driftfleet | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Anyone! Everyone!
Broadcast: If you want!
Action: On the FLOOT LOOP stations! Or the planet!
When: WHENEVER time is an illusion.

[you know the drill! this is a mingle for the stations floating around the bizarre forest planet, or the forest planet itself!

want to get away from the forest illusions? are you stopping for supplies? were you just really craving a bowl of Floot Loops for some reason? whether you are backdating for pre-planet shenanigans or just want to mess around, this is the post for you!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Mmmhm, mmhm, mmhm...

[She's listening and sort of mulling this information over, but she's also sort of not buying it.]

Well, I hate to tell you this, but I'm an atheist. Your selling point of being deity-created sounds very nice, but I'm not buying it.

[his eyebrows raise.]

...What, you don't believe I was created by my god?

I'm afraid not. I don't believe gods exist, I'm sorry to tell you.

[All right, she's not sorry. It's just sort of... residual manners asserting themselves around the drunkenness.]

[he scoffs a little.]

If you feel abandoned by the gods, you should. Whoever created humanity
never confessed to the crime. Or masterpiece, depending on who you're asking.

...But to not believe in them at all is just silly.

[She laughs suddenly and giddily, and grabs another shot and takes it.]

If there are gods, they're so worthless as to not bother existing at all. In the end it's the same to me.

That-- [and he happily raises a tiny glass in a mock toast.] --is more like it.

[and down into his gullet it goes.]

[She's still laughing but now she hiccups suddenly. And then sits very still for a moment.

And then she surges to her feet and takes quick steps for the door.]

[and he--taking his time--sets his glass down, pushes himself up to his feet, and ambles after her.]

[She's in her own little world. She leaves the building - there's no alley, everything here is wall to wall. She finds a sort of corner instead and crouches a bit, head hanging - then lifts her head and vomits a stream of almost pure alcohol onto the ground. Pauses, pukes again, straightens up and digs a finger into her mouth to scrape a food scrap out of the back of her throat. It looks like it's been a while since she's eaten, though, given that the puke is mostly fluid and not much else.]

[for what it's worth, he isn't just leaning nearby so he can quietly and unfairly gloat. he's also watching to make sure that no one comes by to bother her, without the cover of an alley or shrubbery to give her privacy. he'll make faces at anyone that looks too curious or offended about it-- the ugly, unmasked kind.

and he waits, full of both pride and disgust, until she seems well and truly finished.]

...Does this mean that I win?

[She straightens back onto her feet after a moment, moving her tongue around her mouth and swallowing. Blech. Tastes... not great.

She's pretty sure there are more shots left in there. She can wash that flavor out with those, hmmm.

Regardless of more unhealthy planning, she's a decent loser as well as a good winner.]

I suppose so.

[Aaand then she turns around to go back in the bar.]

[his realms are poison and death. he's not going to ask if she's alright.

he just pushes himself away from the wall and turns on his heel when she passes by, following her back inside.]

Glutton for punishment?

We still have booze here.

[She's sitting down right where she was.]

What's the point in wasting it?

[and he falls right back into his place as well.

I understand that you're known for your enthusiasm... but are you always this enthusiastic about alcohol?

Does this count... as one of your three questions?

[She takes another shot.]

[oh! he points at her!]

No, it does not.

[She laughs in a drunk way and takes another shot. He's free to... lead this conversation...]

[and lead he does.]

What does count, however, is me wanting to know-- what do you want more than anything in the world, right now?

[and he might even be being genuine about it.]

I want to get home.

[A simple, easy answer.]

That's where my real job is. [And where things are getting sticky.] I need to be there.

That's a good answer.

[easy or not. he'll take it.]

Married to your work, I see.

Oh naturally. [She shrugs, picks up another shot glass, and slugs the contents back.] Next question.

What do you fear, truly and honestly?

[though he's asking it lightly enough. this is just casual drinking conversation.]

The end of humanity.

[Another shot tossed back. She's smiling, but she's serious.]

Really?

[and he can be a little more genuine himself while her brain is wrapped in alcohol. it's a surprising thought, and he doesn't sound sarcastic in the least.]

It's that much of a concern?

[She ignores him for a bit. She can feel herself getting het up, wound up again, thinking about it, and this is what she was out drinking to avoid in the first place.

She takes another shot... going to run out soon, unfortunately... and stares out the window in silence. Drums her fingers on the table top once, the only outward indication of the fervent energy that always lives in her, while she untangles herself, tamps down what she needs to and reroutes the slow flush of anger into something less potentially... explosive.

It is, in a sense, easier when boozed up.]

Ohhh yes. Oh yes it is.

[Nothing more to say about that.]

Edited 2015-01-30 19:37 (UTC)