dumbshow | [ke$ha woah-ing]

Entry tags:

actual rp

[ke$ha woah-ing]

fuckin jamjar meme
it's not really a meme, this is for psl prompts...
obviously if you have your own prompt pls use it

I

✿1. Horror: Your characters are taken from their own worlds and thrown into a terrifying situation! Things are creepy, resources are scarce, and ensuring your own survival is paramount.
✿2. Sex Game: For whatever contrived and nonsensical reason, your characters are forced into a world where they gotta bone. Aside from smutstuff, you have the opportunity to play out how very awkward it is to navigate these agreements and encounters before and after. Lasting bonds can form from something you didn't expect! But so can eternal regret.
✿3. Slice of Life: Characters are forced to live together in familial units. They have an opportunity here -- in spite of being stuck -- to relax and slow down and do some fun, ordinary things. Picnics, dates, school, etc.
✿4. Fantasy: Characters are forced into guilds and roles, given weapons and are made to utilize their powers in coordinated units to complete missions.
✿5. Scifi: Characters are thrust on to the frontier of spacial colonization! Characters on a spaceship! Characters being drafted into an Imperial Earth Army to fight/conquer foreign entities! Characters being in a world where they are assessed, identified, tracked and policed by artificial intelligence! And so on!
✿6. Reincarnation/ New Identity: Your character has been reborn at this game, or given a new identity. Work out their karma or help them come to terms with having to live a new life.
✿7. Asylum/Prison/Institutionalized Identity: Characters are locked up and put under heavy surveillance. Slowly they are institutionalized and disintegrated from ordinary social rules of engagement. They could be told that they've been identified as mentally dysfunctional, or they could be in prison! Are they pleading their innocence, or do they know they're guilty as fuck back in their world?
✿8. Assignment-Based/Mercenary/Survival: Characters have to put their skills to good use as drafted mercenaries. Help your captors assassinate, spy, sabotage, infiltrate, steal, and terrorize for points that will lead up to your freedom or the freedom of others.
✿9. Your Choice!: Do whatever!
---
II
✿1. First Impressions: You never forget your first impression of someone. Unless it was entirely forgettable.
✿2. Oh Hey Again: I kind of know you!!!! Hi!!! I hate this place but love familiarity hi!!!
✿3. Event: SOMETHING IS HAPPENING and your characters have either run into each other or sought each other out to stick together during it!
✿4. Living Quarters: Surprise, your characters are in the same house! Or room! Or building! Either way you have to share space and facilities with this person. Enjoy!
✿5. Mystery: Who Did It? Why Are We Here? Characters are disappearing, people are dying, whatever is happening it is FISHY!
✿6. Canon Update/Respawn/"But we know each other, I swear!": One character comes (back) to a game and does not remember previous CR. A relationship or friend or even hateship is forgotten. How will this be dealt with?
✿7. Begrudgingly Working Together: You are so fucking annoying but I guess we have to fight Monster of the Day Together/Get Unstuck-UnLost Together/Find Our Way Back/Help Each Other Out.
✿8. Is This a Date: Gee, you guys sure are doing a lot of things that people on dates do and you're having a lot of fun [sweats]...
✿9. Violence: Characters beat the shit out of each other or help each other out of a gory situation with terrible traumatic injuries or something!
✿10. One-Sided(?) Crush: How do you get their attention? Or, alternatively, how do you ignore that this person obviously is crushing on you and it's totally awkward
✿11. Protecting/Saving: Your character's chance to be a hero or a damsel!
✿12. Network Post: Mandatory bs.
✿13. Inbox: Hey, can I talk to you for a second? In private?
✿14. Your Choice!: Do whatever!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Where is this? Apparently some Holly Heights level place, it's cute and peaceful, flowers everywhere, etcetc. Because of Jamjar Rules, Amira is miraculously not dead right now!!

But who cares about that, she doesn't, because she has way bigger priorities right now. Namely, she sees Favaro a few feet ahead, and that's enough to give her a running start. The picnic basket she was carrying may go flying at this point, but she's going to give him the most enthusastic full body~~slam~~ hug she can muster anyway.]

Fava!

[Jamjar Rules are great- they've given Favaro the gift of having all his legs attached, and everything, because why not. He's more than a little put off by the cute and peaceful nature of this place being so aggressively cheery after certain recent events, which is why he's just skulking around glowering at butterflies.

Until he's bodyslammed, anyway, at which point he staggers forward a few extra steps, and-]

Amira? [whAT] But- you- How'd you get out of the giant monster dragon?

[this seems important, is he the only one who cares?? he feels like it already]

[Just be glad they didn't end up in Haven or something, Favaro. This is way simpler, even if nothing else about this really is. There's even a brief moment of silence as she actually considers that question, before she just shrugs.]

I don't know!

[And she stands up a little taller, loosening her hold enough for him to not fall over under her weight.]

But I'm here now, so it's fine.

[Haven might have been a little familiar, you know, after the almost apocalypse. Favaro stares at her with a mix of surprise and actual seriousness that drops into exasperated the moment he processes her reply.]

That's not— [fuck it, yeah it is. that's how it works now.] Alright, alright.

[He rolls his shoulders a little before putting his hands on hers and detaching himself from this hug-cling thing. She is here. Not in a dragon. That's objectively great, but he can't help a pang of disappointment that he couldn't actually do anything for it himself...

But forget about that, he's over it!!]

Let me guess: You don't know where "here" is.

[She detaches easily enough, though she doesn't move very far away. She gives him a sheepish smile and shakes her head at the question, though. If he's asking where to find it on a map or where it is in relation to places they've been, he's going to be disappointed, of course.]

Sorry.

[Don't sulk, Favaro!! She has some good news, so hopefully he'll stop making that face.]

But it's called "Stepford"! The man who gave me the basket told me that.

[He was a very nice man who explained very little, but hey, he had food. That's what really matters in life.]

Edited 2015-01-02 04:58 (UTC)

[Can she actually read a map... But he's not sulking!! He's so not. He's just looking a little more than disappointed that they are apparently completely lost, and only some man he's never actually seen knows where they are.]

Stepford? Never heard of it! [He turns away slightly to rub his neck; god, they are beyond lost... And where the hell are Kaisar and Rita?] Well, this isn't exactly the reunion I had in mind...

[A beat; hang on. He wasn't watching her run at him before, so-]

What basket?

[No, she can't. That's why she had a magic GPS and then Favaro to point her the right way. And Amira is five years old, she is like an expert on sulking, and he has that look on his face. There's no denying it!!]

The picnic basket. That one!

[She gives him a flat look, because how could he miss the food right in front of him? Then, she points off to the side, where a (somehow intact) picnic basket sits in the grass.]

He said there was enough in it for both of us.

[She even waited to dive into it when she heard Favaro was here, so she's been relatively good so far. Self-control is a hard lesson, after all.]

[He's not sulking!! He doesn't sulk because he's, like, the grownup here. Until Rita shows up, he is the certified grownup, so he makes the rules.

He does give Amira a flat look right back, though, because he doesn't zero in on any food in a 5-mile radius like she does. But he follows her pointing, and- oh, there is a picnic basket... sitting on the ground.]

Oh, look at that. You did get a basket! [Ah, is he using that And-let-me-highlight-where-you-went-wrong tone? Maybe.] And you left it over there where anybody can get it!

[He pops his hands on her shoulders again, this time to spin her around so they can go pick up this food and not starve.]

Come on, let's go get it... Did he mention any booze?

[She lets herself be pushed, because they're going after what she wanted anyway. There's no point fighting it and taking longer.]

Nobody's going to take it.

[Nobody, because she will fight them off like a wild animal if they try, so don't test her, random NPCs. But she perks up at the idea of booze, so good job distracting her, Big Bro.]

Maybe there's a bottle in there. It was kind of heavy for just a food basket!

[It was probably wine, but Amira honestly doesn't know enough about liquor to tell the difference. All she knows is that it tastes good, it makes you feel good, and she likes it. That's good enough.]

[He does his best... He also pauses, raising an eyebrow as he wonders if he should exercise some responsibility here and not let Amira drink, given she's - technically a child.

But he shrugs that thought off more or less immediately after it comes, because she'd definitely fight him for it— and they both deserve a drink, by now.]

If we're lucky, it'll be two. Just the right amount to spice up our picnic.

[There isn't a chance of him not flopping down in the grass to shove a hand blindly into this basket. He'll picnic on someone's lawn, whatever.]

[He's right, she totally would, and it's his fault she got onto it in the first place. He better share after being so irresponsible, despite not knowing he was being that at all.

But she's totally distracted now, and she flops down on the other side of the basket and stares at it with the usual "dog has zeroed in on your plate" look.]

A drink would be good...

[One bottle for each of them is not "a drink", Amira.]

Is there anything else tasty in there?

[Ah yes, the best way to make up for his missteps is to keep doing the same thing, but on purpose. That's dangerously close to how he actually goes through life, so, not thinking about that-

Anyway, he's focused on the alcohol, and as convenience would have it there is enough for both of them to have a "drink," so he takes a bottle for himself. Maybe this place isn't so bad after all...]

Eh— [He tilts the basket to look into it, grabs something that looks like a sandwich just so he doesn't starve, and nudges the rest toward Amira.] Looks delicious. Here, it's all yours.

[Smart man, that Favaro. Amira gives him a wide smile before she takes the entire basket without even a proper "thank you" and starts to inhale it.

Once she's partway through, though, she takes a glance at the bottle left for her and then back to him. She grabs it and uncorks it with her teeth (because it's faster), pausing to ask him a question before she takes a swig.]

Fava. You're okay, aren't you?

[Very Specific Questions with our pal, Amira.]

[Maybe he should teach her manners... but nah. Favaro has put his sandwich aside to get thoroughly acquainted with his own bottle and wait for Amira to finish eating and probably want to look for more food, but naturally her question makes him choke on a mouthful and sputter.

He coughs some wine into his elbow, it's all very stupid. Then after wiping his mouth on his sleeve a little more, he has the nerve to say:]

Me? Fine? Of course I'm fine, Amira! [He'll even reach over to clap a hand on her shoulder, SEE, SO totally fine.] Never-

[wheeze, fuck this wine] Never better.

[Manners are overrated, which is why Favaro can get away with coughing wine everywhere without anyone saying, "Ewwwww."

But that's still a big clue as to his real feelings, and they don't seem to match his words. So, of course, he gets to usual disbelieving look from Amira, because who the heck would believe an answer like that?]

You're lying.

[That wheezing is the sound of a guilty conscience!! Probably.]

[In his defense, it's Amira's fault. She can't just surprise him with Serious Questions. Or at least questions he's taking seriously.

Still, the usual accusation. Something about it bothers him now, like an itch he can't reach, although true to form the first thing out of his mouth is:]

I'm not lying! Look me in the eye and tell me I don't look perfectly fine.

[Give him, like, 10 seconds this time before he goofs.]

[That's fair. She did mean it seriously, after all, which is why his lying is even more terrible than usual. (Seriously, buddy, get a poker face.)

She wants a serious answer, so okay, she can hold out for a bit. She stares at him, and the seconds tick by. 9...10...11--Yeah, she doesn't have the patience for this. As soon as he cracks, she does, too, and it's slapping time.]

Liar.

[What a great routine they fell into that's mostly his own fault. He leans back abruptly with an indignant noise, raising a hand to nurse his face. After a moment he reconsiders and raises the wine bottle to press against his cheek instead; it's cooler, at least.]

Amira— [He starts, and then stops and looks Elsewhere with a sigh. Don't make him... talk about it.]

Look, forget about it, alright? It's not a problem anymore.

[Learn to lie better, and nobody will get slapped! Or he could be honest, but we have to have reasonable goals here.

She stares at him steadily for another few seconds, trying to figure out if he's actually telling the truth right now, but she wants to believe it enough that she can't tell for sure.]

So, that's a yes?

[Amira has learned nothing if not persistence from Favaro... Whether this is good or bad is still up in the air.]

[This time, he manages not to pull a goofy face. It's a miracle, or rather, he's actually capable of honesty if he doesn't stop to think about it.

But, er, uh-]

That's— Yeah? I guess it's a yes...

[beat; he leans forward and holds up his hand to speak behind it, even though no one else is around]

Yes to which part?

[They try so hard...

She explains slowly, like she's afraid both of them are going to get lost if they get off track again too quickly.]

You're okay, even if you're still a liar.

[Obviously. She gives him a little smile, though, because now it seems like she's the smart one, for once!! How the turn tables...]

Right?

[Ugh, this is embarrassing. Favaro falters, opens his mouth to object again, then sort of deflates all at once and looks down into his wine. He waves a hand dismissively, but he's definitely hiding a smile behind the bottle as he raises it again.]

Yeah, yeah. I'll take what I can get.

[God, look at this. Look at him. Where is his sandwich, he needs to shove half of it in his face and reassert how much he doesn't!! care about stuff!!]

Did you eat that whole basket already?

[Worst liar ever, and she can still tell, but she's satisfied enough for now. Besides, he's getting distracting again, and she falls in line with it, like it's an ingrained habit now.

At his question, she pulls the basket a bit closer to herself, defensively. Moment officially over.]

Why?

[Is she up for sharing?? She's not sure yet, but if she's not, he won't have easy access to it, so hah.]

[He will make a grand effort anyway! Meaning, he'll lean over and stick his hand out obviously to swipe at the basket, half-assed.]

Becaaaause, I can't help you find more food if you starve me out this quickly!

[He's dying. Really, look. Dying.]

[Favaro, you are not helping your point about lying here... She gives him a dirty look for that.]

You're not going to starve. You have food!

[She points to whatever's left of his sandwich, but she's distracted enough by his point about starving later that he can probably grab it from her, if he's fast.]

Edited 2015-01-21 23:55 (UTC)

[This lie is perfectly harmless! So- it's allowed. Logic.]

I'm a growing young man! [also a harmless lie] I need more food than a sandwich, Amira!

[This as he waves the remaining half-ish at her, a clever distraction to cover up his very subtle grab for the basket with his other hand.]

[ to start off with the age-old cliche: it's been some time since he's been to los angeles, and the city is still as stunning/a hot mess/traffic-locked/nostalgic/tacky as fuck (insert your own adjective here, they all probably apply) as he remembered it to be. the only part that isn't a direct cliche about this visit is that it quite literally has been 'some time' since he's stepped foot in chinatown and its weaving back alleys and paved pathways to sketchy and sketchier places still-- if you consider 'some time' anyway from a year to the upward limits of several centuries, of which hakon falls neatly onto the vague latter half of the spectrum. the streets have changed. this doesn't surprise him anymore than the fact that there are bigger and better things happening in the city than the coming of the railroads and the discovery of oil and the building of weapons that would eventually find themselves bombing of a good swath of europe. nowadays, the bombing tends to happen in the middle east and the weapons tend to be built off-shore -- the same old game, just with pieces in different places on the chessboard, and that's why hakon doesn't know much about peace.

it's also the reason why he's never found the petshop until now. in hindsight, if the shop exists, then there must be a place for in the world. but since the world is vast and petshops don't usually have much do with the bombing of oil-rich countries, he hadn't had a clue. but after stepping into los angeles, he could feel the familiar presence of the city calling out to him in a way that dirt and grime and hopes and wishes and dreams have always mingled. when he finally finds his way to what is perhaps the sketchiest shop in the sketchiest alleway in what is perhaps the sketchiest part of town (he's exaggerating, mostly, somewhat, fondly), he can only really look up at the sign and laugh to himself. ]

Figures.

[ without further ado, to the faint of scent of incense and the guady tinkling of bells, he enters the store. ]

[The day is an ordinary one, as days in this particular (shady) part of the city go. If there is anything off about it, none of it breaches the walls of the shop, and if any of it did it would be turned out on its aggravating heels as quickly as it came in. D has decided to run a tight ship for as long as he can without tiring of it; the rabble of the city is not welcome in the shop just yet.

He's pruning a fern presently in his little shop-fortress, frowning at it and studiously not thinking about his return to the same tucked-away alley in Los Angeles. He's made no commotion about it; people who stop by are not people who know him, for one reason or another, and he may be doing less business now given that he does not advertise or even put the sign up some days, but—whatever. This is his shady little shop, and he'll run it however he pleases.

Still, the sound of bells does get him to look up from what he's doing automatically, placing the pruning shears down and moving back out into the center of the front room, to play the part of the good shop owner.

He says,] Welcome, [and then, before he adds that rehearsed line reiterating just whose shop it is—

Ah. That's recognition crossing his features, then muted surprise. Well then.]

Goodness, where have you been?

[hi]

[ it's not to hakon's surprise that the count looks exactly the way he'd last seen him, with nary a change except for the fact that he looks like he actually belongs in the scenery now, as opposed to an elegant asian sculpture on a literal spaceship. the shop suits him, hakon feels. it's every bit as tucked away in a maze-like corner as d is.

in reply, he waggles his fingers and dons a wide grin, unceremoniously leaning against the door-frame because it's an artistic place to lean, and let's be real here it's not like he's in danger of blocking potential floods of customers. ]

Somewhere sunny, with a lot of sand. [ he wrinkles his nose. ] Do you still remember what the sun is? It's this big ol' thing, bright, impossible to miss if you leave the house at a decent hour?

[ do you even leave the house. ]

[The surprise ebbs out of D's face the longer Hakon is standing in his doorway - which may be why, goodness, just because he has no intention of doing any business today doesn't mean the doorway is an appropriate place to loiter. He has furniture.

Out of all the people he met while away, for lack of a better term, D almost doesn't expect it to be Hakon standing in front of him now. But then, if he's spent all this time on a beach somewhere and only now wanders into Chinatown... that, at least, is very like him. D doesn't grin, although one threatens to break across his face judging by the way the corner of his mouth twitches. Shh, don't be a little shit.]

Unfortunately, I am fresh out of decent hours to spare. [sometimes he leaves the house.] How lucky it is that this shop has its own windows.

[a beat. the door though!!] Come sit down.

[ let's be real here, if he wasn't such a little shit, they wouldn't have gotten around to talking, and then he wouldn't have ended up here, commandeering your door. his door now, by the way, he'll plant a flag and everything.

but d's reply is just about what he's expected, accompanied by the familiar twitch of the count's lips, which totally means that the guy is only not being a little shit back for the sake of appearances. snickering, and with a half-hearted salute, he pads into the petshop as though he were a long-time resident, finding place on a couch to sit down and lounge. ]

Alright, it's time. I know you've been waiting for this, and I, for one, am all ready to be wowed or mortified or some shit.

[ obviously you've been spending all this time just waiting to show off your favourite snobby teas to him. don't deny it. ]

[No, get away from that door, it's antique and doesn't deserve sassy rabbit getting all over it.

The punchline to this cosmic joke is of course that D is definitely going to show off a snobby tea. He's already drifted off to an ornate cabinet to peruse his selection of snobby teas when Hakon starts talking - and it's fairly obvious what he's talking about. Perhaps he is a little predictable...

Still,] Would you rather some cocoa? I happen to have the kind that comes twelve to a box in the supermarket.

[Why does he have cheap store brand cocoa? Maybe a cruel joke. Maybe leftovers from a thoughtless Christmas gift that is literal years old and he just still has sitting in the back of his pretentious tea cabinet. Who knows.

But no, Hakon's getting the snobbiest tea he can find. The cups are going to be overly fancy, too.]

[ uses it for poledancing now what, huh, what now?!

it's less of a cosmic joke and more of a cosmic inevitability, really. and hakon, for one, is more than happy to sit back and enjoy it. ]

Please, darling. You'd hurt yourself watching me drink it.

[ though he is slightly surprised that dee would have cheap store brand cocoa hanging around. certainly he wouldn't have bought it himself-- a gift from someone? or maybe he did buy it himself, in preparation for someone who didn't like tea. and since it wouldn't be an animal...

huh. ] Who are you waiting for?

[ with your twelve-pack of cheap cocoa. ]

[no??? spritzes with water bottle

D is busy with tea preparation and not giving Hakon meaningful looks about what a little shit he is, but the way he sighs over a teapot as he places it on what is definitely a stove, in his front room - to be fair, there are enough oddly placed curtains and movable folding dividers around to make this room seem like several - gets the job done.

Despite that, having a conversation with someone who isn't a customer or a puppy is a nice change of pace, and this is par for the course between the two of them. He would let Hakon drink the store brand, he earned it—]

Pardon? [what's that, is that some sort of accusation that he has feelings?? he studiously ignores it, rummaging in the cabinet again for the not-good-but-rather-nice-still china.]

Children do come to this shop, you know. They don't appreciate tea.

[believe him.]

[ wow rude tbh

the moving rooms remind hakon of japanese houses and their moving, sliding doors and paper-thin walls. it would honestly be odd to find such a delicate separation of living areas in a city as blatantly american as los angeles (no offense to american culture, but it's very... american). watching the count putt around without any real sense of guilt (hey, he'd do the same if the count came over to his humble abode. it's easier to find than the count's place, anyway, since it's situated on top of a mountain in switzerland and looks for all intents and purposes to be a backdrop from the game of thrones), it strikes hakon that this is another thing hasn't changed since their world-destruction days. ]

You and actual human children, Princess? [ EYEBROW. yeah he didn't believe you back when they were floating on a rock in the middle of outer space. what makes you think he'll believe you any more now. ]

[he earned it

No one is going to dispute, at least, that D's shop is as far from the city's incredibly typical American city life as it can be. Even in Chinatown it stands out, which is saying something. Perhaps that is why, as much as he tries to duck into a seedy back corner of the neighborhood and pull the wool over the eyes of anyone who might want to see him - or heaven forbid, talk/i> to him, he still has Hakon sitting on his couch.

Cross-purposes, maybe. He leaves the Tea Zone only to deposit a tray of little sugary cookies on the table in front of the couch, wherever it apparently came from... what does he have behind all these weird curtains? Everything.

And from here, he can give Hakon the full benefit of his sarcastic look.] Children love pets. Surely you've noticed once or twice.

Just once or twice good enough for you? [ that's a non-question, really, he's not sure why he's asking except to make a point. what magical curtains, however. he needs a set of those in his bedroom. he'll meet the count's sarcastic look with a bright grin of his own, equally sardonic.

cookies tho. he'll swipe one happily and crunch on it like an actual six-year-old. some things haven't changed here either. ] Honestly, since when?

[Those cookies are fancy and expensive, appreciate them. D quirks an eyebrow at him, falling into their stupid routine as easily as he's kind of sort of genuinely annoyed. It's hard to tell. The sass...]

Since when what, Hakon? [the cocoa?? hiding out in LA?? selling puppies to children???]

Since when have you been waiting with a full pack of cocoa?

[ he takes a cookie and balances it on his nose because that's kind of what he does when he's seated-- he fidgets, breathing is just a farce, really, what he actually needs is movement. he lets the cookie drop into his mouth thereafter with a thoughtful crunch. ] Actually, don't answer that. Not that you would-- but don't.

[Oh. That. Now he really does frown, sharply, and that guess is right: he's definitely not going to answer that. At least not with an answer that has any real substance to it, like the nonsense about the kids with puppies... He hasn't been— this isn't—

He doesn't know. Maybe he should throw away that box. (He won't.)]

Your conversational ability never ceases to amaze. Do try to keep the crumbs off my furniture.

[The teapot whistles on cue, and he spares one last Look before going back to deal with that.]

[ your Look is super ineffective, and hakon just grabs another cookie and chomps on it. it's not like he needs food. he just likes having something to do.

anyway, what he's seen here has confirmed his suspicions, really. it gives him a sense of weary sadness as he rolls another cookie between his fingers the way he would a small wheel. he's seen perhaps kinder suffering, if that's what he can call the hollowness, in the beings that he calls his kinsmen, but whatever the case, the ending to all their stories is inevitably to fade away with anger and no little regret, whether they'd admit it or not.

the count would've made a wonderful Aspect. the world likes people who can find suffering on their own accord with no real outside interference. he looks over to the curtain, hops to his feet, and, letting his feet guide him, walks off behind one towards where the pets are ostensibly kept. ]

[D is making tea, and for all intents and purposes he is doing it with as little thought as possible. The movements are automatic, and if he idly wonders about whether he should get more cookies he doesn't have to think about anything else. He is - tired of thinking. Tired of cocoa boxes and tired of this city, and yet, here he is.

He's just tired. Fortunately he stops himself from giving the tea an undeservedly dark look as he arranges another tray and brings it back out, and—

where the hell did his nosy guest go, goddamn it]

Hakon— [damn it?? The tray is set down hastily before he turns to go towards the back of the shop, where Hakon must have gone because there really isn't anywhere else to go. Until reaching the back of the shop itself, which - well. He should have left a trail of breadcrumbs, probably, if D wasn't immediately going to march after him.]

[ hakon is the worst guest 2k15, though this fact really shouldn't surprise anyone. i can probably fill the rest of this space with really try-hard prose about darkness and soliloquies and how the darkness of the blackout curtained hallway and the single, Shakespearean spotlight is meant for protagonists, not antagonists like hakon, even though he has more to love than most protagonists do-- but i probably won't because it's late and i can't take myself seriously anymore.

know this, hakon stops at a curtain that he didn't even know was there, and unveils it to reveal a bird cage the length of the wall. within sits a beautiful owl as black as the night, sitting in a fake tree.

his expression inexplicably softens. ]

So that's where you were.

[D follows at a few paces back, primarily to avoid inconveniencing the animals by making a scene just because he's annoyed. He can always drag Hakon out by the ear later, if he does anything particularly grating and tactless...

This particular area of the shop- this particular cage- doesn't strike him as surprising or anything especially meaningful with regards to Hakon. He can hazard a guess, but the fact remains that so many of the shop's residents come and go as they please (and he himself has been distracted) that his intimate knowledge of each creature's personal story is shallow, lately.

After a courtesy minute he foregoes snapping and sighs, weary.] You could have asked to see the back of the shop.

I could've. [ but he didn't, and neither sass nor explanation is forthcoming. 'serious' wouldn't have been the word to describe it, nor 'solemn' either, 'neutral' too heartless and 'calm' too serene. the brief beat that follows and the expression on hakon's face when he turns to look over at the count is best described as 'honest'.

the black owl is the reincarnation of a friend he'd thought he'd lost again this lifetime-- death. ] Could we take her out?

[ this is as much of an apology he'll offer for not asking for permission in the first place. ]

[D leaves it at that, mercifully. It could be the look on Hakon's face or it could be his own overwhelming fondness for every creature in his shop, touch and go as many of them are, that fizzles out his irritation simply enough. Taking her out is tantamount to showing off his wonderful pets, so-

(but not without a beat first, like he might say no)] Mm. Alright.

[He crosses to the cage smoothly and sets about opening its lock, which doesn't seem to require a key or indeed the appearance of a lock at all. But whatever he does with his strange plant hands, there is the definite clunk of a bolt lock sliding back somewhere, and the cage door swings open of its own volition.]

[ of course the count would be doing strange plant things. it'd be a strange day if they ever had a conversation where the count didn't do at least one strange plant thing. still, the soundless swing of the cage door is what catches and maintains hakon's attention, and so he too mercifully does not make a jab at any strange plant happenings and/or potentially inappropriate tentacle jokes and instead--

finds out rather violently that another creature had been waiting for the soundless swing of the cage as much as he had. in two seconds flat, the owl - for all intents and purposes happy to be perching with mysterious aplomb befitting of a bird that quite literally looks like someone carved a piece of the night sky out, stuck feathers on it and made it stand on one foot on a wooden block - catapults through the air and lands gracefully feet-first in hakon's face.

needless to say, the laugh and shout is soon followed by the sound of hakon meeting the floor unceremoniously and the satisfied ruffling of feathers as the owl decides it Did Well and is content to return to being mysterious and waif-like or whatever owls are supposed to do when they're not sassing people.

like raising its wings so that it can return to the count's shoulder, for example. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ke$ha woah-ing]

favabean

3/2, it's like it read my mind

incredible

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d

i pave my own shitty prompts

i still can't believe

it's time to believe. and guady really self

guadamole

no!!!

why NOT

:T let my bury my typos in shame

i simply cannot, i am compelled

laura pls

listen yun

denied

why didn't you tell me about my html.... i see we're even

c:

looks at the evidence of my rampant hypocrisy and weeps

wipes up your tears with rabbit fur

don't make it weird

but rabbits are cute and fluffy

that icon is cute and fluffy

iyaaa. d. don't look...!

stares deeply

rude tbh