✘ appointments post

[imatreenow]

For those moments when we're in between posts and need to thread something out.

Please note the date and the type of post - action, written, or voice.

Comments

August 1st | DURING THAT ONE HOLOGRAM EVENT OKIE DOKIE?

[pearheaded]

[Can you hear that, Mithos? As you sit in your barred room? It's the sound of shrieking, unyielding, growing louder and louder and louder—until it finally flies by the boy's cell in a colorful mess of red, brown, and green and kamikazes into a wall nearby.

When the sad little heap relaxes into a sadder little heap, one can see what horror sits there: Ian Kolansky, ragged and dizzy, marks in his clothes that probably fit very well with the pattern of lion and tiger paws.]







Why... me...

August 1st | ROGER THAT

[imatreenow.livejournal.com]

[Yes, he did hear that great racket barreling closer. These tunnels echo, and noise carries a long way. Mithos focuses intently on the hallway outside the cell, on high alert for whoever (or whatever) could be approaching.

He actually jumps back a little when that shrieking blur whips past, instinctively reaching for a sword that...isn't there. Then he sees who it is.

Why him? Why?

He isn't going to say anything, just bore into the pathetic heap with an unwavering glare.]

[pearheaded]

[First off, Ian sits up and whimpers and complains about his life. Secondly, he notices an aura of loathing juuust behind him, so when he turns, he brightens up at the sight.]

HERBERT!! How ya' doin', Herb?

[imatreenow.livejournal.com]

[...still with that obnoxious nickname.]

What are you doing here?

[pearheaded]

Oh, I was running from giant lions and tigers and bears.

...






Sssssso, what's up?

[imatreenow.livejournal.com]

[No such battle dome beasties have yet to appear this far into the tunnels, so Mithos, ignorant to the general state of confusion in which Luceti finds itself embroiled, gives him a "you're stupid" sort of look. However, that isn't to say that he's remained completely unaffected down here. His cell has taken to changing in appearance a few times each day. Currently, it's pretending to be a castle dungeon, which is...appropriate enough.]

Nothing that concerns you.

[pearheaded]

Well, no, but it's nice to talk, isn't it?

[imatreenow.livejournal.com]

No. Solitude is far better company than you could be.

[pearheaded]

Oi, oi, that'd not very polite. Don't ya' got any manners?

[imatreenow.livejournal.com]

Do you not have any brains? It should be obvious that I despise you.

[pearheaded]

Why's that? I didn't even do anything to you!

make that 1/2

[imatreenow.livejournal.com]

You're--

[imatreenow.livejournal.com]

[His enlightening answer (or...insult, most likely) is swallowed up by the interior of the cell deciding it would rather be an ocean. What had been solid ground beneath his feet is now the water's surface, and so gravity and physics quickly pull him into the (surprisingly realistic) briny depths. Commence flailing.

A few seconds later, his head bobs to the surface again. Spluttering water and more flailing, but executed in a far more dignified manner. Maybe. He knows the rudiments of how to swim...it's just been a very long time, because why swim when you can fly and teleport? Strangely, despite the water being so deep where he is, it ends at the bars separating him and the tree man.]

[pearheaded]

[...


...


...]

U-uh. You need some help?

[That is water. Weiiird.]

[imatreenow.livejournal.com]

No. [He tries to shoot a glare over to Ian, but because the struggle to stay afloat requires more of his attention at the moment it probably falls flat in effectiveness. His now water-logged clothes aren't really helping things.

In his flailing, he somehow manages to end up where the bars demarcate the front of his cell. Finally, something solid to grab onto. He tries not to look like he's clinging too desperately. Or like too much of a drowned rat, but...well.]

[pearheaded]

[Ffffff, you're so adorbs when you're half-drowned! /pinches cheek]

Are you sure I can't throw you a... life vest, or something?

[imatreenow.livejournal.com]

And where would you find one down here?

[Very sardonic. Seriously, go away. He's still hanging on tight, but wet hands + sleek metal = not the best grip]

[pearheaded]

... Good point.

[/reaches towards, then! 8D]

Take my hand! I'll keep you from drowning!

[imatreenow.livejournal.com]

[nope, he doesn't let go even a tiny bit.]

As if I'd entrust my life to you.

[pearheaded]

Oh come on, I just wanna help you out a little.

[imatreenow.livejournal.com]

I neither want nor need your help.

[pearheaded]

But you look like a drowned mouse. Can I at least get you something to hold onto or something?

[imatreenow.livejournal.com]

[his eyes flare at what he takes to be an insult]

Does it look like there's anything here? [seriously, get some eyes.] The most useful thing you could do is leave me alone. [...and now he's shivering a little. great. Hey, underground + no sun + wet = chilly]

[pearheaded]

I can...




go fetch a nice stick to hold onto?

[imatreenow.livejournal.com]

I said I don't need your help! [The definition of snapping, right here. Forget wearing thin, his patience is broken right now. He doesn't want you anywhere near him, especially in such an infuriatingly helpless and vulnerable state.]