[log] does anyone even read post titles [closed]

[phaseshifter]

Characters: Angel, Rhys, Vaughn, the Cat and Lutha
Location: CLOWN HOUSE (building 42)
Date: Day 160 for meeting the Cat; Day 161 for shacking up with Lutha
Summary: Hypers meet catte. Hypers plus catte escape gross skag anomaly and find clowns. And Lutha. But mostly clowns.
Warnings: CLOWN HOUSE (will edit as needed)



Yeah this is a blank log, fuckers, write your own starters etc etc

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Day 160 - Building

[absentconstellation]

[ Building 41: Step into the only remaining room in this house and you'll be in for a shock--at first blush, it looks like you've stepped into a room that has blood all over the floor and walls. Look closer, though, and it's actually paint. This was once an artist's studio, judging by the canvases stacked up in the corner. It seems like there were paintings on the canvases once, but now they're muddy or blacked out entirely by thick paint. Some of the paint on the walls has been scraped away, revealing yet more paint. Some of the canvases have had their paint scraped off, or have been taken apart entirely. ]

[ In the middle of the floor is a Cat. He may look like he's sleeping, all loaf-like on the floor like that, but he's really quite worried. He isn't sure how he got lost, but he does know that he has no food and no tablet. Again. This is becoming a problem.

One he will have to solve when he once more has food and a tablet. ]

[phaseshifter]

[ That is a cat. Kitty. Purrface. It is a catte.

Angel hasn't exactly been at her most upbeat lately. It's easy enough to maintain respectable levels of perkiness over the network, but in person? Not so much. She keeps telling herself she'll feel better once they reach Beckett again, but it's hard to concentrate on how things might get better when there's just so much to worry about.

But right now that doesn't matter so much because THERE IS A CAT. LOAF CAT. PRECIOUS SNOOZECAT. ACTUAL LIVING CAT. IT IS SO BABY AND SO FURRY AND SO CATTE??

Cat. ]

Rhys! Vaughn! Look, there's - oh, aren't you just the most handsome.

[ CAT, GUYS. A CAT. A! FREAKING! CAT!! ]

[absentconstellation]

[ Oh stars. He knows that tone, and he knows what it usually entails. His eyes shoot open, and in a fluid motion he is on his feet in an instant. He doesn't run, but he does watch the mortals carefully.

They're going to try to cuddle him, he can feel it. ]

[headjacked]

[ Rhys' attitude can't be called upbeat either, though he isn't as mopey or whiny as usual, which probably means he is trying to assume some manner of responsibility here. Vaughn and Angel are his best friends, after all.

As such, he's a little wary of this random loaf cat. ]

Hey, guys, what are the odds that that is a normal cat? Yeah, he's super cute and all, but the cuteness could be some kind of trap. Or. Something.

[moneyman]

Prooobably pretty low, but I dunno about the "trap" part. Maybe I just haven't been here long enough to assume nice things are always traps.

[ he glances around the room—the only room, apparently—and then kneels down to cat-level. you know, to look less intimidating. because he totally looks intimidating normally, right? ]

Doesn't look like there's any cat food or anything in here. You think the whole cabin fever thing applies to cats, too?

[absentconstellation]

[ The Cat stares back at him with bright violet eyes. As long as nobody is going to try to snuggle him he has no problem with these two-leggers, but he's not ready to rule that out just yet. ]

[phaseshifter]

[ Rhys gets the king of all eyerolls, because that is a cat and it is so cute and so toebeans, and Angel plops down beside Vaughn for a better look. ]

Iunno. He doesn't seem crazy or violent, though, right? So he isn't affected by it right now.

Unless it's just making him cuter. Because he's a cutie! Yes he is! Should we feed him> What kind of human food can cats even eat...?

[ The crappy granola bars or ice cream cups from the school? Maybe? HOW DO ANIMALS EVEN WORK. ]

[moneyman]

I don't know, meat? Not much we can do about that. I guess we could try offering him some of what we have, anyway? Better than nothing...

[ the argument could be made that they should hold on to their food, but he's not going to not give this cat some of it. the cat's stuck here just as much as they are, and it's not like he can carry a bunch of food around. you know, on account of being a cat. ]

[absentconstellation]

[ He relaxes a little at the mention of food. Eventually they'll notice the backpack full of rations tucked away in a corner. Until then... let them think he's helpless. He does enjoy being fed.

His tail fwips in interest, and he mews quietly. ]

Day 161 - Building

[hangfire]

[Building 42: A standard single-story house with a kitchen, living room, dining room, bathroom, and bedroom. Whoever owned this house once liked clowns; there are countless clown figurines and plushes decorating the bedroom and living room. Oddly, most, if not all, of the figurines are shattered. The stuffed animals were obviously once torn to pieces, but have been put back together. The job isn't perfectly done, but someone obviously tried their very best. There's also a life-sized clown statue in the corner of the living room.

There's a piece of painting tape on the wall opposite the door that reads as follows: "Angel and Rhys: If you find this, please find a way to tell me. - Clayton".]

--

[His previous company had been one thing to get used to, and the static-ridden paranoia another. But the stamping of feet galloping through the snow right outside? That's just a little too much. Even with his hearing as damaged as it is, Lutha still hears the monster long before he ever hears what, or who, it might be chasing. So congratulations to whoever gets through the door first, because you're getting a clown figurine chucked with remarkable aim right at your face.

The remainder of the night and well into the morning, one can find the redhead tensely curled up in a corner of the kitchen, orange striped fabric tightly drawn around his nose and mouth, the leg of a wooden table in his lap that he will not hesitate to grip if he spots someone. He's beyond exhausted and fighting not to tremble from how his body screams its discomfort, but his distrust of his surroundings and fellow housemates outweighs his need to rest.]

at some point during the night; precision is for NERDS;

[phaseshifter]

[ It's hard enough to sleep these days even without freaky not-quite-skags trying to break into your uncomfortably clown-filled shelter, so it's not really surprising when Angel abandons the traditional Hyperion Snugglepile™ to stretch her legs a little. She's not checking on Lutha, honest. Even if it wouldn't be weird if she did, since skags are pretty freaky even when they're not anomalies, and you never know how people are going to cope with that kind of thing. Especially while it's still scrambling around on the roof and sometimes peering in at the windows and

 

and okay, she might be checking up on him a little. She patters her way into the kitchen, glances over at the window - SEE SHE'S JUST CHECKING FOR THE ANOMALY THAT'S ALL - and then offers a careful smile. ]

Can't sleep? Sorry if I'm disturbing you.

[hangfire]

[With the constant sound of scratching and tumbling on the roof, Lutha already found himself struggling with his limited hearing, focusing on what was loudest and letting other things appropriately fade. As such, he doesn't seem to notice her at first, even after she pipes up at what should be a decent volume.

It's only when he stops staring at an unfocused part of the floor and catches the bright yellow of her coat in his peripheral that he draws himself up with a tight inhale, right hand clenching against his makeshift weapon as he glares at her overtop his scarf.]

What the hell are you doing in here?

[phaseshifter]

I - whoa. I didn't mean to startle you, there's no need for - uh. That.

[ She holds up her hands - one glowy, one bandaged and missing fingers, but both empty - in what she hopes is a distinctly non-threatening gesture. No weapons, friendo. Not outside her backpack, anyway. ]

The anomaly is keeping me awake, that's all. I assume it's the same for you?

[hangfire]

[The narrowing of his eyes is all the answer she'll receive to that question. Really. Like anyone could sleep through this.

He doesn't break eye contact, nor does he relax. He recognized her the second she came in the building, after all - @guardian, Angel, the girl who'd had too much to say about the tablets and apparently too much foolish care for objects over people.]

You can go be bothered by it somewhere else. I don't need a chatterbox.

[phaseshifter]

There's no need for that, either. We're all adults here.

[ Even though some people are being childish and cranky as heckie. NAMING NO NAMES. Angel doesn't shy away from the eye contact, instead choosing to interpret it as an invitation to take a seat.

Or. Perch on a kitchen countertop, as it were. It counts. ]

Is there anything you do need? Food? Spare pillow? A better weapon than that cra-- than the one you have now?

[ Look

Trading weapons is a perfectly valid way to make friends on Pandora okay don't judge ]

[hangfire]

[He hesitates at the request, tensely sliding himself away from where she sits. A better weapon would be ideal, but unless it just happened to be a knife or a gun, he wouldn't be any better off than where he was now.]

I don't have anything worthwhile to trade for any of that.

Look, can't you take a hint? I don't want to talk to you.

[phaseshifter]

Instead of trading, you could consider it compensation for me bringing an anomaly to your door and then having the audacity to talk to you? Reparations from Hyperion, kinda.

[ Which is a thought that's amusing enough to prompt a small snicker as she shrugs her bag off her shoulders. HAHAHA LIKE HYPERION WOULD EVER PAY OFF ANYONE WHEN THEY COULD JUST CRUSH THEM HAHAHAHAHA IT'S FUNNY! FUN, FUNNY TIMES.

She very carefully pulls a bundle of cloth strips from the bag (an ex-t-shirt, to be precise), and extracts a shard of glass from it about half as long as her forearm. It doesn't look especially impressive, but - ]

It's made of the same stuff as the windows. So it cuts through most things! Including anomalies, most likely, but I wouldn't suggest getting close enough to check.

[hangfire]

[Goddammit, woman, stop using terms he appreciates hearing.

There's a long pause as he tries to take a good look at the shard from his seat on the floor. The pure size of it immediately piques his interest - it's much larger than any of the other glass fragments he has - but there still was the matter of how the hell he would be able to use it as a weapon without injuring himself.

His tone flattens, the bite of irritation momentarily dying down.]

Where did you get it?

[absentconstellation]

[ Luckily for the Cat (though probably unluckily for whoever comes after him) he is too small and too fast to be hit by something like a clown toy thrown by a mere human.

In fact, he's through the door so quickly that Lutha might not even notice him to throw. ]

[hangfire]

[He does not, indeed, notice the small streak of black, too focused on whatever lingering blob of static just careened from the blow. The young man is covered almost completely from head to toe, save for a flash of red hair and dark, angry eyes resting overtop of the scarf wrapped thickly around his face and neck. The Cat, as quick as he is, will also likely get a good glimpse of where Lutha's left sleeve hangs oddly limp at the end of his forearm, the hand completely missing.]

[headjacked]

[ Rhys is the one clobbered by the figure, surprising absolutely nobody. It's a direct hit to boot. This isn't enough to knock Rhys completely off balance but it does get him to stumble and curse, focus momentarily pulled from their escape attempt. ]

AH, wh- what the hel - WHO IS THROWING STUFF??

[ Focus regained, however, when Angel and Vaughn make it in. Cat's accounted for, so he slams the door shut. ]

[hangfire]

[He has to scramble to get his hand on another projectile, quickly shoving his left arm back into his jacket pocket as he does so, but Lutha doesn't hesitate to chuck another figurine right in Rhys' direction the very second he's able.

His retort, however frantic, only comes out as a screeching mess of static.]

[headjacked]

[ Okay, you know what, Lutha? The first blow he could forgive. There are bigger, nastier things to worry about outside. The SECOND, however, is completely un-freaking-called for. He crosses the gap between himself and the redhead in a few quick steps and delivers a slap across his face.

A cold, robotic slap. Not hard enough to bust anything up, but ouch. ]

Chill OUT and HELP US if you want to live!

[ He's hoping the smack is enough to jolt the guy out of his freakout. Rhys tries to make his way back to the door to help his traveling party hold it shut. ]

[hangfire]

[The blow lands solidly, knocking Lutha back with enough of a twist that his scarf loosens and falls from his face. The scars that claw their way all the way up past his jawline only make an ugly frame for how quickly the boy's cringe of pain snaps to a wild-eyed, furious scowl.

Without pause, he's back on his feet, pursuing Rhys until he's within arm's reach. His good hand finds Rhys' hair and pulls backwards as hard as he can, while what remains of his left arm hooks around Rhys' left arm, gripping it in the crook of his elbow and yanking it hard behind his back.]

[headjacked]

[ This is the most ridiculous shit Rhys has experienced. Within the last, like, few hours, anyway. He squeakyelps when Lutha yanks him back by the hair and pins his arm. Rather than shake Lutha off, he pivots, using his height to his advantage and shoving the possibly crazy guy against the nearest window, wedging it down with his weight.

He lets the anomaly slobbering against the glass do the talking for him. ]