Event Log: Fourth Wall, Part Two

[hadrielmods]

Who: Everyone in the city + Fourth Wall visitors!
What: Part two of the fourth wall event, hosted by Sorrow, Rage, and Hope!
Where: All around the city
When: November 1st-November 7th
Warnings: Visitors from other worlds!

Welcome to Hadriel! Or, for those who have been here, please continue enjoying your stay. Perhaps you arrived here last week, and have been wandering around since then, making new friends. Or perhaps you've just arrived, and have no idea what's going on. You may have woken up in the colosseum, or near a temple, or in one of the numerous other locations in the city. You might be confused and frightened to find yourself in this underground city, or maybe you're just wondering why you haven't been sent home yet, when others have.

Whatever the case may be, the situation in the city has changed somewhat. There is still a gently glowing path leading you to a nicely-outfitted party, but the specifics of it have changed. If you're a new arrival, it'll be easy to follow the path and find the party - if you're not, well, the color of the light has changed, signalling that something's different. Maybe you want to check it out?

Around the clearing are gently glowing flowers, illuminating both the tables and the rest of the area, bright enough to make things clear even when the larger light at the apex of the cave is gone. On the tables are an array of different kinds of food - however, sampling this food will quickly make it clear that nearly everything is spicy, whether subtly so or with a burning heat. The cookies seem to have chili oil in them, the dip has jalapeno-like peppers. It's hard to find anything that won't burn your mouth a bit. If you're lucky enough to find something that doesn't, though, it will most certainly be somewhat bitter or quite sour. That doesn't mean the food tastes bad - if spicy and sour are your sort of thing, they're delicious! If you're looking for something more normal, though, you're out of luck.

Also on the tables are a variety of drinks, and these at least are not spicy. Instead, they're the sort of warm, comforting drinks that might remind you of home, of curling up in a soft blanket while rain falls outside. Warm cocoa, hot cider, teas of various flavors. Just the sort of thing to soothe a worried newcomer.

Decorating the area are various banners with welcoming messages saying things like 'HADRIEL' 'THIS IS A PARTY' 'EAT FOOD' and 'DO NOT DIE'. They are all identical, with large black block letters on plain white paper. They look very similar to something that you might print out on a standard office laser printer at the last minute if you have no discernible sense of humor or fun.

Scattered around can be found exciting party games such as pin the tail on the donkey and musical chairs. Here and there can also be found various pinatas of different types. Break them open, see what comes out! If you're really lucky it'll be candy - if not, it might be full of bouncy balls or cherry tomatoes. Good times!
_

Or maybe you don't like parties? No worries. The rest of the city has plenty of places to explore- maybe you'd like to stumble in our Silent Hill zone, have a quick look around the alien orchard, or check out any of the god temples that can inspire their chosen emotion. Be careful not to get lost in the tunnels leading away from the cave- none of them can actually move you above ground, but you may run into a few monsters on the way.

For those of you who came last week, here's your chance to help out newbies along with the people who have been here forever! Join in on the festivities if you like, or try to orient as many of the others as you can. Rule the newcomers at musical chairs, continue your fight club, pick up a second weird cave girlfriend and then watch as they dump you and hook up with each other! There's no end to the possible fun.
_

Enjoy the fourth wall event at Hadriel! Once you're settled in feel free to explore the rest of the city! Find a house, find a new monster, or simply scavenge for supplies.

Fourth wall characters do not enter with phones so they cannot reach the network- however, if you'd like to handwave that they somehow got ahold of Mello's Newcomer guide to avoid the 'where am I/what is this' sort of questions, then feel free!

Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers November 1st-November 7th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well! Fourth wall characters will not have posting access, so grab an in-game friend if you wanted to do anything separate from the main log.
► Fourth wall characters will be in the city for at least one week. If you want them to stay longer, our applications are now open!
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!

Comments

Muscovy | Open!

[muscovy]

[Those who know the little nation, or have seen him around before, might have noticed that he has been oddly absent for a few days - neither has he hung out at the clinic, nor has he stalked anyone. He hasn't even stalked Rey, which should ping those who know his routines as especially odd.

But he can be found again now, all over the city, using yarn and other means to fastidiously tie down flowers - anchor them to nearby trees, to each other, sometimes even putting down heavy stones and wrap the yarn around them if there is no other means of anchoring the flowers around.

An odd web of yarn around all the flowers is starting to spread throughout the orchard and wherever else a flower can be found in the city.

Whenever he is done with one, he will very carefully brush his fingers over a resilient part of the flower and tell it with a sharp, cheerful smile:]

You will stay here, yes?

i'm screm

[itstheend]

[Chara's following the trail of yarn and yarned flowers with a mix of utter confusion and curiosity, dragging a large bone in the ground behind them and leaving a similar trail. They like yarn, although they're not sure why, and they liked flowers, so why not? Inevitably, they are lead to the culprit, just in time to watch him create his latest artwork.

They wait for him to finish before speaking. He looks like another kid, and unarmed at that, so they think they could take him if a fight broke out.

*He smiles like you do.

Like they're smiling right now.]

What are you doing?

Edward, the Black Prince | Bladestorm: Nightmare | Open

[princeofhearts]

[That gently glowing path is not at all easy to follow for some of the newcomers here; weary from both battle and the weakness in his own body, it is quite impossible right now for Edward, Prince of Wales and heir to England's throne, to walk far. Hadriel had swept him up from his time of recuperation, away from the battlefield where he had been sat going through reports; the timing could only have been worse had he been undergoing the 'delights' of treatment his doctors provided.]

[Right now he's pulled himself away from the path to sit against a wall, somewhat shadowed, as he tries to gather his strength. Without his armour or any weapon there is no real way for Edward to defend himself should hostiles appear, though in truth it would be hard to fight even with a sword in his hands.]

[Alone and hindered by his sickness, he is more vulnerable than he has ever been before and it's rather a strange feeling. No prince is ever left unguarded, after all, much less the heir to the throne.]

[It is unfortunate, therefore, that the shock of this situation to his system causes Edward to lap into unconsciousness...]

[svensk]

[He's been here for a couple of nights now, and while he isn't starved yet, he can feel himself getting quite hungry. So when he finds a clearly unconscious but still alive vessel lying around the city, he's not going to say no to snacking on it a bit.

Not too much, he has no interest in dropping bodies here - the population of this place is terribly small, really, and that is the main reason why he is this hungry, he hasn't dared to feed ever since coming here - but just a little bit...

He picks the unconscious man up and carries him a little distance to a safe and hidden corner. Hm... talking about not dropping bodies, he should probably get this guy to the clinic that he saw earlier once he's done. The guy really doesn't look good, and doing your civilian duty, so to speak, can earn you positive points in any kind of society. And most humans consider helping the wounded a good deed.

After feeding.

He throws a quick glance out onto the street to make sure that nobody is watching and then sinks his fangs into the guy's neck. It won't hurt - if Edward feels anything, it will be almost ecstatic bliss. There is a reason why donor cults can form around Kindred. It will take a little bit, though, also because he doesn't just drink but monitor the vessel's physical status as he does so. Can't have him collapse...]

Dave Strider | Homestuck | Open

[texanknightime]

There is a short teenaged boy standing in the clearing, staring around the tables with a black face: or at least part of a blank face, the majority of his face is covered by large aviator-style sunglasses. He's wearing red pajamas, with a hoodie that has the symbol of a red gear on the front, and a long flowing cape. In one hand he holds a broken-off bastard sword with a facifully-worked hilt. Wisps of white-blonde hair escape his hood and make faint shadows on his pale face.

At last he asks, in a slightly-squeaky teenaged voice that aims for a level deadpan tone but doesn't quite hit it when his voice cracks at the end: "What the ever-loving fuck?"

time travel protags unite

[itstheend]

[Chara has been here an entire week, and evidently that's long enough for them to be officially able to Mess With The Newbies.

Look. Look. He's making it too easy.]

You died during your anachronistic renaissance faire. I am the gatekeeping demon to this afterlife and while I am supposed to torment you for a sufficient amount of chocolate I might be convinced to look the other way.

[Because a small, cherubically smiling child in a striped sweater screams 'demonic', right? Their red eyes might be having to do a lot of the heavy lifting in this obviously blatant lie.

*Charaaaaa

It's just harmless fun, that might possibly get them chocolate, is it not? That sword is getting a curious look, but the large bone they're carrying has better range if he tries anything, they think.]

| karen walker. will & grace.

[beaverhausen]

( in the middle of the party is one (1) impeccably dressed woman. one might even wonder how you end up in Hadriel and still look that groomed afterwards. but, well,

money

said impeccably dressed woman also looks as unimpressed as she could ever be, from the Armani around her neck to the Chanel Slingbacks on her feet, she practically bristles with all the annoyance of a newbie, picking up a drink, taking a sip and-

spitting it out. )

Is this non-alcoholic?

( is this not supposed to be a party?

... it's a good job she has a flask in that Chanel handbag of hers. and maybe she's pouring the whole thing into that cup of hot chocolate.

... yeaaaah. )

Re: | karen walker. will & grace.

[knifecollecting]

[Jo watches the woman for a moment, and then the flask is out and Jo has to laugh.

The woman doesn't look like she belongs here, but she sure drinks like she does.]

Are they better with alcohol?

micah kelly | raise the earth crau | prose or brackets | open!!

[enflammen]

Micah wouldn't exactly say this is an entirely unexpected departure from his life - after all, living in the aftermath or a catastrophic alien invasion tends to shift your expectations for what's possible - but waking up in a completely new place without explanation isn't exactly something he imagined he'd be doing today. Regardless, he seems to be taking it remarkably well, with patience and interest instead of fear or anger, which might seem to indicate that he is not as new as he actually is - an easy mistake to make, since he bears a striking resemblance to one of Hadriel's existing residents.

The differences between him and Mello should be obvious to anyone who knows Mello, though - Micah is a few years older, the burn scar over the left half of his face is notably better healed, and there's not a stitch of leather to be found in the plain black clothes he's wearing. The way he holds himself is less guarded, too, less tense - no hooded jacket pulled over his head or scarf wrapped around his mouth to obscure his features. It's almost as if he doesn't care if anyone sees his face. (Spoilers - he doesn't. Go ahead and stare if you must; he's not ashamed of how he acquired that scar.)

He finds his way toward the party, eventually, quirking an eyebrow at the signs as he reads them aloud and chuckles quietly to himself. He tries one of the cookies and nearly chokes on the unexpected spiciness of it, so he opts to pass on the rest of the food and instead settles in around the outskirts as he sips at a mug of hot cocoa and observes the rest of the revelers.

For the rest of the week, he's a much more visible presence than Mello has ever been: jogging along the river in the artificial dawn; investigating the contents of the shelves in the various shops; quietly reflecting inside Hope's temple, which isn't a church, but for Micah, it feels like a similar enough place to count. He may not appear immediately friendly to anyone who encounters him, but he doesn't project hostility, either.

[enchangement]

She spots him once, while running, and almost doesn't follow; these strange people without permanent fixtures into this world feel like a dream during which one bleeds, just to wake and find themselves all stitched up and no one knows what they're talking about.

Dangerous and powerful, really.

But this is Mello and it isn't...older, possibly wiser, definitely more comfortable in his own skin, scars and all. So he jogs, and she follows, and when he notices she gives a little wave.

sans | open

[skelebro]

[So it's sure been a fucking week, huh? People and people and more people. Some of 'em he knows, lots of 'em he doesn't, and all of 'em people who're more or less just - casually upendin' his worldview, as you do. He takes it in stride, naturally, 'cause that's just what he does. Him and the half a dozen other Sans-es here.

Point is, he needs some serious decompressin'. And he decides to get his decompressin' kicks by casually mingling about. He'll chat idly when he can, but mostly you'll find him pullin' a few interesting, er, "stunts." Spiking the variety of drinks with dribbles of hot sauce. Slippin' whoopie cushions under people's feet or on their chairs when they're not lookin'. Usin' up the remainder of his party poppers at inopportune times. Turnin' the banners around to write nerds only on the backs of 'em in red marker.

Just, y'know, fun party things.]

greting

[itstheend]

[Chara has been having a great deal of cathartic violence with the piñatas. Thanks to his brother, they have a large bone to whack them with, and they're doing so with vehemence. They don't even mind that a lot of the time it's not candy inside, though chocolate is always a bonus.

What? They're supposed to wear a blindfold? Ahahaha no.

They're walking backwards for a run-up when they step on something that gives under their foot. They stay still while the noise peters out and their passenger giggles, and then start scanning the surroundings, because there is a primary suspect and he strikes them as the sort that likes to observe the results of pranks.

If they spot him, they're giving him a flat look.

Really.]

nao midorikawa | smile! precure | ota

[windswepthare]

[while it's hardly the first time nao has been dropped in an oddball land, she's (mostly) been taking it in stride - especially when it comes to the food]

[nao's plate is stacked comically high and she hasn't even reached the end of the first table as she pops a potato wedge dripping with cheese into her mouth] De~lic~ious!

| piper halliwell. charmed.

[deceleration]

( okay, so Piper isn't exactly happy about being stuck in Alternate Underworld Hell for multiple days, but, well, she's a chef and they're offering food. sampling is necessary. (eating is, in general, necessary. the food she's found in the stores so far is all off. even the orchard is filled with bizarre things she doesn't quite recognise.)

but cookies. cookies look safe enough. enough like something homemade and nice-

and filled with- )

Is that chili?

( there's a pause while she swishes the bite around in her mouth, as if confirming the taste.

yep. sure is. )

... Not bad. ( chili and chocolate is a good combination, if not a little risky. it actually works here. )

[bheidh]

You dare more than most.

( Perhaps tasting unknown chocolate wasn't exactly a daring thing but in this place who knew what it could be. She'd never heard of the gods poisoning anyone but some people ended up suspicious of everything, although she hadn't yet seen anything that didn't give that cause. Confusion with the last god, and who knew who was left? )

Inara Serra | Firefly | ota

[courtesanal]

the path and the party

[Well, that's not suspicious at all. Still, Inara follows the path because never leave the well-trodden road for a footpath. If there's a group of people to be found, then there's information to be discovered.

And, probably, one of Serenity's crew. Mal making deals, Kaylee chatting with strangers, Wash trading stories. (River and Simon will surely be hiding somewhere, but Inara would rather not wander around on her own. She looks too put together and is too obvious a mark as it is; she'll be even more so if she goes exploring. She'd like to, though. Just not by herself.)

Soon enough, she arrives at the party and sees the banners-- and chuckles, though she'd love to laugh outright.]

Either someone tried very hard nor not at all.


food and festivities

[Inara is no stranger to spicy foods. Or bitter ones. Or sour ones. In fact, she has had just about every type of flavor and texture there is. (She has had a wide variety of clients and been to a vast assortment of parties.) So while others look disgusted or pained by what they eat, she is perfectly content.]

This right here isn't terribly spicy, [she says to the person who has just come up to the table she's standing by. Is it you? Is it your friend? Is it a stranger?

Or maybe it looks like you could use a drink. Inara gracefully crosses over to you and pours you a cup of tea that she knows is neutral in flavor.] Here, have this. It should help.

[Or find her taking delight in whatever she's just tasted. She's a very friendly woman, she won't mind conversation at all.]

[enchangement]

[ River's voice is a shriek of joy, the sort usually only attainable by teenage girls (of which she is one). Someone gives her an odd look and she pats them on the face as she goes past, rushing towards Inara to grab her in a spinning hug. ]

Even if it isn't permanent or in the land of the real, she's missed the way you smell.

[ Inara smells like beauty is, and smells are important. ]

Sato | Open

[infinite1up]

1. Armory

The Armory is a usually good place to find Sato. Things happen out in the tunnels: axes and knives take a beating, get lost or stuck in various creatures. He'd still prefer guns, but really, he'll work with what he's got.

Today seems to be a bit different than just a replacement pickup, though. In addition to his usual gear, machete, hand axe, and his old semi-automatic pistol he brought in with him when he arrived, he also has a duffel bag half-full of pointy objects sitting at his feet. He hefts a wickedly spiked morning star in one hand, clearly considering if it should be added to the bag or not.

Should anyone else happen to come in, it warrants at least a glance and a pleasant smile, waving with his free hand. "Afternoon," he greets. After all, anyone coming in for weapons could be interesting in one way or another.



2. Near City Guard HQ

One old man is sitting on the steps of a ruined building just down the road and within sight of the City Guard headquarters, looking particularly blank. One might think he was staring off into space, or perhaps just bored. Maybe even fell asleep sitting up.

Bored would be close to correct. But Sato is working on fixing that, keeping an eye on the comings and goings of the self-styled City Guard. He's close enough to have a good view, without really being intrusive, and taking mental note of every face he sees pass by.

And... if you happened by at just the right time, there might be an occasional clap, as though some unseen person couldn't decide if they were going to applaud or not.

In fact, while he waits and watches, Sato is playing around with the idea of summoning two black ghosts at once -- something he'd never bothered with much before. Unfortunately, they're not very coordinated as a pair, and so he has the invisible beasts attempting to play paddy-cake as a bit of practice. The result is very much like a certain infamous cat video, hence the occasional clap or two when they actually manage to slap hands together.



3. Party

Though less interested in the food than scanning the crowd of faces, new and old, that hasn't stopped Sato from picking up a mug of hot cocoa to sip as he stands off to the side of the tables. Eventually Warrick will have to show up somewhere. And never let it be said he doesn't have a sense of humor, standing directly under one of the 'DO NOT DIE' banners.

"I'm surprised it's still going," he says pleasantly. "Not a single monstrous party-crasher yet."

3 I couldn't resist after that line, sorry

[asrielasitgets]

[A small goat monster has gone straight to the teas, and is currently nursing a warm cup of jasmine between his paws after an unfortunate run in with a spicy cookie. He's getting homesick, and it reminds him of his dad.

He catches the last sentence and spots the grey human and just kind of. Hunches down into the cup with the demeanour of anyone caught doing something they're not supposed to.]

Sorry, haha. I didn't realise I wasn't allowed here.

[The other party didn't seem to have any restrictions, and he feels put out at possibly being excluded, but when amongst humans...]

Percival Adler | original | ota

[dustyasshole]

epona race music for ten hours

[maybe as you eat and chat, you can hear what seems to be the sound of... hooves?. and... yelling? abruptly something - or someone - zips by overhead, but before you can look to see what an unoccupied set of musical chairs explode as a big black horse, carrying one fourth wall goer, crashes through]

GET OUTTA THE WAY!

[please be advised, hadriel enforcement, you have one crossbow wielding witch hunter driving a black mustang ripping through the clearing in pursuit of a broomstick flying witch]

(ooc: HOPE THIS IS OKAY. JUST PUT ON SOME YAKKITY SAX AND HELP AND/OR HINDER EITHER THE HUNTER OR THE WITCH]

enter the witch

[wondersandwaistcoats]

[Emil zips past above the heads of the crowd, his tattered coat flapping in the wind as he clings for dear life on to the flying broom. He's injured and struggling to avoid the various banner decorations strung about.]

Come on, come on-

[He glances over his shoulder to see his pursuer.] Oh for-! DON'T YOU HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO?!

Chuck Shurley - God - Supernatural (S11)

[callmeshurley]

1. Ain't no party like a Heavenly party


[ To say that Chuck was superbly nonchalant about the entire affair would be underestimating the ability of a superentity to be nonchalant--or at least act that way. The fact was that He was positively delighted about being thrust into a world completely outside Creation, something made by others, something which was none the less having a good go at pretending to be his Work. That was exciting. Nobody had ever counterfeited Creation before.

It was a good try, in His esteem. Close enough, unless you looked right at the details. And Chuck was looking at all the details. He was drinking the homely, wonderfully tasty drinks, and chowing down on the spicy food as though there was nothing remotely odd about it. In fact very occasionally He would hum and say something like "I never would have thought of that" or "nice try."

The Lord of Everything was chilling out. He was enjoying his surroundings like He was out on vacation. Did God take vacations? He did.

Someone spoke, or He thought they did, and turning, eyebrows raised in question and nose buried in a mug of something deliciously chocolatey - He'd always been rather pleased with chocolate - He blathered out a reply to a question unasked: ]

Huh?

[ It was amazing that the great I Am didn't spit hot chocolate all over you, but don't mind that. ]


2. All creatures great and small


[ It was always important to stop and smell the flowers. At least Chuck was giving it a good try. Don't think He hasn't noticed the distinct lack of bees buzzing around here! What is a park without bees, that's what He wants to know? Where are the mosquitoes and moths, the creepy crawly caterpillars, the bats and badgers and doormice to eat them all?

A lot of it is very impressive. It is. But it's the details that are missing, and that frustrates Him. Don't they know how important it is? It's all very well making trees and rivers and keeping people fed, but any pudding could do that. No. Where were the creative little details? Where was the love?

You see, guys? Even God can tell that there's no LOVE. And damn it, He would have really have enjoyed a good lay about in a hot spring right about now.

Either way--there is Chuck in the garden park, smelling the flowers and making disgruntled faces as He looks up into the trees. Come and ask Him why He's so unhappy. ]


3. The Inimitable H.I.M.


[ God walks into a bar. He sits in an empty stool and accepts a drink of the dealer's choice, and then, almost morosely, He nurses His drink, stroking his fingertips about in a spot of liquid left on the bar's surface.

It was a charming little detail that. Everyone always missed out on the details, and the drops of spilled alcohol on the bar were always there. It didn't matter how diligent the bartender, or how careful the patrons, or how many beer mats there were to hand, the lost booze was always there. It was intentional, at least on His behalf, but this place really was just a fraud; a cheap sweatshop copy.

And yet here was the lost booze, resembling the humanity that were patrons to the bar itself. It was enough to make even Chuck thoughtful. He drew new inventions into the tabletop - always Creating - and yet they vanished as fast as He mused on them. What if humans walked around on two toenails, like goats, instead of flat feet? What if octopi needed to wear shoes? What if He stuck a dog and a cat together, the front of each on each end?--How would it poop? What if what if what if? ]

two.

[kickingand]

[ Dean is walking.

A good question would be why is Dean walking and not in the bar, and the answer would be because he's avoiding the possibility of running into his father there. There's only so many conversations he can have with his dad before he feels as if his insides are trying to churn themselves into nothing, and so he might as well just go back to what he did before Cas- move. Put his feet under him and walk, because it's one of the few things he has here. Where he once would have picked up in the Impala and gone as a comfort, now all he can do is try to get through this by roaming, waiting to see where it all goes, hoping his father will stop being all the things he is and knowing he'll never change.

If you can't go around it, might as well go through it.

But right now he's not trying to get up in his father's face, navigating opposite of where John's been hiding out and heading towards the park, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. Which is where Dean just about stops dead in his tracks and cocks his head, looking mind boggled to see the Prophet meandering about grumpily. Though, something almost more important catches his eye, and it's coming from where he's tucked his amulet beneath the layers of his shirts: the bright gleam of light catching his eye. ]

Chuck?

Jael | original | ota

[torquedup]

i. the party

[The first thing Jael notices upon waking is the air. It's dank like any other cave air but it smells cleaner than what she's used to breathing in the city, definitely cleaner than what she was breathing in the wasteland. The second thing she notices is that her cranial microchip has lost all access to the network and every time she conjures a holoscreen, it reads 'connection lost'.

As lost as she feels, Jael makes it a point to look the opposite. With her black hair chopped short, tattered leather jacket and what looks like an uzi tucked into a shoulder holster underneath, she lends the impression of someone who's prepare to deal with whatever comes her way. When she stumbles into... whatever the hell this is supposed to be, no change of expression or emotion registers on her face. Golden eyes touch every unfamiliar face, object and banner like the tip of an icy finger. One banner in particular seems especially out of place.]

...Do not die.

[Well, at least now she knows she hasn't died and gone to some shitty, anti-climactic afterlife.]

ii. the park

[To someone who came from a world with little natural plant-life, the park looks like a jungle set upon a vast ocean of green. Jael circles a tree, her eyes scaling its trunk with intense laser focus until they reach the branches above. She has to touch everything to be sure it's real. Eventually, she kneels in the grass and presses her palms into the cool greenery. She rips up a few blades and chews one between her teeth. It doesn't taste particularly good but it doesn't taste like plastic, either.

If she happens to look up and catch someone watching her, she'll pause to meet their gaze and inquire evenly:] The fuck are you looking at.

wildcard

[Need help killing a monster? Jael can definitely do that. Or maybe you've caught her wandering in the caves or into your house uninvited like she owns the place. Throw whatever you got at me.]

ii.

[devilsavocado]

[ Matt's senses haven't dulled in this cave and he may not be able to see her but he can hear and sense what she's doing just fine. He stops and tilts his head towards her slightly, as if to confirm-- yep, she definitely just ate a blade of grass. ]

Um. Nothing at all.

[ Matt raises his hands. He's blind, after all. The white cane and dark glasses should signal that quite easily, but then not every world has sunglasses, who knows. ]

Q - Star Trek: TNG, Voy

[fingersnapping]

1. Partaaaaay!!!

[ Q loves a party, and to be quite honest he'd have probably have dropped in all on his own if not for the fact that he'd in fact been dragged here entirely against his will. That was the problem with doors between parallel universes and entities that didn't know how to control them, but what are you going to do? The entire mess would surely sort itself out soon enough, and he'd be flung back - quite rightly - to where and what he'd been doing when he'd been so rudely snatched away, and eternal life would go on as magnificently as it generally did when you were Q.

Well, so long as your entire race didn't kill each other first, and consequently take everything else out with them.

No, this was a nice little reprieve, and Q was entertaining himself. Fair enough, really. Okay, so he couldn't perform his usual tricks - and the dancing girls he kept trying to summon left a little to be desired, and vanished a minute later, but...well, he was trying.

It was just temporary impotence. A little bit of performance anxiety. It had been a while since he'd done anything like this in front of a crowd after all. So as they say: when in Rome, do as the Romans do--which was a terrible idea, since they all died of lead poisoning, but whatever. That, therefore, was why Q wore a blindfold, and was swinging the bat surprisingly accurately not at the pinata but at the nearest person to him almost every time. It was a stunning skill, unless one happened to know the secret of how it was done. But it's like magic--a magician never reveals his tricks. ]


2. Confused by Confusion

[ Unimpressed was what Q was.

Confusion! What a wonderful name for a god. Yes, a lesser god, and clearly by no means as powerful as Q usually was, but even so! AND YET here was this god with a wonderful name and a caveload of albino lab rats to test their prodigious skillset on and...what?

Where was the confusion? Why was everyone running around with their heads on straight? At the very least, how difficult would it really have been to switch everyone's genitals around--you know, but them on the back rather than the front. What was wrong with dropping a rock on someone's head and making the entire population of this miserable little cave think that the sky was falling? If it was Q--

The very next person he met would reap the grim rewards of this line of thought. Q may have been neutered, but he had enough power to turn a stranger's bodypart into an animal's. So enjoy your zebra head, or your dog paws or your brand new fish tail. It's only for a minute or two, until the multidimensional being's hoodoo wears off. ]

2 yolo

[understate]

( um.

um. why did you want to give her horse hooves? for one thing, not even the animal she turns into, and for another-

well, it's incredibly difficult to figure out how to place her feet now. )

... This is a little bit inconvenient.

( magic. gosh. you can't just go around working on people randomly. that's rude. )

IV | Original (Project SERAPHIM)

[witnesses]

I. Party

Among the influx of new and old, stands a woman who appears to come from a time of old herself. If not for an air about her that seems off, one would wonder if she hailed from sometime either before or during the McCarthy era.

It isn't just the blank smiles or the dead eyes that give her true nature away. Though there is certainly something wrong with her eyes, given their strange, inhuman shade of orange that at times they could almost glow when she casts a vacant smile, hollow and devoid of empathy for her fellows.

Yet, despite the surface levels of her disposition, IV is quite amused. Most people who decides to initiate conversation will receive some level of pleasantries, ad even a name upon inquiry. But the name she provides isn't her own. To most, they get Theora de la Vega, a humble researcher who seeks to better the lives of humanity by creating powered exoskeletons for a New Hampshire university. In truth, it had been a few years since IV had assumed such an identity, growing rather bored of the charade.

Over time, her mask slips. This is not a woman of compassion, who could care less for those who would benefit from her inventions.

Truth be told, she is just plain bored. She should be back at her prison, at the old drawing board. She should be a lot of things, and yet she is here.

As hours pass, the woman with the unnatural orange eyes neither sips a drink nor nibbles a piece of food. Despite this, she can be seen pulling out a cigarette. A little trinket she had confiscated from the many humans at her sky prison.

"You got a light?" she asks the nearest, be they a curious denizen or accompanying visitor.

II. Wandering

Seeing that IV has no need for food or sleep in her present body, she spends much of her time awake. She doesn't tire, doesn't fret over the tiresome upkeeps of a mortal meatbag, though she has taken brief strolls in such vessels. Tragically, they never seemed to last very long before breaking down, and thus IV has never sought the appeal of living.

She has no reason to live here, either, but there is a sense in the air that intrigues her. It's not solely the lack of airwaves in the atmosphere, or her ability to synchronize with a physical network (a technical kind, yes. A magical one, however? Not really).

There is another synthetic here, like here. Perhaps more. She can sense them. The vibrations are faint, barely noticeable. IV has time. She has time and boredom, and plenty of both things to spare.

"Where oh where are you hiding, little cuties?" IV hums in a singsong whisper as she trudges along. While she does not appear to be dressed for a casual stroll through some parts of the cities, with her long fur coat, pencil skirt, blouse, and heels that make her three inches taller than she already is.

Even though she may be armed with nothing more than a shock baton, the warden of a synthe-run sky prison is still not a force to be reckoned with. If nothing else, her presence alone is enough to give one the jeebies.

Party

[prettyhotstuff]

"Sure, babe. I'll light your fire any time," Kasai grins. A classy looking lady with fucking dead evil-looking orange eyes? Yeah. He can totally dig that.

He flicks his fingers, starting a small flame flickering near, but not actually on, his fingertips. Holding his hand out for her, he gives IV his most charming smile... which honestly comes off as the skeeziest grin ever, especially considering his own level of dress right now: bright red untucked dress shirt, cargo pants and the ol' baseball cap with the kanji for 'fire' picked out in metal studs. Mr. Fashion, he ain't.

Mara Sov | Destiny | OTA

[reefwolf]

The unenlightened called the Reef caves, sometimes. This, she could hardly convince herself was one. The ceiling was far too high for it to seem like one. Natural? The caves on Earth could have been this large for all she or anyone knew anymore. The Guardians didn't wander too far from their Traveler's Light. Even the wreckage they crawled through looking for Darkness to exterminate wasn't this large. This place could have contained quite a bit of it.

As a creature who dwelt on the edge of twilight--in the grey between Light and Dark--she couldn't say that she was all that displeased with being out from under the scrutiny of the inscrutable alien...thing. The Awoken protected their own.

How was it she had ended up here again? She couldn't remember. One minute her throne room, the next waking here. Her guards would be displeased. Petra would be distraught.

She surveyed the party, slowly, and her glowing blue eyes finally landed on one of the banners: "HADRIEL." A name? Whose? This place's, perhaps? Did it matter what the cave was called? Her gaze became a glar the longer she looked at it. It was despicable and she despised it.

"What does it want, then?" Was there even an answer to that question?

[justice_from_above]

Pharah's making rounds, checking people out, still trying to get her bearings and try to figure out who is behind of this whole thing. She looks over at Mara with the comment, thinks on it a moment, and then shakes her head.

"I wish I knew. They are not exactly being upfront about their intentions."

Lukas | OC

[badatmyjob]

A. Party!
[There is one guy at this party who seems totally into it. A 6'6" guy with peach-colored skin, horns (one broken), a very long tail, and a hole in his face. He's got a drink in his hand, as much as a smile on his face as he can manage, and seems generally okay with whatever is going on. Right now he's hovering over the Pin the Tail on the Donkey set up, looking a little puzzled.]

Hey, what's this about?

B. Out and About
[The rest of the city isn't so nice, and Lukas isn't really enjoying being lost. The underground structures remind him a lot of the Underworld, so there's an odd familiarity to it all. But if this was part of the Underworld it's definitely not one he's ever even heard about. It gets to a point where he's hungry and tired and not at all sure what to do with himself. While he's a bit imposing-looking as he approaches you, being a 6-and-a-half-foot tall demon, the worried look on his face and the way he wrings his tail in his hands really takes the edge off.]

Uh, can you tell me how to get out of here? Is there a way out of here?

A

[torquedup]

Hell if I know. Something about pinning a tail to an ass?

[She tilts her head and looks behind him.]

Looks like somebody got you already.

W.D. Gaster (pre-Core) | Undertale | OTA

[filenotfound]

A. Yesterday Upon the Stair

There is a man here. Or so one would assume. It would be more accurate to say that there is something vaguely, ostensibly, man-shaped here. A presence, if nothing else. Tall, skeletal, wearing black. It's hard to pick out any real details, as he's hard to even look at. He's easier to see if you don't look directly at him, or if you look through him. If you can manage it, you might notice more--two cracks in his skull that almost split his face into thirds. Sharply intelligent lights in his eyesockets that seem to scan and take in every detail of his surroundings. Hands that keep moving, taking rapid notes in a small journal.

He is not supposed to be here.

He is not supposed to be anywhere.

He is not a monster accustomed to wasting time. Any terror at waking up in an alternate branch of reality surrounded by humans is swiftly dismissed. Assessments must be made, and quickly. Assess whether these humans are a threat. Assess the situation. Discover whether this city is an iteration of the Underground or not; determine the mechanism by which he arrived here, and whether it is possible to return.

Once the local humanity is found to be non-threatening (multiple observations of humans interacting with non-humans, potentially monsters, with no evidence that such a thing is out of the norm, nor any indication of hostility), he explores. He is quiet, unobtrusive, and the nature of his...existence makes it easy for him to escape notice. He observes. Takes detailed notes about the coliseum, the local temples; examines the architecture and concludes that these buildings were crafted by neither humans nor monsters. Draws a few rudimentary pictures of the spires and the cavern ceiling.

He does not approach anyone, human or otherwise. This is not his dimension; interference here would be unwise. Nor is he exactly a people-person.

I Met a Man Who Wasn't There

There is a party.

He is not one for parties. They have always made him uncomfortable. And this one is particularly unsettling. It has been a very, very long time since he has seen this many humans in one place.

Humans gathered together like this does not, in his experience, end well for monsters.

But he is here to observe. He is not that kind of doctor, but the behaviors and customs of the local populace is worth noticing, particularly since the majority of them seem to be from wildly different dimensions and timelines. He can tell just by looking; a faint flicker of light in his left eyesocket and he knows. Hardly anyone here exactly belongs here.

Again, he is trying to keep his interactions with people to a minimum. He stays on the fringes, constantly taking notes. His hands always seem to be moving.

He is starting to wonder how long this excursion across time and space is going to last. He cannot allow it to be permanent.

There is yet too much work to be done.

i say (a)gain. just Fuck Me Up

[skelebro]

The pages were like a nauseatingly fatidic confetti, powdered into the city like the dust off a dying monster. Letters, symbols, numbers, still without the binder where the entirety of that shit (he'd hate that, callin' his intellectual property "that shit," but he can get stuffed) was typically collated. Maybe he didn't deserve it. Maybe it'd be too much to ask, to get somethin' to bind it all together. It should always exist in pieces, 'cause it always existed in pieces. Assumin' it existed at all.

Still, though. All things considered, it was awful nice of his Wonderlandian double to give him a warnin'. Impossible things happen, and impossibilities, he's long since figured, just tend to up and do their own thing. That's the nature of anomalies. Outliers, they'll just up and scribble all over your carefully-recorded observations like the abstruse, atemporal little fucks they are. He despises them on principle, he's pretty sure. Or he would, if he wasn't such a mess about those goddamn kids.

Not that he's ever not a mess. That's nothin' new.

Still, he's been keepin' an eyesocket out. Doin' his best to, in any case. He's pretty sure some important stuff slips through the cracks (always does), but there's no way in hell (hah) that he'd miss this.

Heh.

Heh heh heh.

All right.

This is happenin' now.

Fine.

Cool.

He wants to drag his nonexistent coccyx into Hadriel, that's fine. It's all good. Sans will handle it. He don't handle a lotta things, but this pretty squarely lands on his shoulders, and he, uh. He's overdue to take a little responsibility, maybe. It was awful nice of this problem to up and vanish for him, all neat and tidy and convenient, but now they're gonna play this game.

And that's. Fine.

Sans shows up behind him with a leisurely grin, hands in his pockets. Maybe a bit older, a bit wearier than this version of the doc might remember. And there's somethin' to his eyesockets. Somethin' icy and flinted.




'Cause he thinks, he thinks about Chara, about the way they just straight-up broke when they saw those pages, and if that's how they reacted to one tiny, inconsequential piece of him, god only knows what either of the kids would do - what would happen to either of 'em - if they laid their eyes on this.





And he's screwed 'em both up enough as it is, don'tcha think?





"Heya, Doc," Sans rumbles, cheerfully. "Long time, no see."

Preston Garvey | Fallout 4

[prestonian]

[A bright light can either be good or bad news, in Preston's experience. Yet that doesn't stop him from approaching the festivities and keeping an open mind. He has no idea where the hell he is, and that means he'll need to chat up locals to get information. It's not something he shies away from, but still one must be cautious in strange lands. And boy does this not look like the Commonwealth.

He's not particularly hungry right now, but the hot cider peeks his curiosity and he decides to take a chance on it. The liquid looks clean enough at least, even if he's had worse. His eyes go to the banners, smirking a little at the "DO NOT DIE" one, and then decides to go ahead and start introducing himself.]

Excuse me. [He'll start of, trying to catch the attention of the person closest to him.] Don't mean to be a bother, but I was wondering if you wouldn't mind us talking for a few minutes.

[Or you can approach the man in the colonial inspired military outfit. Take a gander at the giant musket strapped to his back that definitely doesn't shoot bullets.]

tenderly jumps on

[publickenemy]

[ Piper wouldn't have even noticed anything different about the man in the hat were it not for the weapon at his back.

From that, she takes in his outfit and couples it with the laser musket - a gun used primarily by one group in the Commonwealth, and correct her if she's wrong but it definitely gives her an idea as to who he might be. With that, she approaches Preston, lit cigarette in hand. ]

Well.. I didn't think I'd be seeing a Minuteman here. [ ... ] Wherever here happens to be.

[ especially when word is that they were done for. ]

piper wright / fallout 4

[publickenemy]

[ There's a reporter in your midst. Piper had followed the trail of lights - as if she wasn't going to, obviously whatever was on the other hand was something that demanded to be seen by whoever left it there.

Or it can be a one way trip to an unpleasant death. Take your pick. It's not a deterant, and when she's followed it, she doesn't expect to be standing in some kind of party. It's not the Commonwealth, Diamond City or anywhere she's familiar with. ]

Don't die... how very ominous and helpful.

[ She's not in the loop, and doesn't like it. No, being in the unknown doesn't sit well with her - she needs the scoop. A problem if half of the people who look as confused as she does are as confused as her.

But it doesn't stop Piper from approaching people at random, forgoing the food in favor of talking to people. ]

Hi there. Piper Wright. [ and she's still looking at it like an interview, treating it like an interview. ] You look like you're having a good time... do you have a minute to answer a few questions?

Oh my god, SO EXCITED FOR OTHER FALLOUTS HERE

[tongueamok]

[Anyone who knows Carlisle would probably know that he'd never go to a party looking for a good time, and that's if he went to the party at all. He completely avoided the last one, and given the bags under his eyes, it seems like he probably should have skipped this one, too. Considering who may still be out and about in town, even he thinks that might've been the best course of action.

But there's a gathering in town, and where there's a gathering, there might be alcohol. Given his genetics, he's going to need a lot of it, and it's a shorter walk to the party than to the bar from his house, so to the party he goes. If there's one activity that sounds more promising than hiding in his room and waiting for his imminent demise, it's hiding in his room and waiting for his imminent demise while drunk. At least he'll be too inebriated to think about the mess he's made.

So he's over near the drinks, wondering which, if any, might be laced with something, when Piper approaches him. His eyes dart to her as she speaks to him, fearful for just a second, as though he expected someone else. His paranoia gives way to annoyance as he sighs.]

Fine, yes. Questions. What?

Niall Lynch | The Raven Cycle | Open

[firstdream]

A: The Party
[Niall is no stranger to wondrous things. He's seen more than his fair share of miracles, but this is on another level entirely. It's almost as if this entire city is some elaborate dream- one that he can't control and can't wake up from. If anything, that only serves to make it more fascinating, a mystery that tangles itself up before him and begs to be unraveled.

He's in the city for awhile before he happens on the party, just wandering around the various locations, seeing what there is to be seen. Niall is sturdy but sharp, fine-boned, with thieving fingers and wild eyes, but something about him seems to breathe calm through his surroundings in a way that none of his sons could ever quite manage. Despite the jarring displacement of this whole thing, he finds himself delighted when he finally comes across the gathering of people and he slides closer to the food table, reaching for one of the teas after a moment of indecision.

His hand bumps into someone else's when he reaches the table though, and Niall Lynch glances across from him with a friendly sort of smile.]

Sorry- did you want that?

B. Several days in | anywhere
[The first few days have been... intense, difficult to process once he met the others from Henrietta. Learning of his fate hasn't been pleasant, seeing what happened to his family firsthand has been sobering, and the clinginess has been nothing short of stifling, and so Niall sneaks out of the old raven house to collect some time for himself without some of the immense emotional burden weighing down on his shoulders.

He brings a mandolin with him- where he got it is anyone's guess, but Niall Lynch has always had his ways- and keeps it tucked under his arm until he's far enough away that he can let himself breathe again, somewhere near the bar before he finally sits down, tugging the instrument out proper and shifting to sit on a large piece of debris, with his long legs crossed underneath him.

Anyone who comes across him can likely hear him play a jovial little tune or two while humming along with his gentle voice. The tunes he plays aren't exactly masterful, but he's experienced enough to not make it sound awful, and he'll gladly make eye contact with anyone who happens to walk by and gesture them closer to be his audience.]

C. Open!
[ooc: Feel free to come across him anywhere doing mostly anything! Niall will likely be staying at the raven house for the week, but he's a wandering, curious spirit and will likely get himself into some sort of trouble before the week is up c: Ronan's close CR is free to recognize the resemblance between the two of them!]

Re: Niall Lynch | The Raven Cycle | Open

[zen_en_vert]

"No, please,"

Says Bruce, gesturing for him to take the tea with an open and firm gesture.

"I'll get another. Help yourself- and welcome to Hadriel, I don't think I've seen you here before."

Schuldig | Weiss Kreuz | Open!

[aufsassig]

A — AT THE PARTY

[So apparently he should've packed his blue gingham pinafore before he got snatched through the Door to wherever exactly this is, because that pathway of light is about as obvious of a Yellow Brick Road as a phenomenon can get, and he sure as hell ain't in Kansas anymore, Toto.

(The signs at the party are a nice touch, though. "DO NOT DIE", thanks, he's a big fan of that one, too. Ten points to whoever came up with that one; maybe some people would call that being a Debbie Downer in a nice party atmosphere like this, but whoever wrote that sign clearly has their priorities in the right order, and that's always something Schuldig can appreciate.)

So. Here's this fashion disaster milling around the party, trying only the food that he's seen other people eat first (since you Just Never Know, and he likes his intestines precisely the way that they are right now, thank you very much) and, at some point, beating the shit out of one of those pinatas, which nets him a handful of bouncy balls, and seals the fate of everything else in his vicinity.

And that is, you see, because if there's one thing in life that's dangerous, it's a bored Schuldig, and leaving him to his own devices to amuse himself usually ends badly for other people. And right now, he has bouncy balls, a throwing arm, and a can-do attitude.

Please try very hard not to get hit by one; he's having a jolly old time fastballing them at various surfaces and trying to catch them again no matter how they ricochet back at him.]

B — RESIDENTIAL AREAS

[If you're not catching this natural disaster at the party, however, it's possible you may see him when he's out exploring the city more properly. At the moment, his explorations have taken him to the residential district, wherein he's got his hands in his pockets and his red sunglasses perched on the end of his nose just so that he can look critically over the top rim while he judges the fuck out of this architecture.

Which is what he is doing, and audibly, to anyone who might be in his vicinity.]

Okay, so. Now I just have to ask. Somebody's gotta be the guy, someone has to ask the burning hard-hitting questions, and you know what, I'm the guy, today it's me.

[He motions vaguely with one hand, in a classic "can you believe this shit" sort of gesture.]

So, what? Does somebody just hate right angles? Did a perpendicular intersection of two lines shoot somebody's grandmother? What did ninety degrees ever do to deserve this? Do people around here just like living in doughnuts? Come on. There's gotta be a PTA Mom out there somewhere writing strongly-worded letters about this shit.

[...The hard-hitting questions, eh, Schuldig.]

C — CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

[Got a different idea? Toss me a prompt and encounter Schuldig somewhere else!]

A!

[strangelic]

[ Castiel is only here to make sure that there are NO DEMONS and NO DEAD FATHERS and just generally ensure that nobody he cares about is going to get their world pulled down around their ears, or find themselves with their skin scraped off. After last week's "party", Castiel is taking no chances, only this time he's being significantly less friendly than he was before. Azazel had smoked out, he'd said that he'd be back, so Castiel was prepared to find him anywhere, wearing anyone.

The high alert had him dropping his blade into his hand the very moment that a bouncy ball collided with his forehead. Okay, so maybe that was a little bit of overreaction, but he couldn't help himself. Tensed, he hunted out the projectile that had hit him, but it had already bounced off in three directions and rolled away under the table.

So instead, he strode toward the redhead that had attacked him, looking positively dangerous. ]

What are you doing? Who are you?

Miguel Zavala | Original | Open

[organgrinder]

Medical Malpractice ; cw for gore

[Of all the parties Miguel has attended over his life, either by invitation or gate crashing and once with the help of a particularly angry crocodile, this one has to be the strangest. The food is all wrong, the decorations seem to be moving on their own, and for the life of him, he can't find any of Aro's laughing friends.

It's hardly a party these days without one of the Sons wrecking havoc, is it?

Well, they've already left his mark. Miguel doesn't waste time in finding himself a table and goes to work, laying out his medical kit with his one good hand. His right is a mangled mess, weeping blood and a strange black, tar-like substance from several deep lacerations. If it looks like someone tried to hack his arm off with a machete, well. Funny you should mention that...

Approach him and you'll get a first hand experience of what it's like to watch someone clean and suture their wounds one-handed.

Miguel does all of this silently, and without much in the way of flinching. Being high as heaven does that to a person. Also the fact that being infected with the Black Sun tends to deaden the nerves. For better or worse, his good hand is steady and he knows what he's doing. It's just not pretty.]

Storytime.

[If you happen to run into Miguel after his adventures with the scalple and surgical staples, you'll find him tucked into a corner, blood dried all the way up both his arms, and happily reading a book without a care in the world. He's also starting to come off his high and as a result is getting twitchy.

Come say hello.]

Alice Quinn | The Magicians (books) | OTA

[anticlimactically]

[I: arrival]

Alice isn't sure what she's expecting to see on the other side of Quentin's Door. A Land, sure. They'd made it that far, she was reasonably certain that their working had been successful. She'd double- and triple-checked the math. But this? This is definitely not it. As much as she'd said to him, what she'd called him--a hollow man--it was before. She didn't believe it now. A path lights up under her feet and she frowns, fingers half-crooked in a gesture that looks uncomfortable, if not painful.

"Quentin, if your damn land gets me killed, I'm going to haunt your ass."

[II: party]

She still hasn't quite gotten the hang of eating, yet. It's only been a few months. She'll eat when food's placed in front of her, when the smells hit her--she still isn't over bacon--but eating as pleasure is still a ways distant. Maybe that's why instead of eating the peanuts in her hand, she's flinging them one by one at the hand-painted banners. Every now and then she'll pop one in her mouth, but mostly she just seems to be interested in pelting that large 'DO NOT DIE' sign. And maybe a passers-by or three. Oops. Sorry not sorry.

[III: Fear's temple]

She doesn't need to visit Rage's temple. She knows she can feel anger, still. The same goes for Sorrow, and for Confusion. Even for Delight, to her surprise. Hope she doesn't want an answer to, but fear...Before, she'd been fearless. Now, maybe she just wanted to see if it were still true. So here she is, wandering off the glowing path, as it were, pausing only a moment on the steps to Fear's temple before marching straight in like a woman going off to battle.

The followup is anticlimactic. The shudder that crawls her skin purely due to the chill air. "If that's the best you have, you're more pathetic than I thought." She's always known just how to goad someone for a response, although she has to admit she's not expecting much. Not from any God. Not any more.

III

[dustyasshole]

[a bark of laughter as he emerges on horseback at the foot of the stairs. the clatter of hooves might have tipped her off before that though]

You talkin' about the architecture or... [a wave at the general vicinity, encompassing the entirety of this godhood]

Connor Walsh | ota

[iustitiae]

this is a sign

[connor is checking out the signs, which seem a little bit better than last week in that sense of the gold star "you tried!" meme, but you didn't really try at all. right now he's literally trying to take one of the "'THIS IS A PARTY'" signs.

"why?" you ask

yeah but, why not?]

fiesta, fiesta

Honestly, I'm concerned what falls out of here isn't going to be candy.

[he's looking at what is most definitely an avocado shaped pinata, eating something distinctly quite sour but nonetheless both edible and yummy while deciding whether he (and by extension, you!) should take a swing at it.]

Like maybe it'll be a joke, or maybe it'll be something awful, like... [whats something awful] spiders.

[magician_king]

Well, I don't know what it was going to be before, but now that you've said that it's definitely spiders.

[Says Quentin, with a little roll of his shoulders as his skin gives one very thorough crawl.]