refiningspacetime: (Default)
refiningspacetime ([personal profile] refiningspacetime) wrote in [community profile] fleetlogs2014-11-25 01:55 pm

=> PHERES: Abscond.

=> PHERES: Abscond.
SUMMARY: Taking drinks from strangers is generally a bad idea. Pheres needs to be picked up from a party, but life is hard when your moirail is out of town and all of your friends are terrible. Luckily, there's always Fleetbound!

WARNINGS: None! Except for Pheres being thoroughly depressing in Lead him home.

THIS HAS BEEN FINALLY EDITED. For like the third time. Due to POV-switching shenanigans, you may occasionally encounter weird shifts / incorrect verb pluralisation at points that I missed in switching from 3rd person to 2nd person POV. Sorry! :c

For the most part, though, typoes should be fixed and continuity is now more accurate!

ALSO:
  Follow the story through the links above to ensure you're reading the correct, edited threads, please and thank youu
obstructedantiquity: (displeased)

[personal profile] obstructedantiquity 2014-11-30 10:07 pm (UTC)(link)
He's cowed, but evidently not helpless. He moves to tug his shoulder free, his grin now more of a grimace, and he tenses like he's about to bolt. "There's nothing wrong with it," he says hesitantly, "just--"

If he says something else, OA doesn't notice, because something else has attracted their attention. At first, they'd thought the little pinpricks of light drifting around were dust, or sunspots: sometimes that shit happens, when you're out in the day. But they're increasing, and they watch, eyebrows furrowed, as one drifts down onto their gloved hand.

As soon as it touches the glove, it becomes obvious it's not a fucking dustmite.

"Fuck!" It stings like they've just been burnt, and it's shock more than pain that has them snatching their hand back. Pheres watches, wide-eyed, says something, and then he fucking chirps at you, voice pitched in a wriggler's appeal.

When they look at him, it becomes obvious why. Hidden deeper in the shade of the awning, they can actually see the way his fucking horns are sparking at them, little bursts of psionic aura pulsing from the bottom all the way to the top. His eyes are trying to do it, and it's fucking unpleasant to look at, the way the colour tries and fails to pulse around the remaining lense.

"What the fuck did you drink," they demand, incredulous. "Straight honey?"
Edited 2014-11-30 22:07 (UTC)
activatingaggro: (STFU)

[personal profile] activatingaggro 2014-11-30 10:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Eventually, she'd let the call drop.

There'd been a purpose behind that: she figured she'd hang up, and then call back, until Pheres remembered to get his goddamn phone. What she hadn't anticipated was the fact he left his phone on silent, the better to ignore any unwanted calls, and it was only the second time she hit his voice-mail that it struck her.

("Hello! This is Pheres Dysseu speaking, book repairer and vendor of antiques -- if this is an emergency, please call my moirail, at...")

So she'd broken a few glasses, left a few nasty messages, and sat down to stew. He'd remember to his phone eventually, and call back, shamefaced and apologetic. She'd been expecting thirty, forty minutes: she was pleasantly surprised when he called back in less than ten.

She could've done without the frantic tone, though.

"Whoa, babe," she says, alarmed. Her voice comes back tinny. Did he put her on fucking speaker? "Calm the fuck down, okay? Shit. Okay. Um. Sparking."

"Someone slipped you a honey pill. It's not fucking contagious, so if OA's giving you shit, tell them to cram it up their nook." Wait, fuck: she can hear her own goddamned voice, and it strikes her, too late, she's probably on speaker.

Strike that. Of course he'd put her on fucking speaker. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
obstructedantiquity: (capricious)

[personal profile] obstructedantiquity 2014-11-30 10:43 pm (UTC)(link)
Every time Pheres gets agitated, the sparks increase exponentially, little rivulets of energy crackling across his horns. Now that they're not in the danger zone, OA has to admit: it's kind of cool to watch.

Especially when he jabs a button on his shitty little device and Sipara's rough-ass voice comes pouring out. For a moirail, she's doing a real shit job of calming him down: the way he sparks when she mentions nooks sends them shooting far enough to zap OA.

They shift out of the way just in time, and watch as it hits the ground and dissipates.

"Whoa, Nzinga," they say, amused, "keep it in your fucking pants. Your moirail's present." They waggle their eyebrows at him, but he doesn't seem game for the joke: he averts his eyes without even a flash of teeth. "So baby boy here's been huffing honey. Alright. Schoolfeed me: is this shit gonna wear off?"
activatingaggro: (angry)

[personal profile] activatingaggro 2014-11-30 11:08 pm (UTC)(link)
Goddamnit, are they trying to flirt with her?

It's hard to tell which outrages her more: that, or the way they're calling Pheres baby boy, like he's theirs. (PC once said that OA could incite her by reading a grocery list. That's a bit far, but - it's not exactly untrue.)

(They are the fucking worst.)

"An hour," she says, keeping her voice pointedly flat. OA will jump on any fucking thing they can, so she just won't give them anything. "Maybe two? If you'd just stop being a -"

No, no, now she needs to shut the fuck up. It strikes her that Pheres is quiet as the dead in the background, and she knows how fucked up OA is: she doesn't want that little thought to become literal, because OA decides a dead moirail is the best pitch solicitation. "If he's calm, he should stop sparking," she says instead. "As much. Shit isn't gonna stop completely for awhile."
Edited 2014-11-30 23:08 (UTC)
obstructedantiquity: (displeased)

[personal profile] obstructedantiquity 2014-11-30 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Baiting Sipara is like playing Catch the Faithless at Carnival: it's easy as fuck, and no matter what line they put out, they always get results.

Except for now, apparently. She's not biting, and they don't know why. Girl ain't exactly the calmest motherfucker around: usually, that sort of a comment would get them locking horns for awhile, but right now, she's acting like she just doesn't even give a shit.

It's irritating as fuck. The fact they're wasting their time talking to a shitblood like Sipara, with her worthless blood and her worthless face, is something she should be grateful for. But whatever. They aren't going to jump for her fucking attention.

"Then I suggest you fucking calm him," they say, dismissing her, and they turn away from the phone. Pheres is scrubbing at his eyes for some fucking reason, but right now, they don't care. "'cause right now, he's a flashing bullseye for every finface with an engine kink, and yeah, not going to fucking deal with that."

If they're going to haul him back hive, then he'll need a cloak: he's small enough he could just tuck under theirs, and that had been their original plan, but that seems like a great way to get fried. They'll just grab some shit from inside, instead.

They start to step inside, and then look back. He's moved his hands away from his face, and -- the white eyes, staring psionic bright from the dusky skin, are creepy as fuck. Maybe they'll grab him some glasses, too.
Edited 2014-11-30 23:35 (UTC)
activatingaggro: (lecturing)

[personal profile] activatingaggro 2014-11-30 11:39 pm (UTC)(link)
There's a creak that she doesn't recognise, but the sound of a door slamming shut is obvious enough. Sipara waits a moment, holding her breath, but it seems like OA headed inside.

They're still at the fucking hivestem? Well. At least that'll give Marduk some time to arrive, and then maybe OA will just go and fuck off.

Pheres is quiet, and although his has a camera, hers doesn't even allow pictures. It's still the same piece of shit she was assigned by the Empire, eight sweeps ago, and spending caegars on it always seemed wasteful as fuck - but yeah, now she's kind of regretting it. What the fuck is he doing?

"Pheres," she says carefully. "You cool?"

activatingaggro: (joking)

[personal profile] activatingaggro 2014-12-01 12:03 am (UTC)(link)
"Fuck that and fuck you, dude," she snaps. "That's a terrible idea. Sit your ass dow- no, wait, don't do that, just. Lean against the wall or something."

And then she flounders, because - she fucking sucks at pacifying. She's better than she used to be, at least: how many sweeps has it been since she marked up his face in one of her snitfits? But as far as bars go, 'no longer a risk of physical maiming' is a pretty low, shitty one for diamonds.

But she can't succeed if she doesn't try, and he does need to cool it with the lightshow. Sparky psionics are the ones that end up in kids bootlegged ships, or dead because some dumb finface thinks eating a psionic brain will get them powers.

"Midbloods parties suck, anyway." She leans forward on the nutrition mesa, raps her claws against the edges. "They're always so fucking cold. Iunno why you're constantly shilling for them, anyway."

"You're the one that told me -" How did he phrase it? Oh, right. Their pitches aren't too different, when it comes down to it, but she exaggerates her words, stretches the vowels until it matches his fakey-fake highblood cadence. "Midbloods are acceptable, not good. And most of them are barely that. Why, and heavens strike me if I am wrong, once I saw a teal wearing surplus goods--"
Edited 2014-12-01 00:04 (UTC)
activatingaggro: (bother bother bother)

[sipara is officially That Asshole]

[personal profile] activatingaggro 2014-12-01 12:20 am (UTC)(link)
"Don't you poor Boopis me," she retorts. He sounds calmer. Good! "And I'm not fooling around with her. Rude. I already dumped her once, remember?"

She glances around, but - of course, her manager's in her own hive tonight. Good. Talking shit about poor Boopis is always hilarious, but the snitfits are distinctly not. "Which, like, don't get off topic. I guess it's better that you're chasing greenbloods for your fun instead of like, teals."

She snorts. "Don't fuck teals," she advises. "Might as well go fuck a pail. It's probs warmer."
activatingaggro: (bother bother bother)

[personal profile] activatingaggro 2014-12-01 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, no, she broke him.

"Come on, dude," she laughs, because fuck it, it's almost two in the fucking evening and she is exhausted, "calm the fuck down! It's not like I said don't fuck indigoes, it'll give you frostbite - even though it will, actually, write that down, I'm not fucking joking --"
obstructedantiquity: (entertained)

[personal profile] obstructedantiquity 2014-12-01 12:59 am (UTC)(link)
The hivestem's lobby is dank as fuck, sweltering with the heat and pheromones from too many trolls packed into too small of a space. There's almost no light at all, save for what's streaming in from the parted curtains, but most of the bodies are flushed green as fuck.

No wonder someone slipped him a honeypill. Fucker was probably the only rust on the scene: it could've been intentional, or else it could've been some kid, a little too eager to spread the mirth to think about checking caste before hand.

No one pays them much mind as they stalk through. There's a few glances, but they're probably not the first fucker to trespass today: these sorts of events are rife with trolls being retrieved by their moirails, and the residents must figure they're here to retrieve theirs. Whatever, let the swillbloods think what they fucking want.

There's a pair of moirails dozing in the cloak closet. OA steps past them, snatches the first cloak that looks around the right size, grabs the shades off of one's face, and absconds before they can do more than drowsily complain.

There's a half-drank bottle of alcohol by the door. They contemplate it, and then snatch it, too. It smells like it's sopor-based. If Pheres is still sparking, then they'll just make him drink it: that'll fix it, one way or another.

But apparently, that's unnecessary, because when they step outside, the sound that greets them is hysterical laughter. Pheres is propped against the wall by the door, arm over his face, laughing so hard that they half-expect ruddy tears.

But he's not sparking. So that's something.

They snatch the phone - it's not hard, when his grip is already loose enough that it looks ready to drop - and then they dump the cloak on his head.

"Good job, nookmunch," they say. Pheres is spluttering behind them, and on the other end of the line, Sipara sounds like she's doing the same. "Kid is sparky no more, so hell, maybe I won't ditch him."

There's a sharp intake of breath, and then she's actually growling over the phone, rattlereeds going so fast they think she might break something. "Later," they say brightly, just as it sounds like she's about to say something, and they end the call.

For good measure, they turn off the phone, too, and cram it into the pocket of their suncloak.
obstructedantiquity: (displeased)

[personal profile] obstructedantiquity 2014-12-01 01:19 am (UTC)(link)
"Mm."

It's not much of a response, but they don't have much to say. They get to waste their day guiding some rustie home, and it's not like they've got anything to talk about. He doesn't go to Carnival, and they don't give a shit about books or history, which is apparently what he and Liyiji talk about.

They could grill him about his moirail, but fuck that noise. The thought has merit, though, and that reminds him there is something they need to ask.

"Where the fuck are you staying at?"
obstructedantiquity: (sneer)

[personal profile] obstructedantiquity 2014-12-01 01:34 am (UTC)(link)
Hello, there's a tiny-ass rust attached to their arm. They slow, looking down, and he's grinning up at them, looking apologetic as fuck.

Whatever. It's not like they're going to complain about arm candy, even if it is too hot for this shit. Even through the oiled fabric of their cloak, the sun is making sweat bead, and they just want to get the fuck hive.

They listen with increasing incredulity as he talks. He lives in his cart. And --

"You lost your cart," they repeat. "You lost your cart, and you get drunk at fucking sunlight parties, and -- how the fuck aren't you dead?"

It's a rhetorical question. They don't have time for this bullshit, and they're ready to go the fuck to bed. "Whatever, you're just staying in my hive. Come on."
forgottensebayt: (uncertain)

[personal profile] forgottensebayt 2014-12-01 01:41 am (UTC)(link)
Sunlight has never felt so good.

Hinnom scrambles up the ladder first, and then loiters by it, shouting down encouragements. The climb up the ladder is difficult - legislacerator training is a lot of things, but physically taxing is not one of them - but it's worth it, when she crests the last rung, and emerges, huffing and puffing, to the light warm on her face.

Her eyes adjust quickly, and it's marvellous to actually be able to see again. "Oh," she says, pleased, "I know where we are! I can lead from here - we're only a block away, now -"

There's no objection, so she takes off walking. It's hot, but right now, fresh from the chill of the underground, the heat is a refreshing change.
postalprestidigitation: (bluh)

[personal profile] postalprestidigitation 2014-12-01 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, god, it is so fucking hot.

"You should make this quick," Castor says from behind zim. Ghosts aren't affected by the sunlight: they're just psychic imprints! There's no ganderbulbs to be bothered by the changing light, and so he's trailing Marduk, and ze's following him, eyes unfocused just enough to for his outline to solidify.

Ze ignores him. Marduk gets weirded out whenever ze starts talking to ghosts, and it's not like he cares. Castor died long before ze was even in the slurry, and sometimes ze thinks he's not really talking to zim: he's just talking to be talking.

But sometimes he says things worth paying attention to.

"There's two people up ahead," he reports a few moments later. "A lowblood.. and a highblood?"

That's weird. It's way past noon: almost no one's awake at this time of day. "Hey, Mardie," ze chirps, darting forward until ze's walking in step. "I think we seen your boo."
forgottensebayt: (BLUH BLUH BLUH)

[personal profile] forgottensebayt 2014-12-01 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
"Oh?" She can't see anything off in the distance, and she tilts her head to the side. But Hinnom isn't joking.

A few seconds later, the two forms come into view.

"How did you know?" she asks, surprised. They're both swaddled in suncloaks, and, yes, the one is highblood huge. For a moment, she's hesitant: maybe it's not the right troll? Sipara hadn't mentioned he'd be with a friend. But then the light catches the smaller one's horns, and the caps flash white in the daylight.

The academy is full of highbloods: there isn't a single teacher in her hall that is lower than teal, and even after two sweeps, talking to them makes her feel like she's swallowing nails. But Sipara asked her, and she said yes, so she squares her shoulders and steps forward.

"Greetings," she calls out. If she pretends this is one of her mock trials, then maybe her voice won't shake. "My name is Marduk Lector, of the Imperial Legislacerator, division eight under Proctor Sungazer."

"I was sent to collect Pheres Dysseu?"

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=> THREAD SHIFT

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