robbies: (Default)
TRANQUILIZERS ([personal profile] robbies) wrote in [community profile] logsville2020-12-01 06:00 pm

DECEMBER 2020 EVENT - PART 1


CHAPTER ONE, PART 1: A HOLLY JOLLY HOLIDAY

Do you hear what I hear?


DECEMBER 5th | A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE | THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...

DECEMBER 5th

Don’t you hate to be the last to know?

Out of the windows of your brand new homes, you spot families trotting along in their happy, nuclear units. Stores and restaurants have closed early—on main street, where jingle bells hang from every door, the only souls to be seen are heading toward the town hall, where wreaths hang around the stone lions’ necks. A stage, awash in string lighting, has been erected with three chairs sitting empty behind a podium. Policemen with their smiles and baby-blues stand guard before it; they too are not allowed beyond the velvet ropes. Twenty feet tall—near to reaching the tip-top of the clock tower—a mass is hidden by black tarps. This is the most guarded of all, ringed by no less than twelve junior policemen standing vigil around the clock.

At sundown, you start to see what’s to come.

As the crowd swells, bundled in their coats and scarves, the ladies with silk scarves drawn around their perfectly coiffed hairstyles, three figures take to the stage:
Chief of Police, Dale Harding, who must constantly slip away and bend his ear to listen to one of his boys, giving orders with long sighs, firm words, and grumbles as he takes his seat again. Occasionally one sees a flash of silver moving from his lapel up to his lips, but surely that must only be his policeman’s badge that he kisses, because he loves his town so very, very much!

The Happy Homes Association—or at least, their junior representative. Her bright and shining pin of office sits hidden behind the tremendous fruit basket poised upon her lap, where green and scarlet cellophane cannot quite hide the fruitcake inside the way it does her name. How does she keep her teeth so white and her lipstick so clean and red? Subscribe to their newsletter and read Cathy’s Cosmetic Can-Dos! column to find out!
Mayor Phillip Clarke—well, Phil to his friends. He takes his place at the podium, his top hat inky black, leather gloves oiled and bright, and draws all the town’s breathless attention. He taps the microphone. Once—the crowd inhales—twice—their eyes shine as they look up—three times

“Gooooood evening, Santa Rosita!”

The crowd goes wild as Clarke bellows. Eventually, he raises both arms and gestures for them to quiet down.

“I want to thank each and every one of you for coming out, especially on a school night!” Like the admonishing parent, he wags a knowing finger at several teens in the crowd. “Believe you me, on a night like this, I know how tempting it is to stay home and curl up on the couch with a good book. And,” he adds with a wink to a woman in the front of the crowd, “maybe some of Margie's famous hot chocolate.”

Laughter ripples through the crowd. Again, Clarke patiently waits until they’re finished before continuing, “But that's exactly what makes our little town so special. No matter the time, every day of the week there's always someone out there who will sacrifice something for the better of the community. Be it the energy to get this terrific tree set up—” he gestures to the tree, “—the patience to string twenty yards of lights up—which, I might add, have been generously donated by our pals at Honeybees—or even just time.”

Clarke’s tone turns solemn, but his face remains fixed in a winning smile. “Santa Rosita isn't just a town. It's a family. Each and every one of you out here tonight is a valued member. Even all you new faces out there!” He points to several newcomers in the crowd in what might almost be an accusatory manner if not for the smile on his face. “Don't think I can't see you! Tonight, you have become part of that family. Santa Rosita is your home now. It's through our traditions that we endure, and it's my sincerest wish that you, all of you, will join together with us and help us keep them alive for years to come.”

The crowd applauds, everyone turning to face the new families. As Harding takes a swig from a flask he pulls out of his pocket and the HHA representative continues to beam at the audience with her too-white smile, Clarke fully turns to the tree and pumps his fist in the air, riling the crowd back up.

“And now, without further ado, let's RING. IN. THE HOLIDAYS!”
As his words come to a close, at last the tarp is pulled away—revealing twenty feet of pure, polished, brilliant...

...aluminium christmas tree.

Quick as the busy bees they are, the Happy Homes Association is there to announce that you can buy both table-sized and home-use duplicates for your own homes! The cost is $8 for the little ones and $18.50 for the big trees—get your wallets ready!

As the crowd stampedes toward their own tiny and/or six-foot silver replicas, the three figures on the stage are hurried away. The HHA representative presents their gift basket to the Mayor. He kisses her on both cheeks, rubbing his belly in anticipation of the deliciousness to come, and hurries on. Chief Harding takes the rear, casting back a sour look, and before you have a chance to see if the three could answer any questions, the stage is empty again.

...well, get in line! You want those trees too, don’t you?

↑ back to top ↑


A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE

The days are getting colder and the entire town seems to be getting into the holiday spirit, between the tree lighting ceremony and the decorations your neighbors are putting up. But something seems to want you to get into the Christmas spirit as well—you haven’t done anything out of the ordinary, but when you open the door, you’re met by a burst of frigid air carrying the scents of gingerbread and peppermint on it.

Stepping through the door, you are not in Santa Rosita any more.

Well, technically, you are; you’re just down by Rose Garden Park, before the Old Growth starts. But it’s not where you thought you were going, and it doesn’t resemble the normal streets of suburbia now. You’ve stepped into a charming Christmas village, packed with all sorts of fun winter activities and sights to see! The ground is covered in pure white snow that never seems to melt into slush, and the sounds of high, sweet jingle bells fill the air as a team of reindeer haul a sleigh past. Maybe that’s Santa’s sleigh they’re pulling?
As you walk into the village, a red pole demands your attention, placed in such a way that no one can miss it. A letter is attached to it:

’Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town
The people were smiling; there was nary a frown!
They entered my village, all brimming with cheer
And knew that quite soon, old St. Nick would be here
There's skating and snowmen and light shows galore
There's even a place to make wreaths for your door!
But somewhere inside there's a mailbox to find
And Santa may bring you what's most on your mind…

As the letter suggests, the village is full of hustle and bustle. Santa’s elves—Robbies decked out in red and green costumes with matching tights and jingle bell boots—are everywhere, making sure that there’s always plenty of holiday treats available for visitors to eat and drink. The nearby pond is iced over and the elf manning the ice skate exchange station seems to be able to guess your perfect size with a glance, while reindeer racing courses have been set up encircling the village. All of the buildings and many of the trees have been lined with lights, warm and bright, and there are stations set up where visitors can make garlands or wreaths to take back with them to the real world.

The real world? Yes, of course—that boring place with work and school and vacuuming! Though the door you initially walked through may have turned into a station for making gingerbread houses, you can hoof it back to your home in Shadyside at any time. The public library is just that way, past the baseball diamond! Any time you open a door, however, you run a risk of finding that it leads back to the village, where the elves are waiting to ensure you enjoy your visit. You can try to close the door and open it again, but who knows if your luck has changed?

The organizers of the village seem to be most insistent that you come and enjoy yourself—flyers are all around town, stuffed in your mailbox, and pinned on bulletin boards. Though some signs on lampposts seem as though they’ve been torn down in a huff, you still can spot them on Main Street: “Visit Santa Rosita’s Very Own Christmas Village!”

And visit it you will.

While the elves are happy to welcome visitors to their village, they also have to work. Christmas toys don’t build themselves, you know! The elves will point out Santa’s Workshop to you, where you can buy freshly made candy canes, charming ornaments for your new aluminum Christmas trees (you did buy one from the Happy Homes Association, didn’t you?), and other sundries and stocking stuffers. There’s even a German-style bar in the back serving hot chocolate and mulled wine—non-alcoholic, of course; this is a family event. Just outside of the workshop’s entrance is a mailbox, its post swirled red and white and wrapped in garlands. A small desk sits next to the mailbox with a stack of stationery, envelopes pre-addressed to Santa Claus at the North Pole, and pens on top.

At the top of the stationery, beside cutesy illustrations of hippos and children missing their front teeth, are the words, “What I want most for Christmas is…”

Why not write Santa a letter? What have you got to lose?

↑ back to top ↑


THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...

...to the annual Christmas gala, beginning at 4:00 pm sharp at Santa Rosita’s stately town hall! The invitation appears in your mailbox with just enough time for you to gather all your family and go shopping, because you certainly want to look your best. You simply must. The who’s who of the town will be there, all wearing their finest velvet dresses and shined black shoes. Be warned that the dress code will be strictly enforced by the Happy Home Association—only red and green allowed, or else it simply isn’t festive. Men in bright red or green suits - women sporting taffeta skirts in complementing shades - pinned corsages and matching handbags - no detail left untouched!

You wouldn’t want to be caught standing out from the crowd, would you? In the Mayor’s presence?

That might be a bad idea.

But the holidays do get the better of us sometimes, don’t they? The HHA understands, and if on the day of the party you have found yourself without a red or green garment, they have some loaners to wear. If you’ll simply follow Mrs. Jones down to the coat room, she can show you some options.

  • For the ladies (and female-presenting), they offer up beautiful green or red dresses as loaner. ”It matches the metal trees!” the coat clerk brightly tells you, her own dress as shimmery as they come.

  • For the gentlemen(ly presenting among you), fresh off the rack at the local Sears Roebuck department store, these fetching blazers are available, complete with matching trousers.

In front of you in line is someone who very clearly does not have the Christmas spirit flowing through them, judging by how they wish to argue with the HHA about these “loaner garments.” How rude! But don’t worry—when you see the once-irascible individual later by the punch bowl, there’s a glassy smile on their face and they’re decked out in jolly green and poppy red, happy as—well, a kid on Christmas morning.

Tables are laid out with food and drink aplenty. Even the sandwich loaf has made its effort to match the decor, as red poinsettias and holly berries dot the windows (careful children—they’re poisonous) and rich green pines occupy every corner. Move outside of the room and you’ll find nothing more than locked and darkened offices, with the occasional policemen and night guards shaking their fingers at you to go back and enjoy the party. This is a night to be merry and drink some mocktails, not to go through the filing!

Up by the fine wood paneling and brilliant metal tree stands the mayor himself. Looking dashing as Santa Claus, a cluster of parents flock nearby beaming as their child gets their photo taken with Mayor Clarke! That’s certainly going in the Christmas newsletter! Each of them has a little present—perfectly wrapped, just see Grandma’s Gift Wrapping Guide in this month’s HHA newsletter—to give to the Mayor for all his hard work this year.

You didn’t think that stack of presents by Santa’s chair was for him to pass out, did you?

Between music sets (graciously played by the Frederick Loren High School marching band), the Mayor stands—the hall falls silent, all the little cups and plates still in jolly hands. He has a speech to give you all, you fine citizens, faces old and new:

“Ho-ho-hi there, Santa Rosita! And how are we enjoying ourselves tonight? I see some of our new families were able to make it out tonight—is that Richard O’Reilly and the missus?” Using a hand to shade his eyes, Clarke squints into the throng of townspeople. “And Jim Astin with Lucy and little Susie! Wow. Isn’t that something?”

In the back of the room, Chief Harding pours himself a glass of punch, takes a sip, then reaches into his suit jacket for his flask.
“Now, in my house,” Clarke continues, “we have a rule not to open any presents until Christmas Day, but with all the ones I've gotten tonight, it's just too darn tempting.” Reaching down, he takes a box from the pile of gifts at his feet. “I think this one's a tackle box, and I'm pretty sure this—” he reaches down for another smaller box, “—is that electric razor I’ve had my eye on.” He shakes the box, chuckling, as the rest of the crowd joins him.

“But let's get serious for a moment.” Clarke’s expression turns thoughtful. “Although getting a truckload of Christmas presents is swell, do you want to know what the greatest gift you've given me is?” He pauses performatively, waiting for an answer from the crowd that never comes.

“The greatest gift you've all given me... is letting me serve you.”

In the back, Harding ditches the punch cup and just drinks straight from the flask.

“I'm honored to be here with you all tonight,” Clarke continues proudly, “just I am honored to be able to wake up every morning, look in the mirror and tell myself that I... am your mayor. Which is why I want to give something back to you. How many of you have already visited Santa's little village?”

There’s a round of cheering in the front of the audience from the many children in attendance with their parents. Clarke opens his arms wide.

“My idea! I decided that if I can't bring Santa Rosita to the North Pole, I'm going to bring the North Pole to Santa Rosita. Enjoy yourselves! Saint Nick's got a lot of work to do before Christmas. So be good, don’t pout, and for goodness sake—have fun!

The clapping threatens to take down the garlands hung from chandeliers. ”A fine orator!” “Reminds me of the war, when we heard Churchill over the radio. Why, Clarke gives him a run for his money, ha ha ha!”

A delightful HHA elf comes to replenish the pickle tree on the appetizer table, and the covers of Bing Crosby carry you away into the night.

Remember to stay until 9:00 pm, when the Santa Rosita Children’s Choir will start caroling!

↑ back to top ↑


OOC INFO

Welcome to the first part of the event! You can use this entry to top-level for the event, but feel free to use the log and network communities as well.

A few things to keep in mind: Firstly, there is no return portal back into town once your character is teleported into the Christmas village. They will have to walk back on foot or get lucky and catch a ride from a helpful citizen.

Secondly, please be mindful of how your character interacts with the setting. While characters are welcome to explore the town and ask questions, Santa Rosita is still a happy little suburb in the 1960s, where appearances matter and acting too out of line from commonly accepted societal norms can come with their own unique consequences. We do not intend to punish players for their curiosity, but be aware that the townsfolk may not be so understanding of wanton disrespect for their ways!

And thirdly, the NPCs will not be available for interactions. At the party, Harding will leave early and Clarke will leave to handle other business. Santa does have a schedule to keep, after all.

Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.

Remember--Part 2 of this event is coming December 15th!

▶ NAVIGATION ◀
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interdicted: (pic#14489657)

iii snow white witch cackling gif

[personal profile] interdicted 2020-12-04 06:38 am (UTC)(link)
[ A couple of weeks have passed since Wolfe woke up in a house that is not his own and he's come to a couple realizations since then:

1) This is very obviously not his world, and it seems to be very possible that a number of Scholars' theories about potential alternate universes are about to be proven.

2) There are only so many of them new to the town, and they're all in the same boat.

That's enough for Wolfe to follow the boy when he sees him heading out of the hall, stalking after him like a tacky dark green shadow. Once they're outside and he can speak without drawing attention— ]


What in the hell do you think you're doing?

[ Oh. That is not a happy tone. That is most definitely a very angry tone. ]
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: COLLEGE)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-04 06:43 am (UTC)(link)
DIDN'T YOU JUST EAT BREAKFAST? YES, I'M MAKING LUNCH. LUNCH FOR ME.

[...Wait a minute. It'd be a lot faster talking while eating, than texting while eating. He starts to invite Sans over, then catches himself on that key word and changes it before the message cuts off.]

BUT YOU CAN COME OVISIT ANYWAY. TO ENJOY THE SIGHT OF A HEALTHY LUNCH. AND MAYBE EVEN ASPIRE TO MAKING YOUR OWN.
WHILE WE TALK.
OVER.


[Because it seems like they have a lot to discuss, if it's been a while for Sans for real. And not strange dreamlike fragments with lots of missing time.]
ribticklers: (124)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-04 06:54 am (UTC)(link)
[When you expect to greet a reset or reload with nothing, strange, dreamlike fragments absolutely count as a while.]

it'd be even better if you gave me my own food to look at
and maybe eat
you got an address or something to give me?


[Sans is outside now, but since he got moved, he can't be sure Papyrus hasn't moved. Also, Sans can't actually remember which street Papyrus lived on in October anyway.]
Edited (oops comic sans) 2020-12-04 06:54 (UTC)
catlady: (Default)

[personal profile] catlady 2020-12-04 06:57 am (UTC)(link)
[ selina flashes a smile, a gesture she hopes is at least disarming, but very likely comes off a little more... creepy cheshire cat grinning in the dark after having snuck up on the poor kid like that. unlike her young friend here, selina is a master of stealth and, really, all kipo is doing is pushing "snoop around" up the time table a little. ]

Yeah, the good stuff is usually locked up. [ she leans against the wall in a very casual manner, her arms crossed in front of her. ] You know how to pick a lock?
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-04 07:08 am (UTC)(link)
Suppose I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. As usual.

[ he replies characteristically before meeting her halfway. ]

The door's always open. Not that it matters if it were or not.
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-04 07:12 am (UTC)(link)
I'm not really good with celebrating...

[ he admits, trying to lower expectations before she expects too much from him. but she's not a part of his other family, so he should try his best to give what normal life he can offer her while he tried to get them all out of here... even if she can apparently turn into a jaguar. ]

...but maybe we can look around for ornaments, if you want.d
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: EYEROLL)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-04 07:12 am (UTC)(link)
IF I MAKE YOU LUNCH, AND YOU DON'T EAT IT... I'M TAKING IT BACK. SO NO REQUESTS ON WHATEVER I MAKE.
OVER.


[He has not yet memorized the new address, so that part's tricky to answer. Papyrus heads to the front door, pausing on his doorstep to look back at the radio log.]

...HEY, WAIT. CAN YOU READ THIS?

[...Over.]
ribticklers: (130)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-04 07:16 am (UTC)(link)
yeah

[Of course Sans will eat more food, that part goes without saying. By now he's just standing on the sidewalk in front of his house looking at his watch thing.]
Edited 2020-12-04 07:16 (UTC)
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SWEAT)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-04 07:36 am (UTC)(link)
[Surely there's some things Papyrus has cooked that Sans wouldn't put in his mouth... at least, not more than a polite taste's worth. The culinary museum never would've accumulated its works of art, otherwise. (Thank goodness for Toriel intervening, recently.)]

OH. OKAY. SO THE "OVER" PART IS OVER.

[Grump, grump, all the way to where he can doublecheck his mailbox. Fuming all the while, a little, over having been pranked by a barely-awake Sans already. What a nostalgic mood whiplash.]

AND THE HOUSE NUMBER IS 105. I DON'T KNOW THE STREET... BUT IT MIGHT BE ON THE LICENSE. I'LL CHECK.

[He squints down the street in search of a street sign anyway, as looking for them is one of the fragments of how to drive that's sticking with him the hardest. And, isn't that funny, the guy over at the next mailbox kinda looks... familiar...?]
catlady: (😏 hell i'll do twenty-five to life)

[personal profile] catlady 2020-12-04 07:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ there's a fond smile on her face as she pulls back, this dumb soft bitch just so sprung over loser ass bruce wayne of all the people in the multiverse. she removes the glove from her right hand and tucks it beneath her arm, reaching up to wipe the residual lipstick from his lips. it lingers against his cheek just a moment longer. ]

Mmmm, I think we can both agree you've never been great at keeping me out, Bat. [ she resists the urge to let her hand drop and take his, figuring they probably shouldn't push it out in the open like this on the off-chance someone actually cares and instead nods in the opposite direction. ] Come on, let's get this thing back to your place. It's getting cold standing out here like this and I could use a cup of tea to warm me up. Unless you have a better idea?

[ also, you know, it'd be nice to hear what ol' world's greatest detective has dug up over the last few days, see if he's got anything useful. ]
ribticklers: (125)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-04 07:43 am (UTC)(link)
[Sans notices someone else outside pretty quickly, even distracted by his watch. He doesn't get a good look at the guy until after he's read Papyrus's message, since that's more important than whoever's next door, but then he realizes. He remembers hanging out with Papyrus more than once in October; the weird and familiar human face of his brother is something he still remembers. As for Sans's own weird human face, all those muscles make it much easier to see how he lights up as soon as he recognizes Papyrus.

...But then Sans looks back down at his watch.]


that's weird
mine's 103
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-04 07:59 am (UTC)(link)
Beyond a neighborhood watch, I don't think you'll find much home security in the nineteen-sixties. Try not to get any ideas, though.

[ as they begin their walk home, suburban streets foreign from the grittiness of gotham city, there is something peaceful about the gentle snowfall down the line of similar looking houses, the two of them walking together, christmas tree slung over his shoulder. a snapshot to keep in their minds to ignore the fact that all of this is so dreadfully wrong. ]

Afraid I can't offer you any Rooibos, but I think I saw a box of Lipton in the cupboard.
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: CRYING LAUGHING)

reunion tag before I snooze

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-04 08:06 am (UTC)(link)
[That suddenly beaming face is really familiar, actually, especially when he notices the watch in hand. Papyrus starts laughing before his brother even sends the reply, and waves wildly.]

Oh my god! Are you kidding??

[He doesn't dash over, though, even when the watch lights up again with that number confirming it. Sans is supposed to be visiting him, after all. And he needs a second to wipe his eyes. Somehow it's a huge relief, that it was only a few hours instead of... days...?]
ribticklers: (125)

the most important of tags

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-04 08:15 am (UTC)(link)
[Sans walks over toward Papyrus, still beaming. This is a much shorter walk than he expected, which is nice. Papyrus is right next door now--that's almost like being in the same house like they're supposed to be. He has no idea if one or both of them got moved, but it doesn't matter.]

Guess you're not gonna have time to make lunch for me before I get to your place, huh?
catlady: (😏 a rose in harlem)

[personal profile] catlady 2020-12-04 08:51 am (UTC)(link)
Pfft, neighborhood watch. Please.

[ she's far beyond the level of thieves a neighborhood watch would catch, even without the expensive equipment and catsuit. but selina can't exactly imagine these people have anything worth stealing and she's not about to commit a B&E just for funsies.

unable to get a good night's sleep with a stranger in her house and having nothing better to do the past few nights, selina's already got the town mapped out in her head. she stays a step ahead of him, practically leading him back to his own house. ]


Oh, you poor thing. Your well-traveled rich boy tastes must be so offended having to slum it like this. How are you managing, living off all those terrible Jello molds? Are you keeping the kid fed? Because you do need to feed and water them and point 'em at the sun every once in a while.

[ she's had her horde of alleytown kids for five seconds and suddenly she's an expert, apparently. ]

Thankfully my "husband" knows how to take care of himself, though the jury's still out on whether he can be trusted to do so responsibly.
the_caped_crusader: (Default)

[personal profile] the_caped_crusader 2020-12-04 09:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ she kids, but alfred's death will linger with him just the same way his parent's did. he remembers the exact kind of tea he would serve this time of year. the silence after her teasing is enough that she knows where his mind is at, but he changes the subject before she can say anything else about it. ]

I was never a very good father, or very good at fixing my mistakes if this is some sort of 'Christmas Carol' lesson for all of us, but I'll take care of her. Maybe the... tree will help.
catlady: (Default)

[personal profile] catlady 2020-12-04 09:59 am (UTC)(link)
[ it's not the first time she makes that mistake and, honestly, she doesn't even notice she's said or done anything wrong until his silence prompts her to replay it in her head. grief isn't a straight line and being a person who keeps her relationships casual because she can't take that kind of heartache, it's a line she keeps stumbling over. she can never really predict how certain comments are going to land and she hasn't reached a place where she feels like she can talk to him about it when she feels like there's a part of him that... might place some of the blame on her.

there's a noticeable shift in the tone of her voice, all that earlier playfulness now gone. ]


So, let's make sure it looks nice for her, then. Try and give her something that resembles normal in all this... weirdness.

[ the kid isn't much older than she was when she was being bounced around from place to place. it's not quite the same, but being taken from everything you know and being forced into an uncomfortable situation isn't exactly hard to sympathize with. ]

I could help. I really could help with the decorating, that doesn't have to be just innuendo. I could, I don't know... pick up a couple gifts for you to put under that tree for her.
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (13)

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-04 10:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ The problem is, Wrathion is insatiably curious.

He knows he is not likely to want whatever terrible product is produced from this, but he does want to know exactly how terrible it is.

For a moment he studies Sans, one eyebrow lofted, then he gives in -- sighs and digs out the money to hand over. How much is this coin worth anyway? He's not strictly sure, but it appears to be a lower denomination. ]


Your sales pitch could use some work.

[ Though, technically, he did still get a sale. Can't be that bad. ]
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (11)

[personal profile] blackscales 2020-12-04 11:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ Translating. A translocation orb, perhaps? Though the places mentioned are not familiar to him.

Unfamiliar place names, and Wrathion himself has drawn no reaction from the man. His frown deepens, and he begins to pace a little.

Several options open up.

One, the man before him is a fiction conjured to slow him down and keep him in some vision away from the main forces.

Two, with the fabric of reality torn this man is from another future -- one where Wrathion is not known, and Azeroth has a different structure. Including place names Wrathion does not recognise.

Three, the man before him is not from Azeroth -- many further questions attach to this. Does that mean either that the Black Empire has reached its tendrils to other worlds, or does it mean that this is not the doing of the Black Empire at all but some other entity?

He lifts a hand to his chin, fussing with his beard as he thinks. ]


I was leading an expedition through Ny'alotha, to put an end to the nightmares once and for all.

[ If this man was an agent of N'Zoth in disguise, Wrathion thinks, they'd probably drop the illusion at that to remind him resistance is futile. While N'Zoth himself had patience, his followers often ended up less... subtle. ]
13thcommander: (are you fucking serious)

what can possibly go wrong?

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-04 11:39 am (UTC)(link)
Neither am I.

[Erwin is very familiar with getting an idea that seems good but then turns into an absolute disaster, but he's also the type to push through and see that disaster to its bitter end. The only way to learn how to drive this thing is to actually do it, and Erwin has a book open on his lap: Learning to Drive in Pictures, courtesy of the local library.]

I believe that wheel is what steers it? They call it a steering wheel in the book.
petsthedog: (pic#12824081)

sup dad

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-04 12:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[The first who's there has him tensed up; it's probably not whoever kidnapped him, but then, you'd think a kidnapper wouldn't go through the effort of healing his injuries and modifying all these bizarre pictures??? So what is this....some kind of social experiment? A toybox for some kind of billionaire psychopath, like that book where a bunch of kids murder each other on TV for rich people's entertainment?

He's stiff and guarded as he waits for the footsteps to approach, but then he's caught out by the same realization that the older man is--they share the photographs.]


....Alright, this is officially way past creepy.
petsthedog: (pic#12818057)

chinhands

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-04 12:13 pm (UTC)(link)
[Shinji's expression barely twitches at the angry tone. Living on the streets in the sketchiest part of Iwatodai has given him his share of experiences with angry (often drunk) adults, and the last thing he's got the patience for in this bizarre suburban fever dream is to let some guy who's presumably been set up as a fake parent in another of these house get any weird ideas.]

What's it look like I'm doin'?
13thcommander: (depression smile)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-04 12:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[That's some pretty impressive back crackling, and Erwin raises one eyebrow when he hears it. That sounded satisfying, and he makes a mental note to later ask Sans what his secret is.]

I was thinking the same thing.

[After the whole pumpkin fiasco, Erwin will definitely be getting a tree to display. Just maybe not one of the big ones.]

They're very... bright.

[Erwin walks to the base of the tree, bends down, and hoists it. The thing isn't heavy, just kind of bulky, and he waits for Sans to get the top part.]
13thcommander: (serious side-eye)

no one can beat Erwin's eyebrow game, it's true

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-04 12:34 pm (UTC)(link)
My name is Erwin.

[Not Barry or Jack McGarett.]

[Okay, so Archer is playing the fool right now, or maybe he's just like this. Erwin sighs through his nose, but he's dealt with worse. Maybe.
]

Why don't you come get a drink with me, and we can find a quieter place to talk.

[He's hoping they don't have any alcohol around here, and that he can convince Archer to drink some water before trying to talk with him.]
petsthedog: (Default)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-04 12:36 pm (UTC)(link)
this is bullshit
probably ain't even gonna work but whatever
my coat i guess
-aragaki