig and a tan Japanese school uniform; his conversation partner was a rather androgynous-looking man with dark skin and white hair, dressed in black body armor and a red overcoat.
"It was better than any of your ideas," "he" replied in a decidedly forced baritone. "I did say we could dress as Survey Corps members, but you shot it down."
"I get enough of that on missions, Nat," Aaron said sourly. "There wasn't anything wrong with my Firefly suggestion."
"There wouldn't have been, if you'd been willing to go as Mal. Simon and Zoe isn't a pair costume, it's just two characters who happen to be from the same show."
"I guess I just don't see how Shirou and Archer are any different."
"That's because you haven't got to Unlimited Blade Works," Natasha said firmly, reverting to her natural alto range. "Now come on. Let's enjoy ourselves."
((Aaron is dressed as Emiya Shirou, and Natasha is dressed as Archer, both from Fate/Stay Night.))
A slender young woman gently elbowed the man next to her in the ribs. She was pale and almost everything she had on her was black: the coloured contacts, the lipstick, the tank top, the jeans, the boots. The only exception was a silver Ankh pendant on her neck and silver brads on her belt.
"Will, I didn't believe you, when you said you had this in your wardrobe," she said, looking at the man, "and I still don't believe people would actually wear this on a daily basis."
"Whatever, Elvira," William replied. For the sake of the costume, he used Glamour to add more colour to his skin and turn his hair black. He was wearing a black Ulster coat with cape, and a three-piece suit underneath it. The entire outfit was completed with a top hat on his head and a fake carving knife in his hand.
He looked at VJ. "Besides, it was your idea. You kept asking me about Victorian era clothes."
"Hey, my idea was brilliant! Come on, can't you see it!? Jack the Ripper and Death?" she said, pointing from William to herself. "That's like the greatest combo ever! Even better than jam and bacon!"
William raised his eyebrow. "...Don't you mean eggs and bacon?"
"I know what I said. Now, follow me, Jack!" VJ faced her partner and took a comically exaggerated bow. "I shall point you towards your next target."
"You mean towards food?" The warlock rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless; she was having fun, who was he to deny her that. He followed the perky goth to the savory part of the buffet.
((The clickable names show you Will and VJ before and after putting their costumes on.))
...and then did her best to adopt a pose that gave off an air of casual superiority and made the cape-like part around her waist hang dramatically. Aaron, who was rather uncomfortably aware that his general behavior probably qualified as in-character, just smiled at them.
"You're Will and VJ, right? Nat's mentioned you before," he said.
"Let me guess... Death from the Sandman comics?" Natasha remarked, lowering her voice to an appropriately masculine timbre. "And... someone from Doctor Who? Or is it just supposed to be vaguely Victorian?"
VJ beamed at them, before jumping over to Natasha and catching her in a hug. "Well, almost... Will's supposed to be Jack the Ripper. And I follow him everywhere he goes. Ain't that topical?"
"The funny thing is, this actually was my favourite outfit, back in the day." William nodded to politely to Aaron and Natasha, turning to the latter. "Want me to fix your voice, love? Temporarly, I promise."
"Yes, very. Though I've seen Jack the Ripper, and she didn't look anything like William's costume."
"That's because he's basing his off real life, not your home continuum," Aaron interjected.
Natasha ignored this statement in favor of considering William's offer. "I might take you up on that, actually. I was going to use the disguise generator, but Aaron here felt too threatened by my raw masculine sexuality, so I had to resort to strategic padding and binding instead."
"Lies and slander," said Aaron, though he grinned good-naturedly.
"So how does this spell work, exactly?" she asked. "Are you specifically familiar with the vocal work of Junichi Suwabe, or is it more of a general thing?"
William raised his eyebrow. "Well, mine was a demon but still took a form of a little girl. That's actually a pretty interestin story."
"Which I'm sure we'd all wanna hear but, if you excuse me, there's a plate of carbonara calling me." VJ let go of Natasha and directed her attention to the food table.
Hearing Natasha's question, William shrugged. "It would be better if I had a sample, otherwise it's gonna be improvisation. I only know him as the Undertaker but I don't think that's what you want."
"Yours was also a little girl? In my version, she was the daughter of a prostitute, trying to return the womb where she last felt safe, but you could say that in the end she became something like a demon." She shrugged. "But yeah, I can find you some clips online." She dug into a cleverly-hidden pocket and withdrew her phone. After finding the clip she wanted, she tossed it to him. "As you can probably guess, it's the guy I'm dressed as."
William put the phone closer to his ear, trying to familiarize himself with all the little details of the voice Natasha desired. After listening to it three times, he returned the phone.
"A'right, I can do it. I'm goin' to give you a simple Glamour, like the one I'm wearin' right now." William pointed at his black hair and fairly normal skin. He waggled his fingers, and green flames crackled between them.
"You know, I could just coat your vocal chords... but I think I'll go one step further." William passed his hand by Natasha's throat and closed his eyes. He felt a surge of heat escaping his palm and coating the girl's neck. With one smooth motion he grazed her cheekbones, altering them, in order to accomodate to the new larynx.
"There. How does that sound now?" he asked after shaking off some excessive smoke from his fingers.
"Let's see..." She flinched momentarily at the unfamiliar voice coming from her own throat, but grinned at the overall effect. "Thanks, William. This is great."
"I stick by my earlier statement that using magic or the disguise generator is cheating," Aaron said.
Natasha smirked, clearly enjoying herself. "Your foolish ideals will bring you nothing but suffering."
"You realize she's going to be impossible all night, don't you?" Aaron remarked conversationally to William.
...wandered in several minutes after Michael's announcement. They were dressed in the red and black armor of Fire Nation royalty, and the taller male agent had a nasty-looking fake scar over his left eye.
"Ugh, this itches so much," he complained, reaching up to scratch at it.
"You're the one who wanted to go as Zuko," the woman beside him replied. "And stop picking at that, Zeb, I'm not helping you reapply it when you scratch it off."
"I'm not Zeb," Zeb said, drawing himself up to his full height. "I am Prince Zuko, heir to the throne of the Fire Nation, here to regain my honor! And you, Azula, shouldn't get in my way!"
The Aviator blew a strand of hair out of her face and rolled her eyes. "Sure, Zuko. Whatever you say." She looked around and sighed. "Let's get this over with."
"Wow, Azula, and here I thought I was the grumpy one," Zeb said, elbowing her.
The Aviator gave him the stink-eye. "I'm only here because you asked."
"You'll never have fun with that kind of attitude. Come on! Aren't you looking forward to the thing later?"
The Aviator shrugged unenthusiastically.
Zeb looked around and gasped when he spotted the food tables. "POFFINS!" He took off, dragging a resigned Aviator behind him.
A grey-haired old man (with a suspiciously unlined face) grinned at Zeb. He put his teapot--a rather non-Chinese-looking piece--down on the food table and hugged the Luxray. "You should have said you were coming."
He was also dressed in Fire Nation clothing, specifically the outfit of a general. He was plump in a way that spoke of lots of food (or a strategically placed pillow), and his voice was a little too high and soft for General Iroh's, though he did have the phrasing more or less accurate.
He was, of course, Dawn McKenna with a costume and Desdendelle's teapot.
There was a brief moment of confusion as he tried to figure out who was under the costume, then a broad smile spread across his face.
"Dawn!" he said, hugging her. "I mean, Uncle! How have you been?"
"Oh, look, if it isn't my fuddy-duddy old uncle," the Aviator said in a cold Azula voice, examining her nails. After a moment, she gave Dawn a wink.
Zeb stepped back, holding Dawn at arm's length. "Love the costume!" he said, still grinning.
(For anyone who's wondering, here's what Zeb and Ave look like.)
"Pity," she said, "I had a line ready to use and everything. Oh well." She grinned at Zeb. "Nephew, you look quite dressed up! Is there an occasion of which I am not aware?"
"Today is the day I regain my honor!" Zeb grinned and hugged Dawn again. "I'm afraid I won't be able to talk for long; I agreed to help the hosts with an event later this evening. But we can talk until then! How's your day been?"
She pulled away, then said, grinning, "Today I reconquered Ba Sing Se! And my tea shop! I'm sure you've noticed my teapot?" She gestured to it. "Actually," she added, "it's Des' teapot. It looks better, I've just got the electric type. I'm going to go around offering people tea! Isn't it neat? And my day's been fun! I get to pretend to be a firebender! I love costumes. And disguises, but *costumes*. Yours is great, by the way--pity I haven't seen an Avatar yet. Ooh! I should've come as Roku! My hair's long enough!"
"I dunno, you could've made a good Ty Lee." He paused, then grinned. "And I bet Des would have appreciated the costume, too."
"Um, uh, maybe next year?" she stammered. "Or, y'know, on Purim," she added, grinning. "That's sooner. So..." She gestured at the teapot. "Would you like some tea, or do you have some honor to chase?" She winked.
Zeb couldn't seem to stop smiling. "Who made it, anyway? Ooh--" He looked around. "Maxwell said he might be here tonight; maybe he'd like some!"
"Des made the first pot, I'll be making the rest. And hey--you can take a cup for him, unless you see him here right now?" She pulled a pair of small cardboard cups (patterned to look at least vaguely A:tLA canonical) from her voluminous sleeve and poured tea into one of them. "What would he have come as?"
"I saw one of his teammates earlier, she looked great. Maybe I'll ask her if he's here."
Dawn poured the second cup, and handed both of them to the Luxray. "Good luck, nephew! May you find what you are looking for!"
Zeb took both cups and, grinning from ear to ear, gave Dawn a farewell nod (seeing as a wave would be somewhat difficult at the moment). "Have fun! Maybe I'll see you later, huh?"
((Like so: http://i.imgur.com/1wywW.jpg))
