shitposting rave 3: Dawn of the third rave

She~.
-She hunches into her sweater more.-

 

Dude, just lay off of her, yeah?

 

How quaint a mariner you seem
To feel so unsettled by these sights
That you draw yourself up to odd the rights
Might you be lacking in self esteem?

 

Oneira reaches out to Acheta, her hand hovering above hers, but not touching her.
"I can't speak for the waking world, but you're safe from him while you're in my space, promised."
With her other hand, she pulls a necklace with the sym69ls from under her shirt, just enough that Acheta but no one else can see it.

 

-She nods.-
Knowing is different from feeling~.

 

vwhatevwer.

ivwe barely talked to the vwhelp. she keeps engaging ME.

unless youre talking about her little knightmare in oddly stiff armor.

 

What's your sigil got to do with your frame, though? Like, horns I can see if they're so distinct, that's easy, but-- that's just a base? There's gotta be hundreds of sparklings ready to be excavated on any given day so hatchdate's useless, and... what good's color when it mostly gets carved into stuff, not painted on?

The Ancestor thing sounds like more dumb rules, sorry :T I'm me, not some clone of some random shifter Vek-knows-how-many-mil ago that's gotta do all the same things.

 

Oneira smiles. "Tell me aboat it."
She produces a glittery white pen from somewhere, and writes letters in the air. They do not appear at the tip of the pen, but rather seem to be following calicosAssassin around. They read "hurr durr i am a huge edgelord".

 

As a Star Fleet medical officer I've had personal contact with a number of telepathic species. Empathy, telepathy, mind-melds, I was even attacked by a Lethean, once, and let me tell you, my friend, living to tell about it is no small feat! That's not to mention psychokinetics, hive-minds, and shapeshifters, though I've only had extended experience with the last of those. Oh, but all us humans can hope for is mild ESP.
Are you telling me your species has... abilities as a matter of course? Do you think you could tell me how they manifest?
And... I'm sorry, you were a battleship?

Is it too much to hope you have Tarkalean tea?

-He sits next to her and smiles.-

Hello, there, may I ask your name? I'm Bashir. Julian Bashir.

 

Acheta Mopani~.
I like your name~.

 

Aw what the fuck, you mean that in the cool space future we don't get to stick around? That's some bullshit. Queenie would be so mad if he ever found out.

 

His smile is arsenic and his glare a blade.
"Oh excuse me, If you cannot see the charms of this little lady here. And of course no member of the fair sex would show you her soft side as reprehensible as you make yourself. Now, from someone whow prides himself on understanding people quite well: Authority is earned not stolen. But I feel you are a lost cause anyway."

He quite deliberately turns his back on cA, turning to Bit and smiling at her, sadly.
"I will... well not live, I fear that opportunity has passed. And I will also not lie as blatantly as to say I will be alright or fine. But I will manage. Somehow. It is an honor that you care so much, my dear, but don't. Not on my behalf."
He very carefully puts a hand on her shoulder.

 

Oneira grins, a bit lopsided. "Welcome to the attitude just about everyone teal-and-down has towards Ancestors, although this dreamscape here allows me to know that the lady exclusively speaking in rhyming four-liners is my ancestor, and that I very much would not like to follow her footsteps."
"And signs are bound to colour. Can't have a non-fuchsia pisces running about, yknow? And I guess between blood hue and seven-hundred-odd days to a sweep, there's enough symbols to go around?"
Oneira blinks. "You guys get excavated? How does that work?"

"Lemme check...", she dives under the counter, and reemerges with another tin, whichs contents she prepares into something that at the very least looks, smells, and tastes like Tarkalean tea.
"No idea how long it needs to steep though, sorry."

 

see, if that vwere true, i vwould be a lot more grubfaced than i am. your standards go dowvn vwhen youll be brutally slaughtered if you dont havwe a date by drone day.

 

Thank you. I like yours as well, but... is that 'acheta' as in the genus of cricket? Are your parents entomologists, by any chance? It's a strange name for a child.
It's lovely, of course!

Thank you, that's quite alright.
I'm honestly surprised you have this. Where is your home planet?

 

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Uh~.
What's a parent~?

-She pokes her head out of her sweater to give him a funny look.-

 

He looks honestly taken aback.
"Even a man of as little honor as you surely knows that there is quite a difference between unions of convenience and those growing of the sweetest gentleness of true love and devotion? Do you truly think I have been in true heartwrenching love with every person I ever left a soirée with? I assure you no such thing is the case and this just happens to be my profession. My livelihood depends on it in a sense but not quite so urgently my life."

 

[She watches his hand carefully, but when it only rests on her shoulder doesn't make a fuss.]
...'s it count if I care about everyone on that level? 'Cuz like. No one should be [she makes an odd noise, something like the creak of an unoiled hinge; whatever she's trying to say, it evidently doesn't parse through the "universal" translator]. Just like no one should be forced to obey, or-- or smelted down just for existing.

...I guess if color's important for some reason that makes sense? 'Sat why Oneira called the rainbow drink edgy?

Excavation... ehh, hm. Sparks come up in hotspots-- if anyone did a science on how or why, Sil doesn't know or didn't tell me. An' they collect shells outta the metal around'em... why're hotspots always on metal, anyway? ...uh. Anyway. Spark makes a shell, called a protoform, and once it's stable enough to move without breaking a crew picks up the proto! Aaaand I dunno how exactly that works, if they're, like, still embedded or whatever? Catch Sil'n ask'em sometime, they're a caretaker!

 

obvwiously they vwerent ALVWAYS out of convwenience. sometimes you find something thats good for a vwhile, but then they die or leavwe or something happens and theres no use spending the rest of your life blubbering about it. theres alvways going to be someone newv.