shitposting rave 3: Dawn of the third rave

Aww. Naw, no rollink in der hay mit keeds, dotz chust not right.

 

Mi, works good. But got to keep claws in, or we get wet. -the mi shakes itself dramatically-

 

Little mice can fell bulls. Good on you.

-grins at the mi-

 

"It's been a week or more," Ford points out. "Valiska hadn't even gone into season then, and now we're having kits in the spring. A few days ago, that was when Sev, Valiska and I became a triad. I bet that when Moira comes back from her trip she will say 'I told you so' and I will have to point out yet again that I don't speak 'hint' or 'metaphor' well."

 

(Deirdre waves her Lantern in @the author speaks' direction and inspects him, but from a respectful distance. Not that she'd know, being blind.)

 

I screwed up my timekeeping. Sorry. Weeks and days just feel a bit too similar to me, and if I'm not thinking, I sometimes forget about the difference.

 

Not mice, mis!

 

Was a figure of speech. Know you're not part of the Mouse Hole. Respectable though.

 

Ford waves at Deirdre, since he can't see her closely enough to be able to tell, and why would a blind person carry a lamp?

 

"Trying not to get killed" isn't generally my idea of fun, but it tends to go rather quick.

Ah, you didn't procreate that way before. Figures, you resemble Constructs. Nobody knows how they make more. If they do.

There's also the me I would have become, if my timeline hadn't gone sideways and I hopped univer-
[BLORP]

{This could be fun. Please hold while unreality unresettles itself.}

 

I've never had to do that. One of the perks of being immortal, I guess...

 

At the middle of a night very dark, a blind was walk in the streets with a light on the hand and a full jar upon the back. Some one which ran do meet him, and surprised of that light: "Simple that you are, told him, what serve you this light? The night and the day are not them the same thing by you!—It is not for me, was answering the blind, that I bring this light, it is to the and that the giddie swhich seem to you do not come to run against me, and make to break my jar."

 

"Count your blessings, and don't worry about the timekeeping. My first five years out of my original dimension, I didn't get to do much else. Of course I only remember the parts of that that happened after I got most of my brain back, so I'm counting my blessings as well."

 

Vot der dumboozle?

 

(Be as it may, Deirdre's eyes are closed and she has never opened them. But she approaches Ford, because there's stuff sewn into his soul that looks interesting.)
(Of note, Deirdre has six fingers on each hand as well, and, while looking superficially human, has an uncanny facial structure and ears that suggest she's not actually human)
Pardon me for my frankness--
Ah, wait, scratch that. I should probably introduce myself first before I go rambling on about souls and their oddities, yes? I rarely deal with the living any more, you see. I am Deirdre of the Lantern. What is your name?

 

*sighs* Yeah. I know that was rough.

 

This ink is white.
This room is filled of bugs.
This girl have a beauty edge.
It is a noise which to cleave the head.

 

What the mi?

 

"Stanford Pines," Ford says, and grins. "Pleased to meet you. I see that you're, ah...another polydactyl. I'm not surprised my soul is weird, since nearly everything else about me is."

 

Quadruped's beasts.

Lamb | Roebuck
Ass | Dragon
Shi ass | wild sow
Ass-colt | Lioness
Ram, aries | Dormouse