fleetlogs | => PHERES: Abscond.

=> PHERES: Abscond.

=> PHERES: Abscond.

=> FLEETBOUND POST. [refiningSpacetime - FIN]
=> MARDUK: Call your guide. [FIN]
=> RICCIN: Retrieve the damsel in distress. [FIN]
=> HINNOM: Lead him home. [FIN]
=> FLEETBOUND POST. [activatingAggro- FIN]
=> SIPARA: Fetch your dumb moirail. [FIN]
=> PHERES: Wake up. [FIN]

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

Threaded | Flat

If it was anyone else, OA would leave them. It's too late in the day to be awake, and the punchline to this sort of self-made disaster tends to be hilarious as fuck: the way that kids always come in carnival limping after a day of festivities, their burnt black faces and peeling horns a testament to their own stupidity, is one of the highlights of service.

But it's Pheres, and the way that Sipara's going to get her bulge in a knot over the idea of a Mirthful saving her moirail is a chance too delicious to pass by. OA can practically taste the outrage on their tongue: it's going to be wicked, and the warm, vindictive satisfaction of that thought is what finally gets them out the door.

The heat of the day hangs heavy on their shoulders as they make their way to Pheres's destination, but the sunlight can't permeate the oiled cotton of the suncloak. The huskphone rattles off directions through the earphones in their auralsponge as they walk, the programmed rasp of Liyiji's voice reading off each step with his familiar flavor of contempt: cross the street. Follow the block on straight. Go left.

There's not many trolls out: a few uncovered greenbloods, their skin damp with perspiration, some bluebloods huddled under a shared suncloak, a rust ducked awkwardly into the shadow of their lusus, their skin already reddening in the light. The city is quiet, all reasonable trolls locked away tight in their hives, and this walk - meant to be a quick jaunt, no more than twenty or thirty minutes - feels like it's taking forever.

They're just considering turning around and going home, PC's ensuing snitfit be damned, when the green spire of the communal hivestem comes into view.

It's not as shitty as they had expected. The surface of the hive is by no means new, but it's durable, the skin of the fleshwalls mottled and light in places where the chrysalis has been renewed. All the ports have their glass, tinted midblood dark, and the front stoop actually has an awning. It's nothing compared to their hiveblock, but it's very thoroughly midblood.

Not exactly the slum they'd been expecting. The walls aren't even lathered in olive paint: it's all jade and teal, the upper crust of midbloods that can almost be considered acceptable.

There's a muddy shape on the front stoop, a long splash of languid monochrome against the hive's green stonework. It's hard to tell at first if it's a troll or trash - but then the sun shifts and the lump shifts with it, a careful sprawl that keeps them under the awning's shifting shade, and there's no mistaking the curly yellow horns.

The right thing to do would be to yell out, make sure he knows they've arrived. But exactly how wasted he is remains a question, so OA walks up instead, steps light on the ground. All of his attention is on his huskphone, his voice a low murmur of words, and OA lets their shadow settle above them, and waits to see when they'll notice.

Edited 2014-11-30 16:14 (UTC)

FS: 1. [POLITE] hello, pp.
FS: 2. [INQUIRING] are you perhaps still awake?

FS: 1. [REGRETFUL] if you are not, of course, that is entirely acceptable, and of course the expected response: when speaking in regards to acceptability, being awake at this hour is somewhat abnormal.

PP: ( - Yo + wHaSsUp bOo - )
PP: ( - nO NeEd tO ApOlTeRgHeIsT + YoU KnOw mE GiRl + oNlY GeT ShUtEyE WhEn i'm dEaD-EyEd - 0*v*0 - )
PP: ( - hOoHoOhOo - )

FS: 1. [RELIEVED AMUSEMENT] ha ha ha.
FS: 2. [EVIDENT RELIEF] i didn't wish to wake you, but i am glad you are awake.
FS: 3. [CURIOUSITY] are you perhaps out on one of your delivery routes?

PP: ( - YaH + JuSt gHoUlInG AbOuT On mY RoUtE + LeTtInG ThE SpOoKs dO ThEiR ThAnG + WhY - )
PP: ( - YoU WaNnA HaNg? -)
PP: (- cOs i fOuNd sOmE RoPe iN ThE TrAsH-HeAp oThEr dAy + hOoHoOhOo! - )
PP: ( - 0*v*0 - )

FS: 1. [WRY AMUSEMENT] you are a very funny grub. whomever would think to intermix the literal and colloquial definitions of two similar words in such a way, but you?
FS: 2. [INFORMATIVE] i do wish to "hang", as you put it, using of course the colloquial definition, and not the literal.
FS: 3. [INFORMATIVE] aa has asked me to do her a favor. have you checked fleetbound as of late?

PP: ( - YaH + I SeEn tHe fRaIl + bOy iS CrUnK As fUcK - )
PP: ( - GoNnA GeT ShAnKeD - )
PP: ( - bUt i bEt hE'Ll lEaVe a rEaL SwEeT GhOsT BeHiNd! + SpArKpLuGs aLwAyS Do + 0*v*0 - )

FS: 1. [HESITANT] ...
FS: 2. [INFORMATIVE] i'm afraid that the purpose of aa's favor is to, in fact, ensure that he does not get shanked, or killed, or otherwise end up as a ghost for your collection.

PP: ( - UgH + ArE YoU SeRiOuS - )
PP: ( - GiRl iS A DrAg + sHe's aLwAyS CaStInG ShAdE On mY FuN + 0*n*0 - )

FS: 4. [SINCERE] my apologies.

FS: 1. [HESITANT] but to digress, i was wondering if you would like to accompany me.
FS: 2. [HESITANT] since you are already awake at this hour and venturing around the city, i thought perhaps it could be a fun engagement, and the presence of two trolls would make us both slightly less likely to engage negative attention of which we are unprepared to handle.

PP: ( - HmMm + bOo i gOt wOrK - )

FS: 1. [APOLOGETIC] i know. i was hoping that perhaps you could delay some of your activities, but now i see that this was an unkind and indeed unfeasible thing to proposition, given the importance of your work.

PP: ( - IdGaF + LeTs dO It - )

FS: 2. [APOLOGETIC] your help is, of course, entirely unncecessary, and i was largely asking out of the selfish desire for company during this jaunt: as a jadeblood wearing imperial colours, the likelihood of gaining negative attention is statistically marginal to the point that any actual confrontation would fall entirely out of the norm.

FS: 3. [APOLOGETIC] and third of all--

PP: ( - HeY - )
PP: ( - HeY - )
PP: ( - HeY - )
PP: ( - )-(EY - )

FS: 1. [APOLOGETIC] ???

PP: ( - BoO + LeTs dO ThIs sHiT - )

Edited 2014-11-30 13:43 (UTC)

Smell comes back before zir vision does. The air is warm and humid, with the familiar stench of waste water and sewage permeating the air, strong enough that Hinnom can taste it in the back of their throat. Usually, it's not too bad: there's time to adjust, from the fresh air outside to the cramped, stagnant air of the sewers.

Not today. And worse yet is the smell of bile. The smell is so bad, it makes zim want to heave.

It sounds like Pheres is already in the process.

There's spots in zir vision, but ze's used to the transition of light and dark: already Hinnom's vision is clearing, and ze can make out Pheres's outline in front of zim. He's hunched over, wheezing, and - oh, gross, he's the cause of the smell.

He's puking all over the ground, and his nice, white shoes.

"BLUH," Hinnom says, scampering back.

-> 11:00PM, SATURDAY
Pheres is drunk and gets on Fleetbound. [POST 1]

-> 2:00PM, SATURDAY
Riccin comes to retrieve Pheres.

-> 3:00PM, SATURDAY
Riccin and Pheres leave the hivestem and are intercepted by Hinnom and Marduk. They argue for ~20 minutes before agreeing to go as a group, and Hinnom and Pheres abscond the scene by 3:30PM.

->3:40PM, SATURDAY
Hinnom and Pheres end up in the sewers, and Hinnom and Castor haul him back to their hive, where both of them promptly go to sleep.

->5:00PM, SATURDAY
Sipara starts the six hour drive back to Capitol City.

->12:00AM, SUNDAY
Sipara arrives in Capitol City, and after tracking down Pheres's mobile hive and finding it unoccupied, posts on FB.

->1:00AM, SUNDAY
Sipara and Marduk head into the sewers to travel to Hinnom's house. [THREAD]

->1:00AM, SUNDAY
After nine hours of sleep, Pheres wakes up in Hinnom's hive, the pill out of his system and completely confused as to wtf happened.

->2:00AM, SUNDAY
The two threads intersect! Sipara and Marduk finally come across Hinnom's hive, sleep-deprived and harried by the zombies. THIS HELLISHLY LONG POST FINALLY WRAPS UP. \o/

Edited 2014-12-08 15:53 (UTC)

Whoa, wait, fuck, that sounds weird. REPHRASE.

=> SIPARA: Find your stupid moirail.
That's more like it.

Edited 2014-12-07 01:49 (UTC)

It's the slime tickling at your nose that finally does it.

You always sleep dry. It's easier to just take a sopor pill and slip onto your couch for the day than face the hassle of getting inside your old, outdated recuperacoon. It's smarter, too! When you sleep in a 'coon, you have to wash the sopor off your skin afterwards, and when you're in a van, sometimes miles from the nearest source of water and with only a ten gallon tank to your name..

Well. Peeling sopor skim off of your skin takes entirely too much time, dry.

The only time you use your recuperacoon is when you're ill, and right now, you feel perfectly fine. Maybe your mouth is a little dry from too much sopor, but your pan is clear, and you feel like you've had an entire days worth of sleep.

The only other time is when you're in someone else's 'coon, and the only time that happens is when --

You weren't that drunk, yesterday. Were you?

You're relieved to find you're alone in the recuperacoon when you open your eyes, but the room around you is dim and unfamiliar. Everything is stone: the short ceiling above you, only ten or eight feet, the walls around you, and when you lean forward and peek - yes, even the floors underneath. Worse yet, it's all damp, the light of your eyes catching on the shiny streaks of what you hope is water residue on every surface.

When you move to climb out, you relaise you're damp, and sticky. Whoever dumped you into the recuperacoon didn't strip you, and the temporary relief that inspires is overset by the surge of disgust as you try to move, and the clothing clings like a shroud to your skin in response.

Your shirt is green. Your pants are green, and not even a good shade: it's the same neon green as the sopor, just diluted. There's guides online for removing food, and dirt, and blood from fabric, but you've never seen one on removing sopor. How are you even going to get that out?

Still, you remind yourself, peeling carefully out of the cocoon, it's better than the alternative. There's only been one or two times that you've overestimated your metabolism, and drank enough that even your psionics couldn't compensate. Waking up in some strangers hive, undressed and sore and with no idea where you were - you haven't done that since you were seven, but you still remember how terrifyingly unpleasant the entire experience was.

You're in a strange hive, certainly, but you're dressed, and you feel fine. When you take a careful step, stretching out your legs, there's no worrisome aches or pains, and the tension in your thoracic cage unwinds. Maybe you did over-drink, but there's obviously nothing sinister going on here: you just made a new friend. Probably.

Right?

Edited 2014-12-07 12:29 (UTC)

Threaded | Flat

no subject

—forgottenSebayt [FS] began trolling postalPrestidigitation [MP]-

=> HINNOM: Lead him home.

=> OOC TIMELINE REFERENCE

=> SIPARA: PICK UP THE KID.

=> PHERES: Wake up.