witchesreign | first leaf

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first leaf | [bbs/action]

[New post on the network! New ID, new typing form...might ping some of you.]

i will readily admit that being pulled from a null universe doomed to be yet another footnote in the annals of paradox space and into whatever dimension that this school occupies was quite felicitous indeed
and i suppose that i owe our ever so gracious hosts some credit in that regard
however
i have business to attend to in the incipisphere
and i will simply not be kept from it
so i believe that my first order of business will be to find a way to reverse whatever process snatched me away from the land of crystal and mirage
and proceed to aggrieve aggress and attack
until i have stolen away the secrets that balamb garden has to hide
as i said to strider once before
lets rock the fucking house

[On the action side of things, have a kid who looks...a lot like Dave Strider? Sitting under a tree on the quad, reading a book and looking pissed. OVERDRAMATIC? A LITTLE. But seriously he'll get to the bottom of this shit. "Time compression"? Of all the...those scientists that letter mentioned had better work fast. Is it you, or did his shadow just start moving...?]

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[that is such bullshit and she knows it. but honestly she's still not very 0k with this whole alternate thing, and is reacting in the only way she knows how to the unknown: cryptic assholery and snark]

noted

[Yeah, he's just going to look up and do a quick visual scan of the buildings around, based on what he knows so far. Retrieving the Spiral Stairmitar from his strife specibus, just to get that added bonus to movement when he needs it--that familiar numb sensation returning to the length of his arm, and in the corner of his eye, it's almost like the roof of one of the buildings grew a little--and just like that, he's moving as light, appearing and disappearing in the air of the quad, peering into PRETTY MUCH EVERY WINDOW.

He needs to see this for himself.]

[Rose is, as vaguely detailed, sitting next to the window of one of the buildings. she doesn't expect anything to come of her little facetious hedging of location - the short reply only confirms that he's obviously not in the mood for one-upmanship maneuvers right now. a pity, but there you go.

something outside catches her eye, though. is...is someone flitting around in the air? what the everloving fuck. she gets up from her computer terminal to stare more fixedly out the window. now would not be a great time for her to start seeing things.]

[...is that it? Yeaaaah that's it. ...oh god.

Yeah. Have David just sort of. Perched on the window sill all of a sudden. Holding a fell blade. Maybe staring a little bit.

What the hell.]

[ok, so there are a number of things that unsettle Rose. listed in order of the severity of discomfort they are causing her:

- there is suddenly a boy staring at her from the other side of a window sever flights up when before there was none

- she is pretty sure she's doing her fair share of staring right back and that he can see the way her grip on the window tightened when he popped up. good start, Lalonde

- he is holding what looks like some kind of jrpg possessed sword why does he get to make his weapons before coming here is this some kind of universe bias time compression

- it is damn fucking creepy to see what is basically Dave dressed up as her. like. she is wandering alone in Uncanny Valley without a map.

...she manages a small wave. that should hopefully negate the points lost from his sudden arrival and/or dispel some of this awkward]

[Uh. Yeah. He sort of. Waves back a little bit. Returning the sword to his specibus, he pulls the window open, slipping past Rose and. Standing around.

God this is awkward.]

Edited 2011-07-11 00:30 (UTC)

[Rose crosses her arms, vaguely wondering if they can just nod and pretend the other doesn't exist for the rest of their time here.

no. no that is stupid and even thinking it is stupid and oh fuck this she's going to say something now]

I see the color scheme has carried over through universes. How nice to know.

[He kind of. Folds his hands behind his back. Is his shadow moving? Hell, it doesn't even look vaguely normal.]

... Yes, it would appear so. Purple, red, blue, green?

[Just checking. He even sounds like a more erudite and...less Texan Dave. Except for the fact it sounds like he's standing in a much larger room than she is. Maybe it's your imagination, Rose.]

Many other patterns are no doubt also in position...

Edited 2011-07-11 01:08 (UTC)

[she tilts her head back imperceptibly as he speaks. something is pretty sketch about this kid. how much of this is her own mind trying to find ways to hype up the familiar made unknown is yet to be seen.]

Now if only we'd come with nametags I could truly say that the universe didn't intend to cause me perpetual migraines.

... ah. I had almost forgotten. David Lalonde.

[His voice is still doing that thing.]

Rose Lalonde. Delighted to make the acquaintance of what I can only assume is yet another paradox sibling.

[gauging whether or not bringing it up would be considered openly emotional or a good jab. because she is pretty sure that echo's not going away.]

[wow this is still really awkward]

Likewise, and you're right on the mark.

Lovely. I'd always wanted a Frankenstein creation of myself and Strider to fill in the minute gap that Strider's ego has left in the gaping hole of my psyche reserved for sibling relations or lack thereof.

[a pause in which her expression briefly goes sour from the sheer distaste at the situation. oh you know what fuck PA points let's get the ball rolling] Did you happen to get into a fight before you rammed yourself through my window? I ask because either someone kicked you in the throat or I'm suddenly suffering intense brain damage that alters my perception of acoustics.

I'd be glad to take the role of the psychological modern Prometheus.

[His expression shifts ever so slightly, and his shadow--looking like tumbling shifting geometric shapes at this point--shifts around completely from where it was falling before. Directly in front of him, with the light source being from the window he's also facing...]

Call it the result of an alliance with someone who has been there with me even when I was alone in the house.

Or, in a word, shenanigans.

[Did his voice just turn even more hollow on that "house"?]

[Rose has a strong urge to toe at that shadow, but she is not an idiot. she's got a feeling doing that would leave her down one foot.]

Shenanigans indeed. I'm afraid that all blackened husk behavior you may observe from me is mere genetic predisposition rather than alignment with the zoologically dubious, although I'm told that in my future I have transformation into a rave blacklight to look forward to. For the time being, however, I am forced to cede the shenanigans medal to you. Congratulations.

[Yeah, David isn't sure either. Probably harmless(it is), but who can say.]

An understandable enough predisposition, given our shared genetics and presumably mirrored upbringings. Passive-aggressive warfare with veiled degrees of sincerity and insincerity leaving the house a sentimental warzone, overly elaborate and obscene gestures in response to simple childish requests, hideous decor meant to point fun at a child's flights of fancy?

[This...actually hurts to talk about, seeing as he found out about his mother's death less than a day ago from his perspective, but like hell if he's going to show it. And his voice did that thing again when he said house.]

Edited 2011-07-11 20:53 (UTC)

I see we've found another universal constant. That's good to know, since I just couldn't imagine that house being inviting without twenty-foot belittlements of my immature interests or externalizations of mourning welded to the fridge. Nothing homey about it at all.

[has no problem skewering her mother because she is currently doing the ass-backwards mambo down the timeline and John is an emotional dick who refuses to say anything about this. ignorance is bliss, indeed.]

One couldn't walk into the living room without being assaulted by the towering presence of the Man of La Mancha.

[Lucky lucky you.]

Tilting at windmills in more ways then one, I see. Fortunately for me I was graced with growing up under the watchful eye of Zazzerpan the Learned.

[Allow him a little bit of a laugh at that. The magician girl, raised in a house full of wizard statues and paintings...]

Wizards instead of knights. Fitting.

[hardy har har. Rose's mouth is a little tighter now. she doesn't know what she dislikes more, being laughed at or that fucking statue.]

There was a fair share of princesses strewn about, but let it never be said that I didn't know when to dial into setting up running themes that would eventually become relevant and fitting.

[He wasn't laughing at you, just the situation... He linefaces a little at the mention of princesses, though.]

Ah, yes. How could I forget, the ghastly life-size prince doll...

[she sighs in irritation. of all the damn things to carry over]

Even with my present knowledge of Sburb taken into consideration I still cannot fathom why she was so insistent in forcing me into fairytale molds. At the very least the doll made for good knitting practice.

[Yeah he's kind of mirroring that agh]

I defaced it with chainmail, myself.

Creative, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to err on the side of my own personal Lovecraftian modifications. It was so nice to see her sitting on the couch with her tentacles primly crossed every morning.

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finally a use for this icon

the perfect icon, len

she's lost control of her life.

yep

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