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 ◀
COMMS logs | network | ooc | memes
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
m1895: (and this bullshit west coast dogma)

[personal profile] m1895 2020-12-28 01:59 am (UTC)(link)
[ Vasiliy narrows his eyes, but makes a conscious effort to stop himself from canting his head to the side, because that's the kind of thing that watchers can see from a distance, the kind of subtle movement that can mark oneself as a person of interest. ]

What do you mean, did something to him? Did they inject him? Did it look like they are telling him something?

[ Scopolamine, his mind fills in, or maybe Haldol. Any number of injectable drugs that would presumably wreak havoc on the human body when given to people who aren't sick. ]
thotsandprayers: (that's what I do what I live for to help)

Re: Christmas Village

[personal profile] thotsandprayers 2020-12-28 02:56 am (UTC)(link)
I suppose it must've seemed a bit out of place.

[Kiara laughs a little, and actually seems a little embarrassed by it. Da Vinci being the only person around who's familiar with her is a bit strange to get used to it. It's certainly less abrasive than if she were stuck here with a certain author or anything like that, and while that could be considered an improvement, it's still strange.]

But it's not something I've ever had the opportunity to do before, so I didn't want to miss the chance. And it was fun, even if I did fall a few times.

[Now that's the really humorous part. Well, funny to her at least. To go from being Beast III/R to falling on her ass trying to ice skate. Sure, there's a few important things in between, but it's still a pretty huge lifestyle change no matter what.]

Though I feel like I may have enjoyed things more than some of the others, as I wasn't particularly bothered by the way I arrived.

[The door taking her to village was surprising sure, but not really a big deal compared to what she recalls of the October children. Or compared to any number of things back home either. So since that wasn't a concern, she didn't see any reason to not partake in the Christmas fun.]
prodigalhairess: (pic#13078447)

[personal profile] prodigalhairess 2020-12-28 05:03 am (UTC)(link)
Messing up together, learning together... it's all a part of being friends, right?

[It's... something Rapunzel hadn't really grasped, in their early time together. She thought that once you were friends, then that's that. You don't really need to do anything else, and things will sort themselves out along the way. But they've both made mistakes, they've both hurt each other... but they both keep on growing.

It's a lot to learn, but Rapunzel is trying. Because her friendship with Cass is worth trying for.]


Oh, maybe if we hold onto each others' hands, it'll help us balance better!
monalisasmile: (Charm point)

[personal profile] monalisasmile 2020-12-28 11:18 am (UTC)(link)
[It's almost endearing seeing this side of Kiara. Even if Da Vinci is sure that her motivations are still ultimately self-centered. Will she still be like this when she runs out of new things to experience? Well, that's just an idle curiosity she can ponder on her own time. Right now, she's being social!]

Nothing wrong with making the best of things! To be honest, I've been enjoying the novelty of this era a bit, myself.

[Her smile does turn a little amused again at the reference to how they arrived here.]

You're taking it much better than my darling "husband". [Yes, the quotes are audible in her tone, if subtle. She's not offended by the arrangement, just acknowledging the absurdity.] He's gone and taken down most of the doors in the house. Something about "getting caught on his way to take a shower"...
undiagnosed: (pic#14468574)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-28 02:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Uh... little column A, little column B. Are you always this bitchy?

[jk he already knows the answer]
bibliophilicbells: (151)

[personal profile] bibliophilicbells 2020-12-28 05:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[With a bit of a gleam in his pretty blue eyes:] Yes.
thotsandprayers: (kidding when they called me a witch)

[personal profile] thotsandprayers 2020-12-28 07:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Yes, let's hope not.

[She'll wave farewell and be off to take the tree home. Until next time then, apparently without murderous snowmen, but perhaps with murdered snowmen.]
thotsandprayers: (poor souls with no one else to turn to)

[personal profile] thotsandprayers 2020-12-28 09:15 pm (UTC)(link)
I can imagine that would be...inconvenient.

[Give her a moment, her mind went somewhere entirely different at the thought of Da Vinci's “husband” taking a shower. Somewhat behaved or not, she's still Kiara, so her mind's going to hang around in the gutter at times.

It's not too long of a mental detour, thankfully, as she is able to refocus on the topic at hand.]


But the doors, really? I suppose that would work, but with this weather...

[Her expression shifts to one of concern, which is a pretty big contrast from her being horny on main a moment ago. But the concern is still genuine! Sure, it would cut down on trips to Christmasland, but it's cold. She can tolerate most of her husband's eccentricities, even if Papyrus has made some of the house look like someone shoved the entirety of Chaldea's Christmas nonsense into a couple rooms, but if he took off the doors...

Okay, honestly, she'd probably just patiently suffer through it, but she wouldn't be particularly happy about it.]


I can't imagine that being very comfortable. If you'd prefer somewhere warmer, you're welcome to stop by. I can't imagine my “husband” would mind.

[She feels incredibly strange offering her hospitality like that, but she supposes it's something she'll get used to the longer she's here.]
fwizz: (pic#13933487)

[personal profile] fwizz 2020-12-28 09:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[ those words all mean, more or less, a grand total of nothing as far miguel's concerned — the name doesn't ring any bells, it's certainly no relation to stark-fujikawa as far as he's concerned; and morioh? he probably couldn't point at it on a map.

which is one way of saying: it doesn't help miguel. ]


Right. [ momentary pause; consideration; then— ] What's the last thing you remember? [ or: do they have anything in common? ]
m1895: (your proposal is immodest and insane)

A

[personal profile] m1895 2020-12-28 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Vasiliy all but immediately jolts awake at the distinctly human sounds outside of his window, pulse rising as sickening shocks of adrenaline hit his body in waves. He reflexively fumbles for the shitty American revolver on the bedside table and cocks the hammer, aiming it in the direction of the window before both feet are even on the ground.

The sight on the end of the barrel shakes with the trembling of his hands. ]


Hands up! Show yourself!

[ This is it. They already know. They found out somehow. ]
righthandstand: (FRIENDSHIP)

[personal profile] righthandstand 2020-12-28 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)
He lightly pounds an open hand with his fist. "Yeah, I'll check it out. I hope the guy living with me just tosses it into the street, or else I'll have to come up with a better backstory for my disguise."

Okuyasu will gladly be a guinea pig.

"And then you can take a look at it and see if you can hack into their headquarters!"
undiagnosed: (pic#14468795)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-28 11:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[as usual, archer is absolutely unphased by having a gun pointed at him. he raises one hand awkwardly, the other steadying him.]

Calm the Hell down before we have a Clashnikov. With a C. Get it? [he grunts, straightening up.] Whatever, I can do better. Probably.

[archer straightens up, squinting into the dark, like that'll help him see better.]

--Wait, you have a gun? That's not fair!
m1895: (i feel so stupid and so used)

[personal profile] m1895 2020-12-28 11:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Vasiliy's breath comes ragged in his throat, even once it becomes apparent that this guy's unarmed. As for the posturing, the attempts to seem nonthreatening—he's an old hand at that game, and he doesn't stand down in the slightest: just remains posed as he is, right side turned toward the intruder, right arm extended straight out, left at his side. ]

Do not be coming closer. I will shoot.
undiagnosed: (pic#14468723)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-29 12:12 am (UTC)(link)
What, and break your arm? Jesus Christ. [then, because he knows the accent in general and... from somewhere, it feels like, archer continues in russian:] Who left their shitty idiot child out here? He got your gun!

[he's edging closer all the while; he's going to attempt to disarm vasiliy if he can get close enough.]
m1895: (and i was lenin's prep school dream)

[personal profile] m1895 2020-12-29 12:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ The man's clearly American, but he's fluent in Russian, which they don't tend to do unless they have a political motive. CIA? McCarthy's police?

And then the thought's cut short when the guy moves closer despite his warning, like he doesn't know what the fuck a gun is or doesn't think he'll do it. But he wants to live.

Vasiliy fires a shot into the floor and quickly cocks back the hammer again, speaking louder to compensate for the ringing in his ears, still in English. ]


Next will be you! Last warning!
undiagnosed: (pic#14468752)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-29 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
[archer flinches back when the gun fires, cursing.]

God damn it, do you seriously have to shoot that right next to my-- fuck! I already have tinnitus, asshole! [because vasiliy's the asshole here, clearly.] Will you calm the hell down and just show me the door? I got-- I don't know. Wrong house!
m1895: (i feel so used!)

[personal profile] m1895 2020-12-29 12:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ Vasiliy considers, squinting at the man's outline in the darkness. What, like there's a right house to break into? Or is he just reacting that way because he knows he's been caught?

Not that he's in the mood or in any sort of position to have a debate on morality here, because he just wants this man gone so that his heart will stop beating so wildly, so that when he vomits in the imminent future it won't be in front of someone who clearly wishes him some kind of harm. ]


Hands on your head. I will take you to door. [ A beat. ] If you try anything, I will shoot.
undiagnosed: (pic#14468718)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-29 12:41 am (UTC)(link)
[archer flips vasily off with both hands, then puts them on his head.]

You first, you... gnome.
monalisasmile: (Sly)

[personal profile] monalisasmile 2020-12-29 12:43 am (UTC)(link)
[Kiara, please, she's not even sure if you've met her husband. Though if she has, she certainly doesn't blame her for lingering on that thought...]

Most of the doors, yes. He stopped at the exterior... and the bathrooms and bedrooms. Though I've been indulging him and leaving those open most of the time, too.

[You're not the only shameless one here, Kiara. Just a different flavor of it than Miss Universal Genius here.]

Thank you for the offer, though. I was hoping we'd be able to count on each other just as if it were any other Singularity or anomaly.

[And that sly smirk comes back as she adds:]

Besides, I'd be curious to meet this Mr... Knochenmus, was it?
m1895: (i feel so stupid and so used)

tw historical suicide reference/allusion to sexual assault

[personal profile] m1895 2020-12-29 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's hard not to feel the chill of the Chicago Public Library's frigid air on his arms when Archer says that, impossible to block out the memory of what he read before quickly turning to a different page out of basic decency: Yevgenia Yezhova, presented with a tiny figure of a gnome by her husband, killing herself in a mental ward—preferable to what her future would have been otherwise. But it was a detail laid naked before anyone, any American with no frame of reference, people who never even knew the man—a sick window for voyeurs, all of it. What if he'd done something notable? Would they be dissecting his life right now?

His thoughts don't linger on the topic much more than that, because even with the intruder's hands up, this is still a life threatening situation. ]


No. You first.

[ He gestures with the gun. ]

Door is that way.
undiagnosed: (pic#14468827)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-29 01:27 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, for-- [he doesn't move.] And you're going to jam the butt of that thing into my face the moment I get anywhere near you, right?
thotsandprayers: (Repented seen the light made a switch)

[personal profile] thotsandprayers 2020-12-29 01:27 am (UTC)(link)
[She hasn't, but that's not going to stop her from thinking about it. Or about what Da Vinci said either. But talking about Singularities and Kiara's own “husband” is enough to keep her on a somewhat cleaner train of thought than she'd be on otherwise.]

Of course, though I'm certain you would be more comfortable with someone a bit more experience when it comes to these matters.

[She's got experience with being a Singularity, but when it comes to going to one, not so much.]

And yes, Mr. Knochenmus. Or Papyrus, as I imagine you'll quickly be on a first name basis.

[Kiara has a smile of her own, though it's a bit...strained. She's on good terms with Papyrus,of course, but living with someone else has brought a lot of adjustments she wasn't expecting to make. Though she imagines he's much in the same boat. As is everyone else brought here, presumably.]
m1895: (they taught me everything)

[personal profile] m1895 2020-12-29 01:33 am (UTC)(link)
Yes. Good you understand your own language.

[ But this isn't moving fast enough for his liking. This son of a bitch needs to get out, now. He digs deep into his memories of the guys who kept their uniforms spotless and perfectly straight, deliberately fixing them with the same level of care he took in crumpling his jacket, loosening his tie, anything to visually distinguish him from one of the threats when he entered the interrogation room— and does his best to mold himself in their image, staring him in the eye through the semidarkness long enough to make even a normal Russian uncomfortable. ]

Start walking.
undiagnosed: (pic#14468786)

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2020-12-29 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
[he sees the shift in posture and personality, and he knows exactly what that entails. that's the kind of shift that comes with someone about to commit a murder.

so... not great. archer sighs and rolls his eyes like he's so put upon then, because archer figures he's better at whatever this dickhead can do, archer tries to elbow vasiliy in the stomach the moment he's close enough to get that gun out his hands.]
monomachy: insomniatic @ dw (lucky strike)

[personal profile] monomachy 2020-12-29 03:23 am (UTC)(link)
[His excitement is contagious, and her own smile widens in kind.]

I would start with some of the classics, then. Homer, Shakespeare--that sort of thing. [She's going to have to compile a list of authors who would have actually written during this time.] We can return to the library another day, and I'll help you pick some things out.