rudolphofvamps (
rudolphofvamps) wrote2011-08-08 06:23 am
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001. everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.
Phone.
[Spike sounds oddly manic, not that you would know it was odd for him.]
I guess this is like a conference call, huh? So who's on the other end. [a few crickets...] Not sure what to make of all this, but. Haven't seen a phone like this since--[sudden throat clearing]
What do you lot do around here? Go to the drive-in with your steadies and buy big league chew at the game with your pop? It's all just a little [frightening?] too good to be true.
[muttering] Still not sure I'm not dreaming this up. [Or you know, still in a basement losing his mind.]
Action for 1448 Mitchell Road.
[Oh, Krillin, where are you? He'll only be terrified to see you.
He doesn't even know there's anyone else in the house, going to pour himself a bowl of cereal and ruffling up his hair. It feels bizarre and not at all right that his growling stomach actually wants human food.
But it feels good, too.]
Open Action.
[Spike is walking down Mitchell Road, but feel free to meet him anywhere he'll be walking a while. In slacks and a plain blue sweater, he's just, meandering, hands in his pockets as he tries not to feel the remnants of sunlight beat down on his back. It's so strange and wonderful to feel it and yet, what did he do to deserve it. Is this a new kind of Hell dimension where they torture you with kindness.
And then he bumps into you because--without vampire senses he's really the clumsiest person you've ever met. Actually, he's not that smooth with them either.] --Sorry. [Just make nice with the locals until you get the skinny, he keeps telling himself. Easier said than bloody done. This place was Stepford creepy and twice as annoying.]
[Spike sounds oddly manic, not that you would know it was odd for him.]
I guess this is like a conference call, huh? So who's on the other end. [a few crickets...] Not sure what to make of all this, but. Haven't seen a phone like this since--[sudden throat clearing]
What do you lot do around here? Go to the drive-in with your steadies and buy big league chew at the game with your pop? It's all just a little [frightening?] too good to be true.
[muttering] Still not sure I'm not dreaming this up. [Or you know, still in a basement losing his mind.]
Action for 1448 Mitchell Road.
[Oh, Krillin, where are you? He'll only be terrified to see you.
He doesn't even know there's anyone else in the house, going to pour himself a bowl of cereal and ruffling up his hair. It feels bizarre and not at all right that his growling stomach actually wants human food.
But it feels good, too.]
Open Action.
[Spike is walking down Mitchell Road, but feel free to meet him anywhere he'll be walking a while. In slacks and a plain blue sweater, he's just, meandering, hands in his pockets as he tries not to feel the remnants of sunlight beat down on his back. It's so strange and wonderful to feel it and yet, what did he do to deserve it. Is this a new kind of Hell dimension where they torture you with kindness.
And then he bumps into you because--without vampire senses he's really the clumsiest person you've ever met. Actually, he's not that smooth with them either.] --Sorry. [Just make nice with the locals until you get the skinny, he keeps telling himself. Easier said than bloody done. This place was Stepford creepy and twice as annoying.]
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Oh by the way he doesn't talk much. Comes from being a giant world-circling sea monster turned into a human and being forced to learn how to speak. He doesn't like it. He avoids it whenever possible. It's hard and stupid. Etc.]
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Does it speak?
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Yess.
[The slight hiss on the s sound is almost involuntary. Not that he minds too much.]
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I'm Spike.
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[At least this guy didn't start off by immediately annoying him. That's good.]
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Nowhere.
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He shrugs again.]
No.
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And the question catches him off guard. He had never really had a need for timekeeping before, but now that he was here, and in human form... he had noticed the timekeeping and had sort of gotten the hang of it by now. It still took him a moment to figure out how long he had actually been here.]
...Two monthss.
[And he was probably never going to get the hang of that t sound. He hated it.]
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Jormungandr understands eternity. He understands forever. He knows what forever feels like.
And two months, yes, two short, insignificant little months, they have felt like forever.
He's silent, as all this runs through his head. And, because he is incapable and unwilling to articulate it, he simply responds with one word laden with the endless frustration that has become his life.]
Yess.
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Hell, I've only been here a few hours and it feels that way.
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...yess.
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You're quite the social butterfly, you know. You could be on TV. [And he was entertaining Spike to boot. He let a pause lapse a second before,] Oy, mate, you know where I could get some smokes?
[With his new human biology, he felt...actually compelled to smoke out of more than just nerves or habit. It was definitely odd.]
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Smokes... those are the things the drone men are always burning and inhaling, right? The cigarettes. He thinks he knows where you can get those. He's seen them in town. He shrugs and nods and starts heading off in the direction of downtown.]
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You're not so bad, you know, Joe.
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Joe?
Really?]
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This guy really isn't going to bother with his name, is he.
Wonderful.
You know what? Fine. Most of the people in this town don't even know who he is, so why get upset if one or two of them don't even bother with his name?
He shakes his head in annoyance and keeps walking.]
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