milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There is an glittery, glimmering, positively iridescent white cloud perched on the edge of the bar, its tail lashing restlessly this way and that. Having given up trying to keep the splashes of metallic-hued glitter from his fur, Yrael has turned his efforts towards working up a massive sulk.

The effect may be ruined by the occasional kitty sneeze - embarrassingly cute at the best of times - of silver and copper-hued glitter.

Yrael hates everyone in this bar.

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The cat looks up from it's dinner, licking it's whiskers in enjoyment of the free meal. "Most animals here talk, but most of them are human. The cats and rats only speak their own languages, and so often are overlooked."

"But yes, I am special, as you say," he grins a catty grin.

(ooc: Sorry for disappearing! I was on a plane.)

"Huh." That makes some sense, he supposes, given what the rats here do and the fact he's talking to a cat.

"Wait, are you being zoologic or do you mean that most of the animals here are people turned into animals?" Because while the one is technically correct, he's seen the other happen during Cubefall.

[ooc: No worries! I wrapped up at work and headed home. Hope you had a nice flight!]

"I am counting humans as animals," he clarifies, giving his head an short shake (and shedding glitter) before stepping back towards the plate of fish. "I have only known humans here to be turned into other animals quite temporarily, and generally by choice."

(ooc: One more flight to go, and I'm home! But flight delays are annoyyyyyyying.)

Edited 2017-09-14 03:30 (UTC)

"Gotcha." He gives a nod of understanding. "I'm sorta still new here so... "

Barry shrugs, then eats more noodles.

"So what makes you special, then?" he asks curiously.

[ooc: Ooo, yeah, they are. Here's hoping you will be on your way soon! <3]

(ooc: Finally home! About to crash for the night, too.)

"I," Yrael intones solemnly, "am not a talking ckk-!"

He is interrupted by a poorly-contained sneeze of ruby-red glitter, which gets everywhere.

Including in what's left of his fish.

"Blast it all beyond the final gate," Yrael hisses in a flare of irritation. "What person brought this acursed plague to the bar? No, what ill-begotten human invented glitter? No, either of them. Do tell me so I might go and bite them."

They've messed with his fish.

His. Fish.

Edited 2017-09-14 05:42 (UTC)

Barry reacts fast (perhaps a touch too fast), shielding his dish with his forearm and sliding it to the far side of his body, out of the path of that sneeze and glitter cloud.

"Gesundheit."

Listening to the cat rant, Barry is glad he is neither the person who brought in the plague, nor the inventor of glitter.

"Well I don't know where the cold started, but I think glitter has been in use since ancient times. On my world, at least. They probably used minerals like mica which has a cool basal cleavage that would probably make a really good glitter."

"Huh. Humans. Magpies with thumbs, all of you," Yrael mutters, blowing on his fish to try and get the glitter off. It is only a partial success, and he is left wondering whether it is worth continuing to eat it, and just damn whatever glitter is left. "Inventing useless things because they sparkle."

"Magpies?" he repeats with a laugh. "Well you know, they're actually pretty intelligent birds, and recent study shows they might even be afraid of shiny objects."

In case the cat was wondering about the science versus the stereotypes of certain avian species.

"Why don't you flip it over? Eat it from the other side," he suggests after watching the glitter fish plight.

"Fear of shiny things sounds like the right hallmark for intelligence, sure," deadpans the cat, eyeing its fish with all the scrutiny of a wreck-survivor trying to figure out whether they're likely to be able to start their car again.

But upon Barry's suggestion, he pauses.

Hopefully before the realization that he hadn't thought of that is too clear, Yrael remarks, "The glitter would still be there. I'd know."

But it's a good suggestion. Now how to get himself in a situation where he can be convinced to admit it?

"The other side would probably be glitter-free, though. Enough that I might still enjoy some of it, until I sneeze again, drat this cold."

"Well, they're still birds." He chuckles.

Can't raise the bar too high, right?

"Probably. And um, not to be gross, but you've probably sneezed on your food before and been fine with it. It's just this glitter thing makes it a lot more obvious."

The cat gives him a withering look. "Sneezing holds no potential for harm to me. The glitter is pure irritation, nothing more. The fish is flaky and soft and flavorful. Glitter is flat, angular grit. Bits of eggshell in your scrambled eggs, if you like."

"Gotcha." That is quite an unpleasant description.

Looking down at his own food, then back at the cat, Barry awkwardly asks, "Did you um, want another piece?"

He can't not offer.

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