the_last_resort | Blackmoon Celebration

[There is some enormous reptilian alien standing right in front of Narvin, blocking both his way and his view. He...or she, Narvin can't really tell, is oblivious to Narvin's desire to pass. Narvin tries to push around to the right, but the alien inconveniently shifts to the right at the exact same moment. Sighing in frustration, Narvin moves to the left, giving a bit of elbow to shove his way past. And finally he's past the behemoth and once more has a clear view of--

SPIDER!

He yelps and leaps backwards, slamming against the reptile alien. (Fortunately, the reptile is build like a brick wall and Narvin is build like a short and wiry humanoid, so the reptile alien merely snorts once in affront but doesn't so much as stagger at being accidentally body slammed by a startled Time Lord.)]

Never smelled anything like that before, but I'm sure there's something like it. People back home can get pretty creative when it comes to alcohol.

[If there's one thing not lacking after the apocalypse, it's alcohol and the people determined enough to make more.]

Someone I know back home makes moonshine with maize, mutfruit, yeast and a fission battery. It's, uh... well, it gets the job done, but you've gotta be pretty desperate to drink it.

[He glances up to catch Niko with fake spider legs in his ears and chuckles quietly, going back to his bottle. It's still not much of a laugh, but it's more than Boone usually offers.]

[Boone looks up at the voice, and nods once when he sees who it is.]

Hey.

[He glances back down at the toy, and shakes his head.]

Got it for Rex, figured the legs would get in the way when I threw it. ...Guess it is kinda satisfying, though.

[The turrets fire at another spider. They're making a nice furry black heap by the fence by now.]

[Lindir was not exactly the type to be in the middle of things, so he's actually inside, looking out a window at the celebration. Part of him wanted to join in, but another, larger part wanted to stay safely inside where it was more comfortable. Seeing as how he was not arranging the festivities, he supposed he had no need to be a part of it.]

[He feels like even a little laugh is a grand accomplishment with Boone, though he has no idea how exceptional it actually is. If he did know he'd probably smile more himself. Instead he offers his drink to share lazily, for him to try.] Usually a grain. Yeast. I do not know for sure what is in this one, but usually I drink vodka. Do you still have that?

Is truly terrible world if no vodka.

[Niko thinks he would waste away.]

[He takes the drink and tries it, then offers it back. Better than Cass' moonshine, at least.]

Yeah, we've got vodka. Prefer whiskey, though.

[He puts his cigarette back to his lips, looking out past the fence.]

Spiders are going pretty nuts out there. Think they just wanna see the parade?

Yeah.

A lotta delicacies are like that.

Are they traditional or do your people like 'em? [He scans the crowd with narrowed eyes, watching closely.]

They hear us. Us in general.

[He motions around before he settles cross-legged, elbows on his knees.] When we go in the caves they'll follow you in the dark. They're stupid. They don't know how to get through thin barriers. You can put up a tent and if it is zipped? They won't know how to get inside.

But they hear you and they stay there. They will be there until you're ready to come out. Like food is no issue for them. For you? They can go hungry forever. They just wait.

Is just another celebration for winning against an enemy. Even if it's a really stupid [but very dangerous] one. [Then he switches subjects.] Have you had really good whiskey? Stuff at blues place. Music club. It's not so bad.

They sure can climb, though. Kinda... weird to watch, if I'm honest. None of them have gotten close to the fence tonight, but I've been patrolling at night before and caught them halfway up. Watched until it got to the top, then I shot it down.

[He shakes his head, looking up at the nearest turret.]

No, never been there. Was planning on it, though. Maybe I should make a point of it though, if the whiskey's good.

I appreciate the no violence policy. Some nights I am just not in the mood for a bar fight.

[Even if most places make you leave, Dorian's had proven mellow enough that he isn't so much worried about violence there. He looks up at it as Boone does, leaning to do so, and then sits back again.]

They're creepy as shit, I do admit. But they die easy enough.

[And that's when a fowl walks in front of them, on the other side of the fence. It looks at them through it, spoots out an egg, and then wanders off. And that's the entirety of the encounter. A bird of dubious construction just looked at both of them and dropped an egg, an it leaves Niko staring blandly for a moment.]

You mean some nights you are?

[Boone has felt the urge to punch people in his darker moods, but he's never actually done it. For one thing he realises he'd probably get his ass kicked, and besides that his method of coping with things is usually to go off and mope on his own.

He watches the bird, blinks when it drops an egg, and watches it walk off.]

Oh.

[Well. Okay then, that was weird.]

[Niko briefly forgets the subject of barfights because he's watching that bird just amble away, and then he looks at the egg. And then he barks a quick laugh, just because it was oddly ridiculous. He doesn't want to test the spiders, but the turrets are there and he reaches through slats to grab the egg quickly and lean back.]

[He holds it up to Boone.]

You want an omelette?

Gonna be a small omelette.

[He shrugs, but he's smiling a little. The whole thing struck him as pretty ridiculous, too.]

Might as well do something with it, though. So, sure.

[Not like they're gonna sit on it to keep it warm or anything.]

Come on. You can bring your friend the whisky bottle, and finish dismembering the spider, and we'll make up for size of egg in cheese.

[Really Niko's not great at Omelette so it'll be more of a scramble, but no one would really complain about that. He's pleased to have gotten something, though. Better distraction than the fistfights he was mentioning.]

[He stands up and like Boone did for him, offers down his hand.]

[He finishes his cigarette and stubs it out on the side of his bottle, then lets Niko help him to his feet.]

You any good at cooking?

[He might as well figure out what he's potentially gotten himself into now. He's agreed to food before and it's been pretty awful. He usually ate it anyway, though. Only the most vile food got put to one side or furtively dumped behind a bush.]

I'm ex-military. I make food that you keep down and keeps you going. I know how not to burn it, at least. [Cheese, things that are not cheese but also are pretty good, egg. That is what makes an omelette. He takes ale and finishes it off so he can dump the bottle into recycling when he goes, though some part of him wants to save it for a molotov cocktail. he needs to get out of that way of thinking.]

At least it will not be on the streets, ah? For a little bit. I think I have had my fill for today.

I'm ex-military too, but I still burn my food.

[He shrugs.]

Still eat it, though. So I guess it doesn't matter.

[Boone wonders if he could manage to burn an omelette. He's never made one himself.]

The ones back home are made outta deathclaw eggs. They're about...

[He holds his bottle up and his hand, the space between them just about covering from his chest to his stomach.]

...that big. You can feed a couple people with one egg.

[Glancing over the throng of people crowding the streets, Wander spots Narvin and prepares to yell a greeting when Narvin is suddenly thrown backwards and hits another alien, visibly startled.

He jumps at the noise, but quickly composes himself with the concern for Narvin's well-being. Is he hurt? What happened? Without saying anything, he jumps down the box and rushes over to where he last saw the Time Lord, darting around people's feet as quickly as he can.]

You were military once, yes?

[Narvin has assumed, but never asked.]

They are traditional.

I would say the taste is not bad, but I'm currently feeling a bit ill that I ever ate one. [He's not feeling that bad, but Narvin is sometimes prone to exaggeration. And he is still feeling a bit odd now that he really considers the fact that dactyl eggs do, as Kay said, "come out of a flying lizard's ass."

And then he watches Kay watching.]

Do you see something amiss?

[Narvin's hearts are racing, but he consciously slows his panicked breath, trying to calm down. Now that the immediate fear is gone, logic takes over. No one in the crowd is screaming or running, so clearly it wasn't a real spider he saw, just one of those damnable holiday accouterments. He surveys the area, trying to spot the "spider" he saw to verify his conclusion, and murmurs curses under his breath in Gallifreyan, maligning spiders, holidays, and giant reptile aliens who get in the way.]

[He slides his eyes over to Narvin, slowly, and then back out to the crowd.] Saw someone I thought had nice formal wear for the time period. Pretty functional.

But if I had saw something dangerously amiss, by duty and obligation I would not have informed you, but I would have done something about it. [He very slightly tips his cup to the crowd.] That said, seems like a funny tradition from what I've seen. Why do you have it?

[He looks down to his cup. It's getting empty. It gets lobbed onto a passing tray.]

Edited 2014-07-13 06:48 (UTC)

[He took a few detours through the crowd, but Wander finally reaches Narvin's side. He seems to be searching for him in the wrong direction, though.

So of course, the best thing to do is to grab his pant leg and hopefully direct his attention to the correct spot.]

[Narvin's eyes widen in pre-rant agitation, and he takes a deep breath.

...And lets it out slowly.

He wants to shout, to yell out that he's Lord High Chancellor, head of on and off world security and he demands to know what's going on. But he isn't Chancellor here. And Agent Kay isn't the Castellan and is under no oath to do a single thing Narvin says.

But being starved of information was starting to get to him. If he's not careful, temptation will break him and he'll start hacking computer systems.

He could just see the trial now. "I'm sorry, your Honor, but I was desperate. Surely you wouldn't punish a poor man for stealing a crust of data, a crumb of intel?"

He closes his eyes briefly and focuses on the distraction Kay's question provides. Plasters a mild expression on his face to push away the frustration.]

I'm not sure where the tradition comes from, possibly a hold over from the Dark Times. Gallifreyans ate natural food more frequently then. They are often present at important House gatherings. Loomings and tombings, the ascension of a new kithriarch, that sort of thing.

Uh uh.

[He says it in a tone. His own brand of authoritative, a tone that says he knows what that look means, that someone is upset that they're not getting information that they feel that they're entitled to but aren't actually entitled to, and they're starting to get frustrated with it. But Kay knows it's a slippery slope fro telling one person about one thing to ruining someone's life with a bit of misinformation.]

[So he tips his head and shakes it with his brief "uh uh".] Let me explain a very valuable oft misused but extremely useful phrase in the English language. It's called "calm down". "Calm down" is frequently misinterpreted to mean that the recipient of such phrase has no right to their feelings of anger or unease. For all I know you got some PTSD from a terrorist experience or you're lying through your teeth about the significance of your political affiliation. You know what? I don't care about either because it's your business until you look like you're plannin' something. It's fine. How you feel is what you what you feel. "Calm down" has nothing to do with that.

What "calm down" does mean in it's truest, rawest sense is that the recipient of such statement should consider how fervently they're pursuing their feelings of unease and if what they're doing is actually productive to the situation, not to stop feeling how they feel.

So. "Calm down". You're a technician. If we need you for technical stuff involving a terrorist attack, then we would get ahold of you or the one best suited for exactly what we need, alright? But right now you're a visitor and if you start treating these people as potential threats you're not gonna do many favors to the ones invited into this universe that really need to get away from a bad home and need to make a good impression. You're lookin' pretty high strung.

[He gestures out to the crowd.]

So what's a looming and tombing?[Moving on.]

Blackmoon Celebration

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