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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OOC INFO premise | rules | faq | taken | applications | hiatus/drop/canon updates | activity check | reserves | mod contact
SETTING INFO calendar | setting | housing | npcs | death and tranquilizing | event suggestions/engagements
13thcommander: (considering)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-10 04:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Thank you.

[Erwin thinks about making a comment about how he isn't Levi's Commander anymore and of course he's going to ask and not order, but then decides against it. If it makes Levi feel better to imagine that Erwin is still in charge of anything, then Erwin can play that role for him.]

I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed that someone I met back in October doesn't seem to be here any longer. She was fascinating to talk to.
thevalley: (ghost of a smile)

[personal profile] thevalley 2020-12-10 04:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah, well. Most people who thought that probably weren't born after the death of most of the human race.

[She inhales and then exhales, cracking a smile at the self accusation of being a tosser.]

I guess with nearly everyone dead, it's easy to find some fucking peace and quiet. ...Until the infected find you.
righthandstand: (tough guy)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-10 04:54 pm (UTC)(link)
[He is a tough guy. He will not make a face and hand over victory to some stranger judging him. So he greets her with an annoyed look.]

I had better. Interesting experiment with flavors, but that was a real dud.
13thcommander: (gossiping)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-10 04:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[Levi has always been better at sneaking around and getting reconnaissance than Erwin. Erwin is too tall and blond, too conspicuous; Levi is a lot better at blending into the shadows and disappearing when he has to. The fact that he wasn't able to do much tells Erwin this ballroom is better guarded than he thought it would be.]

Who else did you notice?
13thcommander: (uuuuuuuh)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-10 04:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh! Papyrus! You're Sans's brother!

[Somehow, this isn't how Erwin imagined Sans's brother.]

I hope the silver tree isn't too bright and obnoxious from your house.

[Erwin helped him carry that monstrosity home, and maaaaaybe suggested getting extra lights for it. He's sorry for that, buddy.]
Edited 2020-12-10 17:00 (UTC)
13thcommander: (serious side-eye)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-10 05:03 pm (UTC)(link)
[Excuse you, sir, that handwriting is written with his non-dominant hand while balancing the notebook on his thigh! Erwin knows it's godawful, but it is what it is.]

[Erwin follows Wolfe into the bar, more than happy to get out of the cold. Once they're seated, he sets his notebook on the table and carefully opens it.
]

Not as much as I'd like. I certainly hadn't thought to check electrical currents.

[Electricity is still new enough to him that he hadn't even considered it. Still, once he starts translating his chicken scratches, he has a neat, organized little set of data.]
13thcommander: (bwuh?)

[personal profile] 13thcommander 2020-12-10 05:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Is there a keyhole anywhere on it?

[The book isn't very clear on this part! Erwin looks over the dashboard, trying to find a likely place to put a key.]

Maybe here?

[No, those are the air vents...]

What about that?

[He points to a small hole next to the steering wheel. It doesn't look much like a keyhole to him, but it's about the same size as the key. Maybe this is it?]
sunborne: (388. - 🧭 - NEGOTIATIONS.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-10 05:13 pm (UTC)(link)
[ he nods in understanding, unable to hide his relief to hear the confirmation that people are coming from different periods of time and places. it's honestly a little relieving to hear that. there could be a chance to meet others who have interstellar travel or galactic relations.

but- yeah- focus on giving an answer: ]
I'm from the 23rd century.

Last thing I clearly remember is that I got rescued by my friends. I was suffering a pretty nasty concussion though. [ long story on why daylight and emp bombs do not mix. ] It's why when I started hearing voices, it didn't strike me as odd.

[ then he closed his eyes, woke up, and found himself in a human body. weird. ]

You?
undiagnosed: (pic#14468746)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-10 05:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Corona? My w-- housemate is from there. [noooot opening that particular can of worms, thank you.] Beer country or whatever, right?

[okay, that's a strange link. these two people from the same place and him and ray...]
demonicmiracle: (043)

[personal profile] demonicmiracle 2020-12-10 05:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[Well that explains some things while also raising more questions. He has to tell himself it can't be the Armageddon he's trying to prevent, not if there are even a smattering of people left alive, but he still feels a little sick.

He pushes it down and gives her a slightly sardonic grin; Ellie doesn't strike him as the type to want sympathy, so he goes another route.]


Fair point, but then, you could've been born in the fourteenth century, would've had to deal with the Black Death while wearing several layers of dresses. And you'd have had to marry a man, so...

[The world always kind of sucks, is the thing.]
righthandstand: (I left the oven on!!)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-10 05:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[Thanks, he nods, grabs a napkin, and spits everything in his mouth onto it.]

Blergh.....

[And immediately downs the glass of punch in one shot without pausing for breath beforehand.]

What the hell was that?! Did no one taste test their food?!
undiagnosed: (bisexual idiot jail)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-10 05:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Drugs, duh.

[although... honestly, he has no proof that any drugs have been involved - but who doesn't see a town with people acting like robots like the robbies or the townspeople that seem to behave like they're being watched all the time?]

So, uh... I'm just gonna... you know. Get out of here. Don't call the cops. Just a friendly misunderstanding.
handycapable: (it was nice to meet... some of you.)

[personal profile] handycapable 2020-12-10 06:00 pm (UTC)(link)
Can't really say I blame the man, even, but...

[ Still a little unnerving all the same; small town cops (or really any) can be bad enough as it is, but add in a drinking problem and there's no question about that being a corrupt, incompetent force.

Which can be a good or a bad thing, depending, but at the moment it just feels like yet another foreboding detail.
]

All I know is I'm sure as Hell not gonna take any chances next time-- first thing I'm doin' after this is goin' down and buying a flask of my own. We're not livin' in the Goddamn Depression, there's just no excuse for this!

[ People have the right to at least get tipsy at parties, if not absolutely shitfaced. Ray sighs, then offers a hand -- his right one, stiff and gloved while the other one is not -- to the man. ]

It's Gillette, by the way. Ray Gillette. Nice to meet you.
sunborne: (424. - 🧭 - STUMPED.)

[personal profile] sunborne 2020-12-10 06:00 pm (UTC)(link)
Apparently not. [ fool him once, shame on them and their weird obsession with the powder. he's never going to forget that weird, weird monstrosity that he and sans had to hustle out of the house and to someone else.

he looks at a passing tray and, urgh, more gelatin. ]
They've got to have something else besides gelatin here. I mean. The punch isn't gelatin flavoured.

[ a little pause. ]

It doesn't, right?
helloneighbor: (redacted.)

YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE

[personal profile] helloneighbor 2020-12-10 06:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Minutes after the door is unlocked and before there are files pulled out of the cabinet, there is a static. There is a buzzing. There is a hideous background noise that grows to overtake both Bruce's and Diana's thoughts -- and it does not call forth any guard or any of the patrolmen.

From that there is a voice.

It is many speaking as one and it cannot be determined if it is male, if it is female. If it is an individual and not a crowd. It is not an animal noise but it is a bellow, it is a roar, and it is angry. That voice screams to them and it says loud:

YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE.


Each of them will find themselves back in the party, and one hour will have passed. They will not recall their conversations with one another or what has been found inside the room or what they have been doing in the last hour. Each will have been in the midst of another action. Holding punch or a Christmas cookie, or laughing at a funny joke that has been made about the season. ]
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SWEAT)

first impression results: confused and faintly suspicious

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-10 06:34 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh...? Oh.

[He hasn't seen any smoked dog treats lying around, but maybe the animals of Santa Rosita are better about not littering - or at least burying their stashes.

And now he's going to have to ask random dogs if they know Mettaton, just in case Doggo or someone else here as an animal instead of a human.]


Okay. Right! Yes. You should do that, and not help the raccoons with my trash. And also, maybe write your name outside your window, so you recognize it.
handycapable: (IT'S FUCKING RED!)

[personal profile] handycapable 2020-12-10 06:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh my God though, right? [ What a weird thing to have in common, but that's always how it is with Ray and Archer anyway. ] All I can say is thank God I'm gay. I think in this case that actually makes things a little less weird.

[ Though Ray decides not to comment on if Archer's tiny wife is even any tinier (or well, younger) than any of the dozens of women he's hooked up with in the past, because that doesn't seem quite appropriate in mixed company. He retracts his hand back without comment, holding it limply for a moment like an animal might hold up a wounded paw, before he moves it to sit against his hip. ]

We work in, uh... communications? Well we used to, obviously not anymore, though I dunno what the Hell we're supposed to do for money now... [ As he talks he hand Archer the cookie dough, not even noticing he's doing it, just used to giving in. ] I am in no mood, even in this economy.
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: ALIENS)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-10 07:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[That recognition releases some of the stress from his smile, if Erwin already knows of him. Although, that means Erwin is another person who knows of Papyrus before meeting him, thanks to... whatever Sans has been telling them. Good to know Sans is already starting to get to know literally everyone again.]

Yes, Sans is my brother. And his tree... it's pretty bright and obnoxious.

[It's on the side of the Undertale house that shares yard space with the Knochenmuses, and it's clear as daylight - and sometimes as eyeglaringly bright - that Sans specifically put it there to be annoying.]

But not as bright as mine! He'll give up decorating his eventually. Nyeh heh heh heh heh!

[Papyrus breaks into some outright Saturday Morning Cartoon villainous cackling, as this is not a one-sided prank, and he is escalating the situation.]
handycapable: (██ 𝟘𝟜𝟛.)

[personal profile] handycapable 2020-12-10 07:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Visually, no, Peter definitely doesn't look particularly authoritative or cop-like, but Ray's been on his toes ever since he snuck past the guards, certain the Chief of Police might be patrolling along at any moment to do a sweep of these hallways.

He lets out a breath and dusts off his suit jacket a bit idly, walking behind Peter as quietly and inconspicuously as he can until they stop in front of a very conspicuously labeled door. They really probably shouldn't push their luck by now -- Ray knows that, at least knowing this door is here now they can always try to come back and investigate another time -- but the risk is also part of what makes Ray want to keep going. After all, they've already gotten this far...
]

Worth a shot.

[ Dropping the pretenses now, apparently. Ray carefully descends to his knee again carefully, pulling a pin from his prosthetic hand again and holds it between his teeth for a moment while he inspects the lock. Through his teeth, he adds: ]

Tell me if you hear someone coming?
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SWEAT)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-10 07:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Maybe! I didn't go exploring. Not alone. [They were a little too spooky. And that's said by Papyrus, who's lived with semi-professional jump scare generator Sans.]
ribticklers: (132)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-10 07:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Might be fun. [It would be nice to get a more reliable headcount of everyone who got dragged here. There are too many other people at this party to really be sure, especially with everyone encouraged to blend in with the holiday attire.] Figurin' out how to curate the guest list sounds like work. [Having non-kidnappees there wouldn't really work.]
ribticklers: (126)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-10 07:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[Oh good, Sans loves when people volunteer to clean for him.] Hey, me too. Good choice. [As if either of them picked where they ended up here.] I'm at 103.
ribticklers: (126)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-10 07:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[If you're doing a bit, you have to commit to the bit. And so, nickel secured, Sans just hands over a glass of alcohol-free mulled wine.]

Pleasure doin' business with you.
ribticklers: (130)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-10 07:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[More information on things that are generally weird, and not just weird for monsters-turned-humans. Sans collects it up readily, though it's not making him feel better. The opposite, really.]

They got pretty mad about people not havin' pumpkins in October. [Okay, Sans can't say it was the nebulous "they" that represents their kidnappers, but it was still strange and awful.] But if they're so big on conformity, they should've skipped out on kidnapping a bunch of random people.
thevalley: (Default)

[personal profile] thevalley 2020-12-10 07:36 pm (UTC)(link)
That stuff goes fast in an emergency. Gotta have backup.

[Plus, they'll probably need more than tiny bandages.]