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milliways_bar2014-12-09 12:35 pm
nepetaleijon) wrote in milliways_bar2014-12-09 12:35 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
[Out of Milliways, Sort Of:
We have all seized the white perimeter as our own
and reached for a pen if only to show
we did not just laze in an armchair turning pages;
we pressed a thought into the wayside,
planted an impression along the verge.]
Outside, snow lies thick on the Milliways grounds. Or at least that part of the Milliways grounds that includes the entrance to the Labyrinth.
It's some distance from that entrance, though, where there seems to be a stirring under the snow. As of something -- or someone -- burrowing up through it.
The head that emerges in a shoosh of scattered snow is possibly familiar to the casual viewer, although less so than usual: the blue fur hood is gone, replaced by a thicker tawny-brown fur hood with tufted ears. The bright eyes that blink up at their surroundings from under the hood, though, are cheerfully yellow as ever.
"We made it!"
[Three pups, three muns, tag any or all! Open until it scrolls. Slowtime is love. ETA: feel free to tag any or all of the trolls after they have arrived in the bar!]
We have all seized the white perimeter as our own
and reached for a pen if only to show
we did not just laze in an armchair turning pages;
we pressed a thought into the wayside,
planted an impression along the verge.]
[text-only version here]
Outside, snow lies thick on the Milliways grounds. Or at least that part of the Milliways grounds that includes the entrance to the Labyrinth.
It's some distance from that entrance, though, where there seems to be a stirring under the snow. As of something -- or someone -- burrowing up through it.
The head that emerges in a shoosh of scattered snow is possibly familiar to the casual viewer, although less so than usual: the blue fur hood is gone, replaced by a thicker tawny-brown fur hood with tufted ears. The bright eyes that blink up at their surroundings from under the hood, though, are cheerfully yellow as ever.
"We made it!"
[Three pups, three muns, tag any or all! Open until it scrolls. Slowtime is love. ETA: feel free to tag any or all of the trolls after they have arrived in the bar!]
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"AND I'M BLIND."
He wallows inexpertly in the snow, his mobility hampered by a dark-red jacket of flexible armor plates and leather.
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"I Will Admit, The Weather Is Rather Harsh," because even the desert dweller is squinting in the face of the sun against the snow. "Is Everyone Okay?"
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She looks around doubtfully. "Meowbe we should go inside?"
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And lucky is certainly the word Karkat would use to describe himself at all time.
"IT IS TOO COLD TO EVEN BE SARCASTIC ABOUT THAT OBVIOUS SUGGESTION, THE SARCASM WOULD CONGEAL AND FLOAT TO THE TOP OF THE CONVERSATION."
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And starts to wade through the snow in the direction of the bar.
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"I Would Have To Check The Date In The Bar, But I Believe We Should Be Around Midsweeps Eve. The Weather Certainly Matches."
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After another faceplant:
"THAT'S IT, I'M GOING TO DIE OUT HERE. JUST LEAVE ME. LEAVE ME BEHIND AND COME HARVEST MY CORPSE LATER ON FOR A FRESH SUMMER WARDROBE. OR FASHION MY CARCASS INTO A TOBOGGAN AND SAVE YOURSELVES."
"JUST PROMISE TO AVENGE MY DEATH ON WHATEVER MAGICAL ASSHOLE DECIDED TO MAKE IT BE FAKEASS WINTER ON AN ASTEROID. THE WEATHER HERE IS MADE-UP AND FRAUDULENT AS SHIT IN THE FIRST PLACE, SO WHY WOULD YOU MAKE IT BE LIKE THIS IF YOU HAD THE OPTION? SOMEONE IS TO BLAME AND THERE MUST BE A RECKONING."
The fact that this monologue is delivered face-down in a pile of snow probably robs it of its proper weight. Or comprehensibility. Propping himself up on his elbows:
"WAIT, WHAT ARE YOU SAYING ABOUT HOLIDAYS?"
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"Mid-Sw33p's Eve? I think you're right, Kanaya. Do we want to do anything special fur it?"
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"Other than that, I don't see anything wrong with doing things like we did last time?"
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However, Karkat's holiday-related grumblings are all, as usual, firmly shoved down the
turkeymemory hole.no subject
....is what you'd be hearing if these were proper dogs. But they're not, because alien invasions suck when you are not the alien doing the invading, so they're a small cluster of largely silent three-legged blue striped ham creatures full of eyeballs. All charging across the landscape at top galumphing speed over to make wriggly hellos.
(They're not alone, but the human following them isn't quite as fast as they are.)
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Nepeta's high-speed hellos tend more toward the nature of pouncing than galumphing, though.
"Hi, Sheppurrd!"
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Of course Karkat has a chair with him. Unlike everyone else ever, he happens to make a practice of captchaloguing items which might be convenient on a day to day basis.
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"We're good! We've just b33n in the Labpurrinth on a quest to relocate the Consorts."
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"Hello, Shephard!"
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It is a bad decision for everyone--Karkat has a lot more sharp corners than he did before the turtles made this jacket for him.
"YES, THE ECTOBIOLOGY EXPERIMENT GOT WILDLY OUT OF HAND BECAUSE SOME NUMB FUCKS WHO WILL REMAIN NAMELESS YET ENTIRELY OBVIOUS TAUGHT THE TURTLES HOW TO OPERATE THE MACHINERY AND THEY RAPIDLY WENT FROM 'VIRTUALLY EXTINCT' TO 'LITERALLY EVERY WHERE'."
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"Well, It Gives Them A Place To Stay, And Keeps Them Out Of Karkat's Hair."
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This is debatable.
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In The Bar
A large cup of Troll coffee--oily, scalding hot and mostly tasteless--is clearly in order. The red armored jacket he drapes over the back of his chair to create a large, inconsiderate puddle.
Re: In The Bar
Mmm, Purrl Grey.
Re: In The Bar
It's not a new observation; he's made it about once a day since they encountered the lynx. It's because he resents how
ridiculously adorablewarm it looks.Re: In The Bar
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It doesn't look like anything special.
"WE ARE GOING TO HAVE GET SHOVELS FROM THE BAR OR SOMETHING IF YOU EVER EXPECT TO MAKE IT BACK TO YOUR CAVE IN THIS. IT IS NOT SO BAD DOWN HERE BY THE BAR YET SOMEHOW HALFWAY UP A MOUNTAIN IT IS SUDDENLY ATROCIOUS."
"WE SHOULD NOT HAVE LEFT THAT WINDOW OPEN, I WONDER IF SNOW HAS BACKED UP INTO THE FORGE. OR IF IT IS JUST TUMBLING SEASONALLY ONTO THE VARIOUS HORRIFIC ORIFICES OF THE HORRORTERRORS."
Re: In The Bar
She doesn't sound like the prospect troubles her, though.
Re: In The Bar
He takes a deep draught of coffee. "MAN, I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW MUCH I AM FEVERISHLY ANTICIPATING GETTING TO GRIPS WITH THE CHALLENGE OF SOMEHOW GETTING TO SLEEP WITHOUT THE ENDLESS YAMMERING OF AN ARMADA OF REPTILIAN LACKEYS."
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Re: In The Bar
"...OK, NO, SHUT UP, I THOUGHT IT WOULD MAKE ME FEEL BETTER TO GROUSE AND COMPLAIN AND ACT LIKE I WON'T MISS THE DUMB FUCKHEADS BUT NEVER MIND, ABORT."
Re: In The Bar
She looks downcast on his behalf for a moment, then leans over and bumps her head against his shoulder.
Re: In The Bar
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Nepeta starts giggling.
Re: In The Bar
"MY INANE BUMPKIN 'CHARACTER' IS LITERALLY BRISTLING WITH PLOT HOOKS LIKE A GODDAMN NARRATIVE SEA URCHIN AND YOU GIVE ME ABSOLUTELY NOTHING."
Re: In The Bar
"The mighty huntress looks down her noble nose at the humble furmer," she says, "and declawrs 'There comes a time, sir, when avoiding all risk is no longer an option.'"
Re: In The Bar
"MAYBE UNDER THE CLOAK OF MY AGGRAVATING HUMILITY MY GUY ACTUALLY HAS, I DON'T KNOW, SOME KIND OF UNSPOKEN FUCKING MAJESTY AND IMPERIOUS GREATNESS. LIKE HE'S SOME KIND OF HOLY WARRIOR WHO HUNG UP HIS SPURS AND FUCKED OFF TO FARM ALGAE BECAUSE HE HAS SEEN TOO MUCH. THAT SOUNDS GOOD."
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"'For well I know,' the huntress continues with a knowing smile, 'that befur you retired to this fungus farm to s33k a simpler life, you were a rawrrior of great renown...'"
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"BUT I AM DOING IT ANYWAY, SO CLEARLY I HAVE SEEN SOME SHIT. SO YOU CAN TAKE YOUR BLANDISHMENTS AND WHATEVER LAST JOB YOU HAVE COME TO PREDICTABLY DRAG ME OUT OF RETIREMENT TO PURSUE AND SHOVE THEM FIRMLY UP THE HOLE OF WHATEVER APPROPRIATE HOLIDAY RAPTOR THIS ILL-DEFINED SETTING CONSUMES."
Re: In The Bar
... once she figures out what it is, of course.
"Which, the huntress adds slyly, I may not yet reveal to you. But dawn is coming, and I must impawse on your hospitality for the day."
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"OR..." Karkat wrings a hand over the back of his neck, doing a dead-on roleplay characterization of a huge fucking weenie who gets awkward and acutely self-conscious when even the possibility of things taking a PG-rated direction crosses the boundary of adolescent surmise.
"I GUESS YOU COULD STAY IN MY DEGRADED YOKELGARRET, IT IS PROBABLY... MARGINALLY LESS SMELLY." Oh yeah. There's the sweet talk.
Re: In The Bar