shitposting rave 3: Dawn of the third rave

-now he realizes she's grey, horned, and of similar dentition. Knowing things is his purview. He is not on his game tonight- Enhanced senses came with the toothjob. -slumps visibly, hands vanishing into his pockets- Huh, missed one. Found my lighter. -he looks at his cup, other things click, his gaze turns utterly mournful- Aaaaaand I forgot none of that is even going to work on me. -he slumps into a seat, head going THUNK on the bar- Fuck my death and everything in it.

 

(Reed realizes what she is doing and un-scrunches her posture.) Haha, no, I'm... good. Thank you. Mostly good. Don't like the idea of someone going around looking like me.

 

There, there. It'll get easier. This your first encounter with aliens?

 

Not really, which is half the reason it is "fuck everything forever" time. -spoken into the bar, without lifting his head-

 

'nd the other one?
(Oneira places another mug on the counter next to Terrence. This time it's filled with mulled wine.)

 

I am failing to notice things when knowing ALL the things because I can't stop noticing things is the job that bought me immortality. Shifting Sideways is disorienting, especially when apparently you're doing it at random, without knowing. Or preparing. Or anything. And I don't think I pissed off the Grey Lady so I don't think she's dropped me into my own special hell of self-humiliation. Probably. Unless she just felt like fucking with me, that is. Or she's doing it to get at Feight, but she's always mad at her and it wouldn't work anyway because she's probably just laugh. -the last bit is a little fond, and one hand pats the pocket he vanished the blood vial into-

 

Happens to the best of us, but at least there's still booze, right?

 

"...was that a thirteen-sided die I just saw?"

 

I dunno water you're talking aboat, Arha Ford.

 

Not for me. Not anymore. Some fucker decided to make me immortal and now I can only take it second-hand.

-sits carefully upright, eyes shifty, and in his most jaded Innocent Bystander voice- I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't see or hear anything. I wasn't even there that day.

 

That sounds less than optimal. In the same way I do not have a thirteen-sided die in my pocket?

 

your throat is fucking stupid! you LOOK fucking stupid!!

 

-he waves a hand, frustrated. His lighter goes flying. Whoops- I can drink it, sure, it just doesn't do anything anymore. I still made coffee for a decade because I kept forgetting it wouldn't work. Then 'Thiel broke my carafe over my head and I got the point.

 

Ford rolls his eyes. "It's not like I asked you if you had an infinity-sided die."

 

-his head whips around so fast his neck actually cracks- They make those?

 

"That´s mathematically impossible!"

 

youre mathematically impossible!!

 

Sounds like something they'd have in Office Years. The ones who weave the threads. Can see it now. Game about who can manipulate the drop best. Us down in Fates would too. More "cheating" on our end though.

Call it cheating anyway. Men in hats? They cheat too. Just with merit. Not hands.

 

Emperor's hat. Sound like one of those types down in Office Deaths. The number crunchers for King Enma.

 

Many things people have to deal with are sweetling and yet.
-Nichrome pets his head.-