shitposting rave 3: Dawn of the third rave

"I've only spent about two years of my life around them. I don't know all the varieties they come in, yet."

She lifts her hair to show her much smaller but still pointed ears. "Seems we have that in common, at least! You must have excellent hearing."

 

"Never heard of that. I'm Kencyr highborn. There aren't many of us. Most Kencyr are of the Kendar people; they're much taller and stockier than I."

 

[He looks interested, and leans in to see Jame's ears better.]

I wonder why we both have-- ah, but the qunari have pointed ears too, so I suppose it isn't unprecedented. Elves used to be the only ones on Thedas, but the shems, the humans came, and we lost our immortality. Or so the Dalish teach. I have my own counsel on our origins, but we are fairly common, when we're not being murdered in droves at least.

 

"We never had immortality, though we are long-lived compared to humans. I will likely see 150 years and maybe more, in the highly unlikely chance of my surviving that long!" She smiles self-deprecatingly. "We're not native to our current world, though."

 

-is sleeping nearby. curled up daintily. his mask fell off while he sleeps. what he dreams of is a mystery-

 

[the clown "stealthily" tries to put a clown mask on torisen

with stealthily in quotes, as it's quite difficult to be truly silent when walking around in squeaky clown shoes

 

-what he dreams of is a horrifying monster covered in strange white paint. it wears comically large shoes. oh gods what is this hideous thing. torisen wakes with a shout and flails violently at an unseen foe-

 

Now, clownface. Take your non-consensual clownmaking elsewhere.

 

i bet clowvnification is a real kink!

 

Everything's a real kink, don't mean this squishie's into it.

 

[The clown flees, dropping dozens of banana peels behind itself before inevitably tripping several meters away.]

 

-is breathing heavily and very tense. god. clowns. what horrible things-

The dreams need to stop looking at what is already happening.

 

Hey, Jame's brother. I think that's what you are anyway. I told that clown to go fuck off and stop messing with you. I'll shoot it in the face if it returns.

 

fuck you

 

I'm Jame's sister. Brother. Whatever we're calling it today. I prefer brother.

...and that's a rather extreme solution, but given WHAT we're dealing with...Thank you.

 

[The clown slinks off into the darkness. Its ominous honking echoes and reverberates throughout the rave.]

 

God, you'd think that thing came out of the Master's house.

 

Fucking Clowns.

 

Sometimes the world needs people willing to do the dirty work, and Gods know my soul is already filthy.

I understand from talking to Jame -- the one I've met before, not the Jame of your world -- that that is a deeply unpleasant concept.

 

Deeply unpleasant is an understatement, honestly.

As to Jame, with how you've dealt with this matter I'd think the two of you would get along.