red fishies

[mortalcoil]

Who: The Red Fish crew, and any trespassers
Broadcast: Probably not
Action: Aboard the SS Red Fish, and the planet's surface
When: For the remainder of the month

[Red Fish is the party ship! yeeeeah!


...no, I lied. really, does anyone on this ship know how to have fun at all? like, really have fun? does anyone here gamble or go dancing or party all night long?

maybe the Red Fish just have fun in unconventional ways-- like reading, or sipping tea, or constructively beating the crap out of each other.

who needs a worlds-famous casino station when you have simple joys like that, right?]

Comments

[mortalcoil]

[he's been making such good progress, whittling and wedging himself back into an obedient place that at least resembles somewhere he used to be. so, when he half-moves to shoo Zhas' hand away from him, it is quite the setback.

he quickly turns it into a sign--to cover his tracks, maybe. but the word is only 'busy,' which might not be much better.]

[theboogieman]

[Zhas never seems to have this problem. he smacks Coil's hand away like clockwork, and quickly ignores whatever he'd been trying to say. he's busy brushing at whatever's dusted all over his clothes. his frown is deepening.]

[mortalcoil]

[the dust is soft and brown, not gritty like sand or debris from anything mineral. and it's not only on his clothes, but his face too--it's sticking to the scratches and clinging lightly to the ends of his hair.

and he doesn't have the patience to be fussed over.

'I need to work,' he signs.]

[theboogieman]

[still ignoring him. still fussing. he wets his thumb rubs it over Coil's face (perhaps as obnoxiously as possible--avoiding the wounds, but pressing hard) and licks whatever powder he picks up.

blech... he makes a face. maybe not fungal, whatever it is.]

[mortalcoil]

[ugh, only the fact that Zhas has already batted away an attempt keeps him from swatting at him again. instead, he'll just grimace and turn his head away, praying that no one else is peeking around to see.

and, well. it doesn't taste like mushrooms, at least. but who knows what giant fungal spores really taste like, right?

he signs that it's fine, and repeats the fact that he needs to go work. like now.]

[theboogieman]

What is this?

[what else is there to ask/sign? he makes a second sign for 'explain', showing that he does not care at all whether or not Coil wants to leave.]

Forest will wait.

[mortalcoil]

[ugh, he gives up.

finally, he signs the word for 'animal,' followed reluctantly by 'fur,' even though the dust has very little resemblance at all to something like that.]

[theboogieman]

[that at least answers his question, kind of. he'd assumed he'd tripped into something dangerous, but it sounds more like he just happened to get thrown into a skirmish with something that's... particularly dusty.

it's hard to tell if his next question is mocking, or genuine:] Do you want help?