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station722017-03-30 09:34 am
sistershoggoth) wrote in station722017-03-30 09:34 am
Entry tags:
This horrid mass shall give us pause
CHARACTERS: Open
WHERE: WAYPOINT SHRIL
WHEN: Day 29
SUMMARY: Alien rock, other stuff in the top levels.
WARNINGS: N/A, will update as necessary.
Annie Westwind doesn't have down the whole 'not bleeding out her every thought and feeling' thing. She's not given to it, really, she's always had too much going on in her head, and she just lets it go where it will. Unless someone gives her a reason better than 'making others comfortable' she probably won't try.
Her excitement starts out tame. She's found something interesting, one of those little sparkles of intrigue that you may even have gotten used to over the past few days. It's not an unpleasant feeling, after all. However, her eagerness ramps up increasingly over the following few minutes, quite dramatically.
She's found an impromptu alien band blocking off one of the alleyways, set up on stage of crates, stolen plating, and torn fencing. At first she'd thought they were just boring ass street preaches, yapping about something dramatic she hadn't listened to at all, but then they began the drumming. Like an infernal military march. So she'd crept closer, winding her way through the gathering crowd. As the other instruments began they were just as wild and noisy, and then their alien singer began to snarl and growl, the crowd of unruly aliens before them beginning to jump and sway.
( Holy shit! )
It's about the most articulate thing that comes out of Annie as she joins them. Unfortunately for the rest of you, she's taking in and essentially re-transmitting this noise. Not just the terrible alien punkrock, but the press and excitement of the pit. Her breathless exhilaration as she dances and stomps and raises up a yell when prompted by the huge hairy alien on the stage.
His first song, assuredly, is dedicated to the large swinging genitals between his legs.
The worst of it, however, is when Annie actually picks up the lyrics of one of the songs. In person, her accent in emulating the alien growling is not up to par, but in her head it sounds legit, ok.
WHERE: WAYPOINT SHRIL
WHEN: Day 29
SUMMARY: Alien rock, other stuff in the top levels.
WARNINGS: N/A, will update as necessary.
Annie Westwind doesn't have down the whole 'not bleeding out her every thought and feeling' thing. She's not given to it, really, she's always had too much going on in her head, and she just lets it go where it will. Unless someone gives her a reason better than 'making others comfortable' she probably won't try.
Her excitement starts out tame. She's found something interesting, one of those little sparkles of intrigue that you may even have gotten used to over the past few days. It's not an unpleasant feeling, after all. However, her eagerness ramps up increasingly over the following few minutes, quite dramatically.
She's found an impromptu alien band blocking off one of the alleyways, set up on stage of crates, stolen plating, and torn fencing. At first she'd thought they were just boring ass street preaches, yapping about something dramatic she hadn't listened to at all, but then they began the drumming. Like an infernal military march. So she'd crept closer, winding her way through the gathering crowd. As the other instruments began they were just as wild and noisy, and then their alien singer began to snarl and growl, the crowd of unruly aliens before them beginning to jump and sway.
( Holy shit! )
It's about the most articulate thing that comes out of Annie as she joins them. Unfortunately for the rest of you, she's taking in and essentially re-transmitting this noise. Not just the terrible alien punkrock, but the press and excitement of the pit. Her breathless exhilaration as she dances and stomps and raises up a yell when prompted by the huge hairy alien on the stage.
His first song, assuredly, is dedicated to the large swinging genitals between his legs.
The worst of it, however, is when Annie actually picks up the lyrics of one of the songs. In person, her accent in emulating the alien growling is not up to par, but in her head it sounds legit, ok.
no subject
And now there's Noctis. A weary king tied to a broken down soldier.
"Yes," she mutters, feeling irritated with him, herself, the reality of her existence: part woman, part symbiote, part stardust. "I'm not picky, just bring whatever."
no subject
It’s decided, then. He’ll find art supplies for her, or at least, he’ll for damn sure try. Maybe even cigarettes if he happens to stumble across a carton.
Already his mind is filtering through a palette of colors he could search for. For some reason it always settles on the color black, though he knows that alone won’t do.
“All right. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
A hand moves to his hip, considering.
“Just… no more alien rock concerts for today, okay.”
no subject
"I'll go find some coffee."