(OPEN) Gregor Samsa's no good, very bad week.

[blattella]

WHO: Gregor (blattella) & you! you! you! you! you!
WHAT: having a bad time around the city, exploring, being a menace.
WHERE: all over the city! City Hall, the train tunnels, and anywhere he can find clothes, namely.
WHEN: 17/07 onward.
WARNINGS: insectile body horror's the big one! bugs, body horror, buggy body horror.

Comments

look he just picks up what kaveh's putting down! he's got the vibe...he understands, maybe...

[blattella]

[Ah, a brace........He notices the gesture, but his brain isn't really in the right state to go doing something proper and normal like thanking Kaveh for saving him from falling ass over tit. Later. When he's kind of functional. Promise.]

Right? And the alcohol thing-- It's human morals. Societal morals. Anti-violence, anti-crime. No weapons allowed, unless they're part of us. [He inclines his head at his claw, mouth thinning out.

Or is it because the way that Kaveh looks him over, despite being decidedly platonic, still makes Gregor uneasy somehow? Both? Perhaps both. At least he's still willing to cooperate, going by the way he draws back up to bear his own weight again, obediently shuffling around to stand by his shopping buddy like a lost child.]

...I think there's a lot of stuff that newcomers need to know, and if we get more, then we could get them caught up to speed easily by just showing them reading material. I, uh...Haven't thought about the how, bar knowing the way I'd do it on my own is kind of basic. Just a post every month, or every few weeks at least, so everyone can compile what they know...It'd get lost. We need something that trims out all the debate and chit-chat, and just states what we've discovered.

I'm no good alone. I need help, but I don't know how many people I should rope in, or who, or anything. Hah.

he's got it right tbh, and sorry for the delay! work busy's over, so i'm back, cracks knuckles

[fussiest]

[ unless they're part of us, the man says. well, that's understandable enough, kaveh thinks. you couldn't separate tighnari from his fangs; it follows that the claw has similar ability for self-defense. the wry twist of the man's lips, however, lingers. it's the kind of thinning of a mouth that suggests the unsaid is something that you have to bite down with teeth, like a spent bullet casing or the taste of blood. kaveh considers the premise: what does it mean when someone considers their weapon a part of themselves? at what point do you attribute your identity to the weapon, or to yourself? at what point do you become the weapon?

cyno and hermanubis.

but the man follows, and kaveh takes him to a rack of long jackets. he begins to sift through them with a critical eye, glancing back once in a while to observe the colour of the man's hair. ]

None of us are any good alone. People in general aren't. [ is what kaveh says, agreeing with a soft lilt to his lips. ] That's why other people exist. It's enough that you have a starting point - all ideas must germinate from somewhere. From there, it's a matter of passing it through many hands for it to sprout. Hm, let's see here... Ah, I knew it. Something with a bit of a low collar will do. You have a nice line to jaw. People ought to be able to see it. [ the jacket that kaveh holds up to the man is a pale thing, with the long, sleek lines of a minimalist design. it could use a bit of embroidery, kaveh thinks, but it's passable.

he hefts it in one arm, and continues his foray. ] Anyway, I think the idea's a good one. If it's merely for information dissemination, what about a publication of a sorts? Something paper-based so that it's easier to pass around, without it being reliant on the network. That sort of thing passes censorship better, if it doesn't get garbled to nonsense, that is.

Oh. Do you have a favourite colour?

NO WORRIES.....i know how tf it be. take care of ur irl first and foremost always X(9

[blattella]

Yeah, I know. And it's not even my idea, just that--

['I'm so used to being alone that I talk that way.' But he bites it back and watches Kaveh rifle through the jackets instead, quiet for a good few seconds.] --I'd be worried about any collaborators, or the guy who really pushed this into being in the first place, not being able to change or access it. And printing out...I don't know if this place'd let us print anything useful. I'm sure I've seen printers, and all the blank paper, but I'd worry about how far censorship'd go down, and how rapidly we'd need to update stuff.

[It's all good points, nonetheless, and something he tucks away to try later just to see if he's right at all or not. He'd like to be wrong.]

...Is it still going to be alright if I tear one sleeve off? [He's always been too afraid to tear the sleeve off his work jacket, and anything else with long sleeves has been his to modify, or something temporarily manifested on him and therefore Not His Fucking Problem At The Time. But there's an aesthetic balance that's beyond him, so best to check.] Or roll it up, I guess. I could probably work it over my arm if I was careful.

Thanks, by the way.

...For saying I got a nice jaw. You'd have a field day with my co-workers. [Gacha casts.......sigh] And no, I don't really think I got a favourite colour. I don't really like blue, though.

[fussiest]

[ the beat of silence implies something unsaid, though kaveh couldn't guess where the words begin and what form and shape they ought to take. but people are much like that, kaveh thinks. in a situation like this where primary occupations have been tossed out the window and there's an entire empty world spanning ahead, that's all they have time for: to think, to ruminate, and to let these ideas spiral. kaveh knows; it's why his hands can't remain idle, or that self-same gap is one where kaveh will too exist in in a form a little too much like himself, a little too much unlike himself. but day threes are much like this - post-modern, with even the clothes on kaveh's back seemingly searing themselves into the very palette of his skin.

coworkers, the man says. kaveh considers this. ]

Well, there's no need to tear anything off. If we find something you like, I'll have it tailored for you. [ the jacket goes flopping over a rack that kaveh mentally calls 'keepsies'. he pulls another jacket out, this time in a dark shade of red. ] It's too bad that my tailor didn't come around to this city with me - he's a peach, very skilled, keeps threatening to never tailor anything for me again because he hasn't ever stopped complaining about how my torso's just a little too short and my arms are a little too long, and I think he'd rather I just never show up at his door again. [ hm. the red jacket gets put back. ] Still, he's a miraclemaker, and I've managed to learn a thing or two just listening to him.

So if you're used to tearing the sleeve off, then other people where you come from don't have a limb like yours? And why don't you like the colour blue?