A TRAIN COMES INTO THE STATION.
You wake up on a train.
Your phone is buzzing. It's in your pocket, in your hand, on the seat next to you. It's a normal phone, and you're on a normal train car. One of the lights flickers, a little further down. The world is very quiet. It feels like you're right where you're meant to be. On the phone's surface is a white screen and the words—
WELCOME TO THE CITY. BEGIN ORIENTATION?
▶ NO
Please take a moment to complete your orientation.
Once you're finished, the subway doors slide open to let you out onto the train platform. To your right, the platform continues on and eventually ends; to the left is a set of stairs that will lead you up into the station itself. The platform is quiet, clean, empty–there's no one else around, and the only sounds you can hear are your own footsteps, your own breaths, and the occasional faraway sound of a creaking pipe or rush of air. The train you disembarked will stay there as long as you do, its doors still open, until you finally decide to venture up into this new locale.
As you make your way up the stairs to your left, you find yourself in the belly of City Hall station. The station is large, a sprawling underground mini-metropolis of corridors and storefronts. Here, you may find others like you, freshly-arrived city residents from other realms (or even your own). There is also a subway map, which will give you an idea of the layout of the neighborhood, and ticketing machines, which can currently only be used to buy tickets to a handful of stations located on lines 1, 2, and 9.
If you're hungry or in need of any kind of supplies, there are plenty of storefronts inside the subway station as well—snack stands, convenience stores, restaurants, clothing stores, a pharmacy, and a variety of empty shops that may or may not have ever been in use. Everything is unlocked, and you can take whatever you need.
Characters may stay on the train platform indefinitely, and may re-board and re-disembark from the subway as many times as they like, but the train will not depart nor will the doors close. Once they go up the stairs into the train station, they may hear the train doors closing and the train departing. Another train will not arrive, no matter how long the character waits. Only once they come up the stairs into the station itself may characters encounter their fellow newly-arrived residents and take advantage of what the city has to offer.
JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS
WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD.
The station is located in the city center. It has three major exits that lead to areas of interest in the district, but there are several other smaller exits that lead in other directions around the neighborhood. You are welcome to use any of them, but may find the north, southwest, and east exits to be the most welcoming.
TO THE NORTH
The northern entrance to the station leads up into the sunlight and puts you out in a brickwork plaza. There's a modest building in front of you, three or four stories of stone with a welcoming facade. There's a sign above the entryway–it says City Hall. You may be tempted to explore, if you're interested in learning more about the city and how it functions, but prepare to find yourself disappointed–the folders in the records rooms are full of empty, blank sheets of paper, and the logbooks and balance sheets are similarly devoid of information.
Immediately to the west of City Hall, you will find a small building that houses the tourist information kiosk. The kiosk is not currently operational, but you may want to remember its location...
TO THE SOUTHWEST
The western exit of the station takes you up into a city park, lush and green with a very light fog still hanging about the trees. There are lampposts on the walkways and benches where you could rest, and plenty of flora, although you can neither see nor hear any signs of animal life. You walk the paths that meander idly through the verdant grass and you feel a sense of peace, some of your unease about this place easing into a pleasant calm. The air smells fresh, like it's recently rained, and you'll find the grass ever so slightly damp should you decide to take a seat.
As you make your way deeper into the park, the trees grow denser and the smell of soil and plant life grows stronger. This is the older part of the park, very nearly a forest, with ivy climbing the trunks of the trees and plants and shrubs growing riotously around their bases. As you turn a corner, you find yourself first in the statue garden, although the statues are harder to see now, choked as they are with ivy. There are many statues, some partially obscured, some fully–very few of them still stand free of the vines and clinging roots. (It doesn't feel quite as peaceful here.) If a statue's face looks a little bit familiar, you may not want to look at it too long.
Continue down the path and you will find yourself in a graveyard, one that seems centuries old. Most of the headstones are worn away by time and covered in moss, rendering them impossible to read. The few that are free of moss are blank, or bear only suggestions of names too faint to be understood. (Was that the name of–no, it couldn't have been. Could it?) Many of the headstones stand at an angle or are toppled over completely, having been subjected to either strong winds or the roots of the trees that grow up from some of the graves, spreading branches toward the sky.
TO THE EAST
The final exit of the station, to the east, puts you out on a quiet surface street. Are you hungry? Or are you paralyzed by choice? There are plenty of restaurants, offering options of almost any food you can imagine. You could try a convenience store–it's well stocked, and the items there seem free for the taking. How about a restaurant? There's no one to take your order, but when you look in the kitchen, there's something on the stove, and it's just what you've been craving. Imagine that.
A few blocks down, you come in through the lobby of a tall building and find yourself in a corporate office. The fluorescent lights are steady and unforgiving, and the cubicles and offices are empty. There are a few pieces of paper on desks, a few folders left in organizers, but everything is perfectly blank. Despite how empty and quiet the office is, it nonetheless gives you the feeling that just a few minutes ago, this place was bustling with workers going about their daily business.
You enter another building and find yourself in the lobby of an apartment complex–finally, a place to rest. The first door you try opens easily into a completely empty living room, freshly vacuumed but without a single piece of furniture. It's a nice apartment, quiet, but with a little too much echo for your taste, maybe. Still, and perhaps oddly, you have no trouble envisioning what life here would be like.
The second door you open leads to an apartment that feels lived-in. Why does it feel lived-in? It's fully furnished with items that seem to go together perfectly, true, but the feeling is more than that–the room feels like someone was just here, maybe standing right in the kitchen only moments before you swung the door open. The air is a perfectly comfortable temperature, and it somehow smells like home despite that you've never once set foot here before. The refrigerator is stocked, and the cabinets are full of spices and flatware and kitchen utensils.
As you look around the living room, you find that there are pictures in frames on the walls and some of the flat surfaces–a seascape, a field, a shot of a city park bench. In each of the photos there's something just slightly wrong with the angle, as though the photographer were aiming for a subject that can no longer be seen.
Characters are welcome to explore the district around the City Hall subway station to their heart's content. The City Hall building itself contains several floors of offices and file rooms, but none of them contain any particularly interesting information. Nonetheless, characters may wish to team up with other newcomers and try to find some hints about the nature of the city. They can also spend a while in the park, the statue garden, or the graveyard. In the blocks surrounding the station there are plenty of options for food and housing, as well as office buildings, storefronts, and alleyways to look around. There are no workers in any of the buildings, and there does not seem to be an honor system for payment, nor any consequences for taking food from the stores or setting up camp in an apartment or office building.
JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS
A WASH, ANYONE?
The coin laundromat is tucked into the first floor of one of the tall apartment buildings. Soap is complimentary, and while the machines say that they cost a quarter per load, in reality they are fully operational without any money being exchanged at all. If you have any clothes that need a wash, perhaps items that have been dirtied by your explorations (or your travels before arriving in the city), you may want to take this opportunity to wash them for free.
From the soap dispenser, you can retrieve packets of detergent in different strengths. There's plenty of stock of for mild to moderate grime and for heavy-duty stains, but there are also a handful of packets with slightly less obvious purposes. For things remembered, says one. For unhappy accidents, says another. Feel free to use whichever seems most suited to your needs.
When your laundry cycle has ended, the buzzer sounds and the door pops open so the clothing can be retrieved. You grab a laundry basket and reach in to start pulling fabric out of the machine by the handful. But wait a second–the more clothing you retrieve, the less familiar the items seem, and by the time you've retrieved the last bundled sock from the depths of the dryer you're absolutely positive: These clothes don't belong to you.
You're sure that you put your own clothing into the machine, but these are someone else's clothes entirely. Did someone sneak in while you weren't paying attention and swap out your laundry? Or did you accidentally open up the wrong dryer to retrieve the wrong load? Maybe you'd better look around at whoever else is in the laundromat with you and have a go at trying to find the owner of these clothes.
Whether the characters have had their clothing swapped or simply opened the wrong machine to grab someone else's laundry is up to the player's imagination, but one thing's for sure: you have someone else's clothes in your basket. Maybe these are clothes that belong to another character in the laundromat, or maybe they're garments that belong to someone that character knew back home. Players are encouraged to mess around with the premise and use it to get to know other characters!
JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS
COME ONE, COME ALL...
Have you ever noticed that flickering sign hanging in the window of that little building around the corner from the parking lot? The one that says PSYCHIC READINGS in bold neon lettering?
You step inside the shop and immediately smell a powerful combination of aromas: herbs, candles, incense, something spicy and warm underneath. It's a small space, cluttered with objects. A crystal ball covered in velvet sits in the center of a table, and there are tarot card sets and drawers full of dried herbs and flowers. On the shelves are various remedies with labels printed so neatly it's impossible to tell whether they're typed or handwritten. Headaches, or hemophilia, and also irascibility and fits of sighing. There are also jars full of less easily-identifiable contents, but a close examination may show you frog legs, fish eyes, rat tails. For some reason, it feels like sticking your hand in one of these jars might not be the best idea.
Toward the back of the shop is a glass case that holds the bust of a woman. As you approach, your movement triggers a light inside the case to illuminate the woman's face–or where her face would be, if she had one. The normal human features of her face are smoothed out until they barely resemble a face at all, with slightly hollowed divots for eyes and a faintly raised bump for a nose. The closer you get, though, the more strongly you feel that despite the absence of eyes, the woman is indeed watching you.
The lettering at the top of the case states FORTUNE TELLER, and a sign affixed to the front of the glass says, Ask for anything, but be careful what you wish for.
You form a question in your mind, then ask your question out loud. The woman shifts, straightening up, and you hear the faint whirring of clockwork and pneumatics moving inside her. She gathers her hands in front of her, cupping them like she's holding water, and strange light emanates from her palms, casting harsh illumination on the blank space where her face should be. Although she has no mouth with which to speak, you nonetheless hear a vaguely female voice intone, "Your fate has been read."
A paper slip emerges from a slot in the front of the case, your freshly-printed fortune, the ink barely dry.
Although the crystal ball will not actually show the future, characters with any kind of herbal knowledge may clock that the herbs and remedies in the drawers and shelves of the shop are legitimate. Characters can ask anything they want of the fortune teller, or make as many wishes as they like. They'll get as many fortune slips as correspond to the number of questions they ask. Players are encouraged to come up with whatever vaguely-accurate fortunes you think work for your character, but if you're low on ideas, you can always try an online Magic 8 Ball or fortune cookie generator.
JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS
WILDCARD.
The city is by no means small, and there are plenty of things for you to see. There's no rush in exploring, so feel free to take your time looking around and peering into various nooks and crannies and alleyways—and don't worry, you're not very likely to find anything peering back.
If none of the above prompts appeal, feel free to check out the Locations and Maps pages and write your own freestyle prompt using one or many of the available locations.
JUMP TO TOP ↑
|
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
citycenter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
citylogs2023-06-01 12:00 am
aerith gainsborough — final fantasy vii remake
( the grass is wet, her boots nearly sliding on it as it gives way to dirt and pebbles; there's a path here that she can see almost too easily, as though it invites her to trample along it. so far she hasn't seen much of anything, outside of the flowers in the park along her way here: she's clutching a handful of them, their stems all neatly cut, mottled together as though to ward herself from something with the weight and color of them. a new type of flower means a new addition to her tiny collection; wherever she ends up staying in this strange city, she thinks perhaps the flowers will be something of a peace offering between it and herself.
empty as it is of people, it seems there may have been people, once: perplexed, she stares at one of the statues, narrowing her eyes up at it through the thick ivy that climbs along its face and hair. in the end, she doesn't much like it--skidding back a step, she opts to continue along the path through the thick of it. statue after statue, some looking older than others, stare at her as she shrugs her shoulders up, walking with a bit of an urgency, the flowers clutched in her hands.
and just beyond the bend, looking up at another statue: it's the first person she's seen since arrival, and she's more than ecstatic to see them despite the statue garden all around. )
Oh! ( it's an immediate chirp of pleasure as she trots to close the distance between them. immediately, she holds out her makeshift bouquet to the person, the flowers all damp with dew. ) Here. Take one.
( there's a brief smile that she directs towards the stranger, curious. ) Normally I charge, but today they're on the house. Do you recognize this statue?
AN ORDER TO-GO.
( her stomach is quite adamant about getting something to eat--by the time she makes it through the doors of the restaurant, the bells tinkling above her with the movement, it feels like her stomach might claw its way out of her body in protest; lips pursed and eyes determined, she scans the interior, looking at the various empty booths, the carefully-wiped tables and chairs, searching for some sort of sign, some hint that she should seat herself or simply wait. in the end, she decides to do neither--darting forward, she finds the long counter that should, presumably, have the kitchen behind it.
stools line the counter, plush and brightly colored, and she leans her way in between two of them, squeezing in to stand up on her toes. ) He~llo~
( there's a dart this way and that: there are glasses behind the counter that she can see, a soda fountain machine, a cash register, a stack of menus; there are no people. determined, she arches up, laying her chest and stomach across the counter to try to look further. )
Can I order? Should I just go back there? ( there's a playful lilt to her voice: she can see the doorway behind the counter that should lead to the kitchen, but it's utterly silent. perhaps it's too early, and they're not open?
with a frown, she considers climbing over the counter entirely: but the bells ring again, signaling the door opening. curious, she glances over her shoulder at the new arrival. )
Helloooo?
CLEAN LAUNDRY.
That's my dress!
( the exclamation sounds pleased, almost relieved: inside the open door of the dryer, tumbled and soft, is her pink dress, a little wrinkled but no worse for wear.
a part of her feels terrible, leaning over a stranger to point out her own things; then again, when she'd opened the dryer door she'd used earlier and found, instead, a long blue towel and an oversized t-shirt with a bright picture of a yellow bird on it, she'd almost considered climbing right into the dryer herself. could there be some method of swapping things, like this? she has no idea how this city works at all.
standing there, barefoot, the towel wrapped around her waist and the tshirt hitting somewhere midthigh, she looks more like someone that just came from the beach rather than patiently waiting in the back of the laundromat.
with another bright smile, she points at her dress again. ) Sorry. Can I just take it? Or...
Were you wearing a dress like this, too? ( with a baffled laugh, she pulls at the front of her oversized, obnoxious tshirt. ) Or is this yours? Do you want it? I might be willing to part with it for you.
FORTUNE TELLER.
( it feels like a taste of her own medicine, in a way. there are often words that escape her lips that don't seem to make sense to anyone around her: and this shop makes little sense to her, outside of the herbs and the flowers and the cards. the drawers are full of things that she might use back home; the jars are full of things she would rather not use at all, and inspecting each one means immediately pushing it back onto the shelf with unease. something about the whole shop just feels like she shouldn't touch anything at all.
but the creature in the machine--she'd likely once looked like a beautiful, mystical woman, she thinks, someone with intrigue and possibility--is tempting. with a soft breath, she approaches the front of it, pressing her hands down against the front of her dress as though considering simply which question to pick from the mess of them clamoring for attention in her thoughts.
she goes with the simplest one, neat and murmured: ) Am I dead, then?
( almost immediately, a paper slip is jerked out from the front of the machine; aerith reaches down to take it with both hands, twisting and turning it nervously in her grip. her chin lifts, as though looking for someone else in the shop to help her--she isn't quite sure she wants to read this one herself. )
WILDCARD & OOC.
if there's something else you'd like to do with aerith, please hit me with anything! we can always plot something out via pm as well. would prefer to stick to brackets rather than prose, but other than that, go wild!
statue garden
Without hesitation, his expression shifts to something much friendlier, more open. It's only half an act.
There weren't that many folk here, and the bouquet she was wielding goes far in making a particular first impression. ]
Ah, then I thank you for your generosity, dear lady. [ He picks out a little red flower from her bunch, affecting a genteel if shallow bow as he does, and tucks the bloom in his vest. It works well enough with his whole aesthetic given the finery and excess of jewelry he favored.
That instant charm he'd turned on seems to slip only briefly as he glances back at the statue. It looks damn familiar in a way he wants to think he's drawing unjustified conclusions and he doesn't know why it has him anxious. Nothing has jumped out and tried to take a bite of him, and maybe it's just the lack of action that has him suspicious even of inert stone. ] And no, I'm afraid I don't.
[ He turns his attention back to her. ] I was just getting a lay of the land is all.
no subject
It suits you. I don't know what this flower is called, but...
( her head tilts--he looks a little more troubled, when he glances back to the statue, as though there's something about it that's unsettling. with a quick, worried glance, she risks looking at the statue herself; gratefully, this one doesn't seem too familiar, which makes her shoulders lift and fall with relief.
shifting the makeshift bouquet to one hand, she uses the other to gesture, gently, up towards the statue's face. )
Let's give it a story. What do you think? I'd say, this one is of a woman who once made the best fried rice in the whole world.
( there's a teasing, encouraging sort of smile, directed at her new companion. )
So, to commemorate her 50th dish, this statue was made in her honor..
clean laundry
Now he's standing here in an undershirt and boxers, a whole assorted pile of pouches and belts on the bench behind him, and a pink dress that almost certainly won't fit him in his hand. His ears flatten with agitation as he holds the dress out to the woman. ]
No.
[ To having a similar pink dress, to what she's currently wearing being his, or to wanting what she's wearing at all? All of the above really, but considering she also asked if she could have her dress back, an answer that is more than one syllable long probably would have been beneficial here.
The tip of his tail twitches in agitation as he squints at the other driers, trying to figure out what the hell happened to his own clothing. ]
no subject
carefully, with both hands, she reaches in to take the dress from him, bowing her head down slightly in gratitude. ) No? You don't like it?
( there's a soft smile, as she sets the dress on the table behind them: almost as though she isn't going to put it on yet if it's something he wants. instead, it seems like he's looking longingly to the other dryers, almost as though he's missing some article of clothing.
well, if hers ended up in a different dryer, then-- )
What are you looking for? I can help you find it.
no subject
His attention is off the dress the minute Aerith takes it back, and she's dead on about what's happening here. ]
It's not mine.
[ Was the main crux of the "no" there, and to actually provide a helpful answer to her question this time. ]
But this was the drier I used.
[ He moves to stand in front of the still open, but very empty drier he pulled that pink dress out of. There's certainty in that tone mixed in alongside the agitation. Sure, there are enough driers that in theory a person could have accidentally forgotten which one they tossed their things into.
But he's been sitting here this whole time on the bench right in front of the drier, so what the hell is this? ]
no subject
( there's no indication, of course, as to what she seems to mean by the it: instead, her hands clasp at her back, laced together as she offers a soft hum of understanding. whatever it is, be it the network of washers and dryers or some mystic part of the city itself, there's something at work here that she doesn't quite understand. it doesn't bother her too much: but then again, she's managed to find her dress.
with a quick glance between him and the dryer, she bring her hands forward again, clapping them together softly as though she's decided something herself. )
What were you wearing, before? We might be able to find it, and if not, I'm sure there's a clothing shop around here somewhere.
( with a patient smile, she nods to the rest of the laundromat. )
I'll stay and help you look! And if we can't find it, then I'll go with you to find something else.
no subject
No, the part of this that earns her a skeptical look is her volunteering to help him hunt down his clothing. She got hers now, so shouldn't that be good enough for her? ]
It's not a good use of your time.
[ If he's being honest with her. He wouldn't ask a stranger to help him hunt down his missing shirt and pants, just like likely wouldn't help the stranger either if he didn't happen to be actively holding her dress at the time. ]
no subject
You're in luck! I don't have anything else left to do, today. So...
( lifting one hand, she gives a slight twist of her index finger, as though curling it around in a circle. )
Can you turn around? Or close your eyes? I'll get dressed before we keep looking, so that I'm not getting anything in the way.
( honestly, she's grown up with much less privacy, so if he's too stubborn, she'll likely just change in front of him whether he wants to see it or not. her hands move down to the length of the towel, as if to give that indication. )
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
statue garden
Oh...!
(What she doesn't expect at all is to be offered flowers and she seems to relax immediately, shoulders dropping and even smiling (albeit, a little uneasily). Quietly,)
Thank you.
(Before she takes one though, she looks over at the statue in question. It's hard to tell. She doesn't think there's any reason for her to recognize it but for just a second. Just a moment... she thinks maybe... no. She looks away,)
... I... I don't think so.
no subject
with a brief shake of her head, she purses her lips together in agreement. )
I don't recognize it either, but...
( a soft laugh, her nose wrinkling as she looks back at her new companion. )
It feels lonely, in a way, doesn't it? Maybe we should pick a flower to leave it with, and leave the other ones with flowers, too. That might be a good use for them...
FORTUNE TELLER.
yet, she moves as if within a dream. her own powers are limited here and if this is an illusion, it is not her own and she is unable to break it. set's doing, she thinks, as if that will justify the madness of it all.
it is a lucky thing that isis has lived amongst mortals before, that she knows the importance of blending in to hide from ruin. so she is dressed not in the clothes she'd worn upon her arrival but something from a merchant she's seen others visit, her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. only her necklace is from her original ensamble, a semblance of home.
the fortune teller's shop was not her aim for the day but she is exploring, trying to find her bearings and feeling lost.
much like the woman who seems to turn to her, as if she can read the paper the fortune teller's given her. isis cannot, but her face melts from her icy frown to a soft, nearly motherly smile. she shakes her head. ] This is not like any death I know.
[ she is, after all, the wife of the underworld's king. no, this is not the duat. but the answer is not a 'no.'
isis holds her hand out for the paper, if it is help that aerith wants. ]
no subject
with another glance down at her hands, where the paper twists nervously between her fingertips, she steels herself with one long, slow breath. )
...What do you know of death? ( it isn't accusatory, but rather, soft and curious: could this woman be the owner of this shop? someone closer to such a realm? there's nothing like the lifestream here that she can feel at all. ) I'm...
Well. ( there's a soft laugh, as she sticks her hands out, placing the slip of paper neatly in the woman's palm. ) I don't know it very well at all, myself. Tell me if this is a good fortune, or a bad one...
TO GO!!!!
[ aaaand instead... a pink ass. ]
Oh! It speaks. [ the surprise on his features is playful and a sly smile follows, shuffling fully into the restaurant to come up to her side, resting his arm on the counter and leaning towards her. there's a sense that's strange — not human, certainly not that, but not full of curse energy either. what a fun little mystery woman. ]
Are you the waitress then? What are you going to suggest to me if I want something "refreshing" and "crisp"?
[ before she even gets a chance to answer, there's a universal ding! to signify order up and from out the window rolls a single cucumber. oh, haunted restaurant got a sense of humor, huh? Getou laughs out loud, thick and rich, taking it in good stride despite the... very many strange circumstances. ]
no subject
her gaze flicks, from his shoulder up to his neck and finally, curiously, to his face. )
I've been a waitress. ( matter-of-fact, like it's hard to place if she's lying or telling the truth; it doesn't matter, because the stranger's words encourage the ding of the window behind the counter, and the thick, rolling weight of one single cucumber.
she whips her head to look at it--and then back to the stranger--and then back to the cucumber. )
...No, we can do better than that! No. ( there's a bright laugh in her voice despite herself; she wriggles against the counter again, balancing on her toes. ) We want something "sour" and "bubbly"!
( it's like a game, waiting to see what comes rolling out of the window... )
1/2
Oh shoot— [ and maybe Getou could've once moved quickly enough to prevent three of them from careening right off the edge, but he's barely recovered from his mortal injury let alone had time to build up some of his strength and speed. he leans forward over the counter as she once had, thrusting his arm out to make a grab for at least one... but all three hit the ground, popping, hissing with a release of air pressure, sticky soda flying in all different directions. a sigh of defeat as he pulls himself back over the counter, pulling his hand back: splattered with blue all the way up the wrist. ]
Well... Can't say I didn't try. [ his tongue laps up the carbonated syrup in a stripe from the back of his hand— ]
no subject
[ cheeks hollow and his expression twists, eyes on the verge of watering. oh god oh god oh god why is it so sour ]
no subject
( well, a part of her almost feels sorry: this is kind of her fault, after all, and her companion doesn't really look like he should be out there vaulting over counters, desperate to grab cans before they hit the tiled floor. her hands clamor for the edge, digging a knee into the countertop to try to pivot her way across it, but much like him, there's just not enough time. one can hits, then another, and the air is filled with the sweet smell of soda and the pop-hiss-fizz of can lids cracking under pressure.
the unfortunate thing is that she's got too much momentum, by the time the second can hits the ground; at that point, most of her weight is already tilted over the counter edge, and rather than stop herself, she rolls, tumbling over the counter entirely to hit the ground on her side. the soda, of course, pooling all around the floor, is in vibrant, bright colors--she doesn't seem to care that she's getting squirted this way and that, her dress streaked with stray bits of soda.
instead, she settles in on the floor, legs tucked to the side as though this is the perfect place for a picnic--curiously, she picks up one can, immediately cracking it open the rest of the way so that it stops flicking soda into her face. )
What's a... Warhead? Oh, Warheads. ( beaming, she looks over to the man: but his expression is twisted, almost like he's choking. ) Oh! See!
( she wriggles the open can up at him, pointing to the picture on it. )
You look like this guy...!
no subject
[ was it worth it ]
[ Getou could've stopped her, probably, or at least done the polite thing and made a show out of trying — but she doesn't look too hurt or offended about where she's wound up or how she's suddenly wearing a sticky jackson pollock. were he in possession of cheek muscles not currently preoccupied with a citric acid seizure, he might've even smiled and laughed about it. ]
[ as it stands, he... has a face currently going to war. is that where the name comes from? it takes everything in him and a few tears glassing up his eyes until it passes, his head turning to the side to spit: plgheh, plbbt pto pto, until he pants and sticks his tongue out with a sigh like an overheated dog that finally got some relief. ]
Ah yeth, I can thee the likeneth. [ a mix of sarcasm and resignation. her casual insult slides off his back like rain as he extends that one hand to help her back to her feet. ] Better than you look. Let me guess... fingerpaint and mud pies as a kid?
[ there's a knowing fondness to his voice that speaks of personal experience, more genuine than what's come before it. ]
no subject
the ground is sticky--and slick, beneath her boots, so she doesn't try to vault or tumble over the counter. rather, she leans into the other side of it, nearly face to face with the stranger; it gives her a chance to get a really good look at him, like this.
her lips purse together; he looks tired. )
Fingerpaint, yes. I didn't have a lot to do, though, so... Limited-resources-kid.
( with a soft laugh, she puts her sticky hands on her hips, twisting slightly on her heels to give a glance at the kitchen behind her. something about it feels eerie, even if the lights are all on. )
Do you want to take a look, with me? I don't know that I want to go alone, but...
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
An order to-go
Neat! [ He didn't seem aware he said that out loud. He was just glad someone was watching!
He stood in front of the door, cleared his throat, puffed up his bare chest, and let his cape of feathers spread out to one side of him, catching the light and slightly tinting it in warm colors. ]
Have no fear, puny mortals, Rakan is here! [ He spoke with bravado, he spoke with confidence, he spoke with cheer and excitement. It took more effort than usual for him to just. Hop up onto the tables. Normally it was an effortless thing, but being here felt like such a drag. Even so, he still made the effort to do so, because that's just who Rakan was.
His balance, at least, didn't seem to be affected, so he could still leap from table to table on the way to the bar counter. Whereupon he'd quickly whirl around to lay on his side, prop one leg up, and slide a lovely red flower--one he'd picked prior in the park--between his fanged teeth.
With his cheek was propped up on the knuckles of one hand, he'd waggle his brows at her. His free hand then offered the flower to her. ]
You come here often?
Normally I'd ask if you'd like to, but I'm hungry and I don't know what half this stuff does.
So you know what, can you just sort of show me where the food is? I want some meat and I can't find ANYTHING in this place!
no subject
by the time he ends up at the counter next to her, her mouth is parted into a soft 'oh' like she can't quite believe his antics. where did that flower come from? does she really want to take it?
with another soft laugh, she reaches forward with one hand to gently pluck the flower from him with a nod of thanks. )
This is actually my first time, so I don't...really know how to help. But!
( she wags the flower at him, offering a mischievous smile. )
Let's see if it works. Abracadabra, five, seven, three! Meat, appear, and make it juicy!
( --there's a ding, from behind the counter, and a plate appears, pushed into the window. it appears to have a nicely cooked steak, as well as mashed potatoes and asparagus; she flicks the flower towards the plate, then back towards the man. )
Go to the window and take it!
sorry for delay, work had me tired yesterday :p
A lady after his own heart. Too bad for everyone else, his already belonged to Xayah, but that didn't mean he couldn't still play! Especially if they're willing to play and have fun with him, too.
She teased him with the flower, and he quite quickly perked up to roll onto his belly, whereupon he could prop his elbows up on the counter and hold his jaw in his palms(this also meant maybe his knees were on the mixing counter behind the bar but what was important here was his utmost attention). The ding that followed her chant made his fuzzy, feathered ears flick back.
Initially, he just glanced over when the smell caught his nose, and there was a split-second where he was about to go back to cheesing it in front of her, but his brain caught up with him in that moment, and he did a double-take, nearly flipping himself off of the countertop from how quickly he tried to spin around and get a proper look. ]
Hold on, what! Talk about a party trick! [ He barked with an exuberant laugh, and dashed over to the plate to scoop it up in both hands. On his way back, with a little boost of a foot-stool behind the counter, he hopped back up to sit in front of the woman, moving himself to let his scaly bird legs dangle over the front. ]
And just where have you been all my life? [ He'd lean forward and take a deep breath of the flower and let out a content sigh. ] To think I had such a handy little flower tucked away in my pocket this entire time.
no worries, take your time!
she watches him, carefully, as he makes his way over the counter for the plate. nothing terrible seems to happen when he takes it--there's no other movement, no one that comes out of the kitchen behind him, and in the end, he gets a plate of good food with no consequences. as he takes a seat on the counter, she beams a smile up at him, pleased. )
Maybe you just have to learn how to use it. ( she wriggles the flower at him again with a laugh. ) Tell me how it tastes, okay?
( her gaze flickers back to the order window, then up to him: and with another flick of the flower, she says-- ) For me, I want.. A glass of iced tea! With a lemon slice!
( eagerly, she leans against the counter, waiting for the telltale ding! before a glass appears in the window: with another laugh, she claps her hands together. )
It really works...
no subject
Rakan's better, though. Definitely. [ He is, at first, watching her use the flower again, this time paying a bit more attention to the process since he heard her start up her chant and flower movement again. The way he held his head stiffened a bit with his curiosity, and his eyes flickered from flower, to counter, to her, to the flower, the floor--but then there was a glass!
His lips peeled back into a toothy grin, and a small chuckle bubbled from his nose, if only because she was so delighted, and it was adorable to see. It, however, faded quickly as he looked from the apparated glass to the warm plate in his lap.
He stared intently at the plate, as if looking for something that he just wasn't finding. ]
Uh-- [ It stumbled out of his mouth, almost as a sputter as he lifted the plate up to look under it and on either side of it. Nope! Nothing. His tail thumped at the counter, making a soft hollow little sound when it bumped gently against the wooden panels. It smelled normal, looked normal. He gave it a cursory lick, and it tasted normal, but as he set the plate back in his lap, his head still cocked back as if he were a child looking suspiciously at a stinky, steaming pile of broccoli. ]
Hey I know you're a human and all, but like. Didn't you just sing to these? [ The term was used...extremely loosely here, but Rakan tended to give humans benefit of the doubt with these things. She tried, and that's what mattered to him. But even so, as he literally saw her singing some strange little melody before the food apparated, he could hear no echo of the play and affection Aerith chanted with coming from it. The steam was supposed to twirl and dance as it rose, not just. Rise like some lame pillar. There was no rejuvenating or homely feeling coming from this food. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)