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hadriel_logs2016-06-10 10:00 am
hadrielmods) wrote in hadriel_logs2016-06-10 10:00 am
Entry tags:
- *intro log,
- amos kamiya,
- bianca,
- dr. gottlieb,
- dr. newton geiszler,
- edi,
- elmer c. albatross,
- firo prochainezo,
- howard link,
- krieg,
- lavi,
- lilith,
- maketh tua,
- muscovy,
- nick valentine,
- noah czerny,
- rey,
- sans,
- sansa stark,
- sasha,
- shadow the hedgehog,
- sharon da silva,
- steve rogers,
- ushahin dreamspinner,
- victor talbot,
- wade wilson,
- wanda maximoff
Intro Log: Eight Legs No Heart
Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for June.
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: June 10th-15th
Warnings: Spiders. Soooo many spiders. New people. Probably swearing.
What: The intro log for June.
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: June 10th-15th
Warnings: Spiders. Soooo many spiders. New people. Probably swearing.
For once, the new arrivals to Hadriel will not be waking up on the cold hard ground of the colosseum. Oh, sure, you'll still awaken in the arena - but this time the Door has been kind enough to ensure that you wake up comfortably arranged in a very nice chair. Or maybe not so comfortably. Some of those look pretty awkward - hopefully you didn't wake up with a crick in your neck! And hey, feel free to try to drag some of these super cool chairs to your new homes. They're probably not cursed or anything.
As you make your way out of the arena, be careful getting to close to the walls - well, except that's the only way out, so good luck! Chilling up on there waiting to get the drop on you are Skulltulas. These funky-looking spiders have squishy underbellies, but their upper exoskeletons are hard and very difficult to break through. They really just want to nibble you a few times, and maybe suck out all of your blood. No big deal, right? Have fun!
Have you conquered your arachnophobia and managed to escape? Great! Feel free to go explore the rest of the city! Find a house, find a new monster, or simply scavenge for supplies. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!► This log covers June 10th-15th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► All characters arrive with phones that have network communication.
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
3.
In this specific case, it means finding the most isolated, tranquil place he can and hoping no one else is around. He ambles along, allowing his eyes to droop shut and his focus to dull.
He doesn't mean to run into someone else. But he lets it happen anyway, stops dead in his tracks a few yards away from where someone sits, facing the lake. Looks like a human, which is in and of itself a fairly novel concept.]
So, uh, water you doing?
[Best to start with a joke.]
god bless
Chew.
Look with vague, then specific, then again vague consternation at the lake.
Hear a voice speak something incomprehensibly stupid.
Rather, it goes more, like -- Hermann tenses, should have heard the approach, should have been wary, who knows, all that. He doesn't, he's structuring his thoughts with meticulous sorting, which means, ultimately, that to keep of thinking of one thing, he's quite set on
which don't actually apply at all, but it's an amusing exercise.
Water related, too, but it still takes him a moment to get it. He jumps, looks sharply over his shoulder, and jumps again.
The second jump's all the real reaction to being approached by a literal skeleton. Unless its attack is bad puns, it doesn't seem dangerous. More interesting, really. How? Honestly, though, and immediately more importantly, Water you doing?
Why. ]
I suppose you needed to make that awful wordplay so badly, you ignored the obvious answer. Eating, sir.
this will definitely go well
You were facing away. Made it kinda hard to tell.
[Eating. He could go for a bite of something right around now, but somehow he doubts that monster food would be in short supply around here. Anything else drops right through, unsurprisingly. That's what he gets for being so transparent, after all.]
Didn't do it for you? C'mon, everybody loves jokes.
best friends by the end obviously
Bored, probably. Of course people will be just as tedious when they're dead and only bones. ...or friendly. Could be friendly. Even now, he forgets. ]
In fact, [ dryly ] I have it on good authority that I haven't got a sense of humor.
[ He opens his mouth to add, don't tell him I said it was good, but claps it shut. For a second, something else flickers across his features.
Friendly. He can be, should be friendly. ]
In any case, are you also doing the obvious and having a stroll, or is there more to it?
but what if they talk science tho
Just needed to get away. Got nothing against spiders personally, but they're friendlier when they're hosting bake sales and not trying to eat your face off.
[He's gonna owe Muffet from now until the end of time with all that accumulated debt plus interest, but as scary as the girl can be, she wouldn't go that far. Probably.]
So this might be a weird question.
[But it's better to get it out of the way, for everyone's sake.]
But you're a human, right?
omg please
Spider bake sales, less so. He would like to dismiss it as nonsense, another odd joke, perhaps one that plays out better in this guy's world -- but he is talking to a skeleton. Spiders in his world might very well hold bake sales.
The question has him blinking, but not particularly surprised. Or, he's not used to being asked it, but Newton had been close with those vampires, and Hermann's sure he's looked better. So, though he raises his eyebrows, he also nods. ]
A little weird, but not very. Right.
[ At this point, the necessity of propriety (necessary regardless of friendliness) takes over, and Hermann shifts. Setting the partially eaten chocolate bar on a sleeve, then the carrots, he takes up his cane and leverages himself to his feet. Then, he reaches into a trouser pocket, fishes out a rag of a handkerchief, and wipes down his hand.
He holds it out. His hand, not the handkerchief, as the latter would be weird. That goes back in the pocket. ]
Dr. Gottlieb. I'll return with an ignorant question -- are you not human? Of a sort, that is.
[ Stupid, maybe, but with a human looking skeleton, Hermann'd assumed. ]
this is my new personal goal
* that's hilarious, is his typical cue. But the script's been torn up and the pieces burned by now. He's not supposed to exist at this point, in this underground or any other. Time to step off the beaten trail. It's a weirdly liberating sensation.]
Sans. I'm a skeleton. 'S a type of monster, technically speaking.
[The statement might be obvious, but Sans's earlier question felt kind of obvious, so they're even on that front. And, hey, here comes his favorite part of the conversation. The hallowed handshake.
No sooner do their palms meet, a wet thpppptt peels out into the air. This is why Sans always comes equipped with a whoopee cushion - there are some parts of the script that are just too priceless to relinquish. Not yet, anyhow.]
Whoops.
[Zing.]
i'm rooting for you; 1/3
[ The distinction, Hermann thinks, the bit of subtlety, is the suggestion the skeleton had not belonged first to a breathing, skin covered human. Yes, it is obvious that he is a skeleton, and one might naturally assume that a skeleton capable of walking and talking and bad puns is a monster, but -- that distinction. A monster as opposed to a human, without having been.
And, again, of the class distinct from those that would instinctively attack.
Case in point: he shakes hands.
... except... ]
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does not
know how to react.
He looks, his face twisting, between the skull and their hands, before yanking his back with disgust. Clearly an artificial sound, though he's more reminded of that obnoxious app Newton had put on his phone. ]
W-what, why, what is wrong with you?
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Sorry.
[But his grin's still practically splitting his skull in two, which is a fair indication that he isn't, really. He holds the cushion out to Gottlieb with a low chuckle.]
Huh. I was wondering whether that survived the ride here.
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He briefly considers grabbing it and chucking it into the lake. Only, he'd probably not throw far enough, and he's not that annoyed, and this guy isn't Newton. He's only that (intentionally) rude with Newton, who uniformly deserves it. ]
I see your priorities are in good order.
[ If Hermann was more generous, he'd allow two things: the comfort of a familiar object and the accompanying comfort of routine. Neither of which, if not in this specific context, Hermann is unfamiliar with. This joker likely did this sort of thing a lot.
Because he isn't entirely ungenerous, especially these days, it makes quick work of his irritation. ]
Were you aware of any part of that 'ride'?
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Usually I am. This was a bit out of the norm, even for me.
[Going from one place to another? Not so strange. Even when it happens unexpectedly. The world will stutter and things will...be exactly the same they always are. Heh.
This is significantly different, for a vast number of reasons. Sans isn't quite sure yet how to categorize it.]
People talkin' about a "Door" or something but, uh, in my experience these things aren't as simple as all that.
[It's hard to quantify. Harder still to think about because, ugh, thinking means migraines, which he's had quite enough of. But the bottom long and short of it is: time and space don't typically get carved right through by something as simple as a door or a window. Spacetime isn't paper. It's not even really flat, it's like a more plasmic, foaming entity than anything else, and the fact that people are content to talk about him ending up on the "other side" of a "Door" like he took a wrong cab is more than enough to raise some red flags.]
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Usually, the norm, and his experience being considerably more complex.
His eyebrows heave a sigh (not really) and make the familiar trek back up his forehead, settling into the old groove, before gravity beckons them back down. ]
No, but I doubt the 'Door' is truly as simple as we experience it, or as it's been explained.
[ Rather, he wants to doubt. He's seen a bit too much magic over his time at Haven, without any ability (if, he also wanted to think, mostly because of a lack of device for measurement and observation) to determine it scientifically. His skepticism of a supernatural and magical without a rational explanation had needed take a backseat to the immediacy and limitations of the moment. Which did not mean he accepted that there was nothing more behind them. Humans had throughout history assumed magic only to later understand. The spontaneous generation of maggots. Space filled with aether. Weren't gods and myths so much of that? ]
Whether we'd have any hope of making sense of it is another question, of course. So you've done some of that, have you? In your experience.
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[Not something he ever elects to talk about openly all the time - just imagine the comedy gold that's come of it - but in this case, he doubts he made a wrong turn during one of his shortcuts (patent pending), because a) there's no way he sauntered off with the goal of cutting straight to Grillby's, comedic intentions or not, b) he'd kind of been slowly and dramatically dying at the time to prove a point, c) this just went and replaced one Underground with another, d) he doesn't do travel between different dimensions that break the script and general outline of things, and e) he just forgot why he was compiling a list in the first place, so he gives up.
The faux organization crumbles as soon as he started putting up scaffolding, so he more or less just lets his mental list fall into familiar disarray. That's a little better. It's easier to cherry-pick the important bits like this.]
Can't say it's ever as simple as going through a "Door" of any kind. It's more just like, heh. [He laughs quietly, like it's a private joke.] Like taking a shortcut. 'Cept I always know where I'm gonna end up.
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For one, it could be he's only capable of short shortcuts. It could be he's capable of going farther, but limited by some feature of this place.
Hermann considers him, then smiles, a thin, not entirely humorless thing. ]
You certainly make it sound as simple. Well, it also sounds like a useful thing, even if it isn't doing you much good now.
[ Now as opposed to here, as it's likely it will be in the future. If they greet their newcomers with spiders. ]
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[He shoots the cave ceiling a look that might be construed as disgusted despite the permanent nature of his smile. Might be, if you were thinking real creatively and were adapt at reading into those little facial nuances of a skeleton's facial area. It's an inexact science.]
Traded one Underground for another. Just my luck.
[If Sans can pride himself on one thing, it's reading people. And from what he can tell, based on the way he's talking about this stuff and his general demeanor and his eschewing of puns (all right, so that's not a terribly unique human trait), this guy seems an intellectual type.
Bottom line, that's fantastic. Sans never gets to break out this kinda material. Most of it flies right over people's heads, which is ironic, because most of the time he's the shortest guy in the room.]
This place? Can't even go fission if the mood strikes me.
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Sometimes disgust factored into those emotions. It doesn't help too much now, because when he's good, he still has to pay close attention. He's simply not looking that closely at Mr. Sans's face. Partially because he has low expectations of it even being possible for a skull to have subtlety in its expressions, and so, it will take him time to notice.
Still, he understands that by hoot, Mr. Sans means quite the opposite, even before the expansion. He's thisclose to empathetic, as he's traded one prison for another, but.
He's annoyed.
The problem is, Hermann isn't immediately annoyed, because first, he betrays himself.
First, he processes the sentence, and it's quick, too quick for him to stop himself, he gets it too quickly, because at least if he'd had to think about it, he could have reminded himself the appropriate response was weary disgust.
But he gets it, so he snorts.
Second, then and only then, does he scowl, but his furious look is entirely geared at himself. ]
That was awful. We are both lesser men--creatures--for having heard it.
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C'mon, that one was a little bit funny. Admit it.
[And then, because he can't resist:]
No need to be so negative.
[Yes. Truly he is making the best first impression possible.]
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[ Pause.
Realization. ]
I mean, it wasn't, so there's nothing to admit.
[ As simply refusing to admit it implies that it was, in fact, a little bit funny. Clearly that snort was simply because he had gunk in his nostrils. (Gunk = a bad pun that actually made him laugh.)
Hermann opens his mouth at the next one and nearly, nearly, destroys himself.
He almost says it.
He almost says, "I've always thought of myself more a neutron."
Mr. Sans may not understand why he abruptly looks so horrified. He may also not understand why, instead of actually responding, Hermann looks viciously away and hisses, ]
If Newton shows up, I'll kill him.
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What, as in Isaac? Pretty sure we're a few centuries too late for that one.
[201X is a fairly distant year in the grand scheme of things.]
I mean, gravity's as much a pain as any other law of the known universe, but I ain't gonna fault ol' Newton for that, y'know?
[Especially because gravity is one of those few things that Sans knows for a fact isn't as beholden to those immutable laws as everyone thinks. Perks of having those little scraps of magic in him.]
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He hadn't even intended for refuse to be one at all. His realization had been that he'd inadvertently admitted it. ]
What?
[ Hermann blinks at the comment and in doing so, realizes he'd hissed fully aloud. It's sometimes hard to tell, when he's getting worked up over Newton. Usually the man's there for it, and so it's as natural as breathing, spitting something at him. ]
Er, no. Well, probably we are, unless the Door later swings open for Sir Isaac Newton. These places don't tend to care much for a linear perception or limitation of time.
[ A necessary pause for the possibility of that, before he decides he really cannot think about that at the moment. (What if Dr. Turing, Dr. Einstein, what if (too many names)--?!) ]
No, of course we cannot fault the man for the discovery. I was referring to my -- colleague, a Dr. Newton Geiszler.
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[Hey, now he knows a Newt fella. They got pretty well acquainted over discussions of spiders, ribcages, and whatever the heck a Yao is. He wonders briefly if the two might be one and the same.
But heck, might as well ask. Sans taps at the side of his skull in the temporal area thoughtfully.]
Messy hair, dark glasses, face a little messed up?
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stares.
(1) Furrowed with confusion, though within the second, that transitions to a pallor, to his eyes widening;
(2) his hands now fumbling, in fact so much he drops his cane as both try to get at his pockets, going for that phone;
(3) as he looks rapidly between Mr. Sans and his hands. ]
Awfully pitched voice, obnoxious leather jacket, probably had quite a fit over the look of you? The puns, too, oh God, no, I don't want to think about it --
[ Phone!
Except he yanks it so hard out of his pocket, it goes flipping up in the air, and he only just snatches it. Now scanning rapidly through the list. ]
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That's certainly a Reaction, capital-R. And here Sans hates capital letters, but this one seems to warrant it. Gottlieb might be panicking, or the nearest thing to it without actually panicking, but his hands are a disordered flurry over his pockets and he's talking very rapidly, which the hallmarks for some panicked behavior, if not actual panic.]
Hey, he was a pretty good audience.
[Actual laughs, for one. That's a rarity.]
Please tell me the whole "killing him" bit was a figure of human speech.
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