snowblindrpg | [log] Yo sound the bells, school is in, sucker [open?]

Entry tags:

[log] Yo sound the bells, school is in, sucker [open?]

Characters: Charles, Charlie, Quark, Jack, Davesprite, Homura, Dug, Beckett, Nat, Clint, ETC
Location School/School Shed
Date: 168, Day and Evening
Summary: Various people hunt for SD cards and food... and confrontation???
Warnings: Usual Charles language warning

[[OOC: This log is independent of Charlie's music post. If your characters want in on the sick beats, head over there. If you're here for SD card hunting and/or school shed shenanigans, this is the place for you!]]

29: A small shed outside the school, going inside reveals sports equipment is being stored in here. There are hurdles, various sports balls, giant mats, and the like. There's nothing that could be used as a weapon, though, unless you're going to try to hurl a basketball at someone's head. This is the only place on the campus it's possible to stay in overnight--if you try to stay anywhere else, you'll be made to leave at 7PM. The following is written on the wall in blue ink: "This is Building 46 on the composite map. Contact @CaptSteveRogers for details." Underneath is a fairly accurate map showing the shed in relation to the school. The school is labeled "School. Food available in cafeteria; DO NOT STAY HERE OVERNIGHT." The shed is labeled "Shed". Behind the shed is a small army of snowmen armed with sports equipment.

30: I'm not posting the entire school description...

A school that has begun to fall apart, bisecting the building. The only way to enter it is through the center, making it a bit difficult to properly search. It consists of two floors, both of which have scattered Ⓧs drawn on the boards in the classrooms

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Jack is traveling alone. (Well, unless you count the hallucinations of himself. But we're getting ahead of ourselves--)

Jack is alone. There was no one with him when he awoke in House 15. And while there seem to be people here, in this world and in this town, they only speak to him over the so-called "tablet", in technology from the future. It's not exactly a given, not to him, that this place is real and that he's not back in Davy Jones's Locker. He's been seeing hallucinations of himself again which is not so much new as a constant since he escaped from the Locker.

If he even escaped at all.

He hasn't had rum in a few days. That doesn't help.

But he keeps going. He keeps traveling and gathering things to trade. Because while everyone might not be real, they might not be not real. He makes his way to the school because it's large and it's a stop on the way to the Hotel which is the one place people tell him might have alcohol, maybe. He looks through as many rooms as he can, because he is meticulous, but also weapon-less and with a with a limited supply of rations and that's not ideal.

And so he makes his way down a hallway or into a room or into a mess hall and suddenly he is not alone. He stops in his tracks. "Oh," he says, before squinting his eyes suspiciously at whomever he's sharing the vicinity with. He turns around to look back the way he came. He turns back. "How'd you get here?" He asks, as though that might help him understand how someone (who is maybe real but maybe not) was able to get in the same location as himself without him being aware of it.

Evening 168

[Davesprite could have expected people to be here when he arrives. He saw Charlie's music post earlier, so that put the possibility of him and his group into things. But it's now in the evening when he and his group arrive that he sees just how crowded things really are. How many people does this make for? He sure fucking hopes this won't earn them an anomaly howling at the door all night.]

[No use just standing in the doorway staring, though. He clears his throat.]

Didn't know we were having a party here.

[And he floats on in. Float is the operative word, and between his raw appearance as an orange bird dude and what he's wearing, he has to look weird. But it's not the first group of strangers he's met by chance, and at least one of them—he nods to Charles—he has met before.]

Good news is the human-scale cheeto has arrived. Bad news is I'm inedible and I'm not up for anyone trying to prove me wrong. Too many feathers, not enough cheese dust. Factory workers must have been incompetent to make a thing like me. Haven't they ever seen a cheese puff? Here they got a cheese peep. Fuckin' disgraceful.

[Homura and Dug have showed up with him, but surely they can shuffle in and make introductions, be unsociable, or sniff strangers as suits their individual whims. Davesprite's gonna scoot over to the side here and see if he can't find something useful among the sports equipment.]

Morning 169 - for whoever's there overnight and would be there still in the morning

[Come the next day, after whatever chaos may have been wrought the night before, Davesprite rises early and easy with a task in mind. Last night he managed to find himself a couple more cans of spray paint among the field equipment, and you don't just ignore that. Fate has handed him a task, an assignment, a personal goal of utmost importance: to shit this shed up with some godawful art. It would be better if he had blue, but between the black, red, and yellow he has on hand, he can still make a few things.]

[One might find him outside working on his first masterpiece, a man with a beard and red shirt carrying an armful of mismatched sports equipment. After the main work has been completed, he adds like a piece of dialogue to the side, i cant wait to be a ~~athelet~~ ~~atel~~ athtlethic piece of shit all day and play all these spornts. The typos are deliberate and handcrafted. He only partly covers the first attempts at butchering the word "athletic", because seeing the mistakes is the point.]

[Or, once the interior of the shed is a bit less crowded with people, one might find him hunched down in a corner working on a different piece of a man in yellow. This one is smaller, tucked away on purpose, and labeled GEROMY.]

[Both pieces end up with the skin left blank to show the building material itself. There's not much better option when he lacks spray paint in peach and brown.]

Edited 2016-10-17 11:47 (UTC)

[Charles looks up from his spot near Quark and Charlie. He would be startled by Davesprite's appearance but... he's already seen him in person. Not that he was paying a whole lot of attention, seeing as how last time they met face-to-face, Charles was busily engaged in a standoff with Bucky. The one that Davesprite then publicized on the network. Yeah, if you thought he wasn't still pissed about that... he's still pissed about that.

He definitely doesn't look very pleased to see Davesprite. He ignores the jokes and goes right for the jugular.]

Great. Here to take more pictures so you can report to the network?

[It's about what he expected from him. Davesprite's had time to cool on that, regret his mistakes, and even to talk to Bucky and reach an understanding about his side of what went down. But Charles? Charles is just a headstrong dipshit who'd sooner prefer revenge than sense, from what he can tell.]

[He doesn't frown or scoff or even roll his eyes behind his shades. Instead, simple and deadpan, he pulls his tablet from his pocket to snap a picture of him.]

[His first instinct is to snap like a rabid dog, to jump to his feet and start looming. But no, that's what Davesprite wants. He's trying to provoke a reaction. And if there's one thing Charles is good at, it's not giving people what they want.

He stays right where he is.]

Really? You want to start that shit with me right now? The fuck's your problem?

[Of course he reacts that way. Charles was practically begging for a push; all he did was supply it.]

Well, shit.

[Click, another picture.]

I didn't know taking pics of a guy just sitting there in a shed constitutes a threat nowadays.

[Click, click.]

What's this world coming to?

[Charles gives him the flattest stare imaginable.]

Never said it was a threat, kid. You probably want it to be, though. You'd love to have something else to tell everyone about, wouldn't you?

[It takes Charlie a minute to put the pieces together. Mostly because he's super caught up in the orange floating bird guy. What??? But then orange floating bird guy talks and, oh, it's that guy from the Network with the rapping and such. The guy that gave him the deets after Charles' run-in with Bucky.

Right. This makes sense. He gives Davesprite a look that's a dual purpose "hi" and "can you not??" and then turns back to his buddy.]

Charles, c'mon man, chill out. This shed is like, way too small for this shit. [It's quiet, like he's trying to keep it between them, but of course everyone else can hear it too.]

[He looks back at Charlie, just as impassive as before. He's not the one getting worked up over nothing here. He snaps one more photo just to be a shit, then clicks the tablet off and stuffs it back in his pocket.]

If you're having trouble finding your bestie's chill, there's plenty right outside.

[He hikes a taloned thumb at the shed door.]

I've got nothing to report. The attitude problem advertises itself.

Whose attitude problem? Mine, or yours?

[But he does relent a bit for now, crosses his arms and sits back against the wall. He's super not happy still but, you know, gotta pick your battles. Charlie's right, the shed's too small for this.]

[Whoa there, friend. Charlie does not take kindly to Davesprite's sass. Is this kid making jokes about them freezing to death? Maybe, maybe not, but Charlie's going to interpret it in the worst possible way, anyway.]

We were here first, buddy. Kinda sounds like you need a few more minutes out there yourself. [He stands up. He doesn't like Davesprite literally talking down to him.]

Look, both of you need to take it down a notch, okay? I don't want to referee this shit all night.

[Davesprite shrugs at Charles in a wordless you tell me, but it's Charlie who takes his words and makes them worse.]

What? Jesus, no, that's not what I meant. It's wordplay, alright? I'm not telling you to leave; I'm saying he needs to calm down.

[It rankles more because freezing to death is how he went, and it was awful. He wouldn't wish that on anyone.]

If nobody can take a fuckin' joke around here, I'm done. [He puts his hands up, open and empty.] I'm gonna sit over here.

[And if they let him, he'll float on over a good space away from them and sink down onto a coil of his tail.]

I am taking it down a notch. [Still irritated, but his tone is notably less acidic toward Charlie than it is toward Davesprite. He doesn't stop the bird kid from moving away, but there's not exactly a whole lotta space in there, so he's still within earshot.

So naturally-]

We can take a joke, your jokes just suck.

[Charlie's still not sure what to make of Davesprite... Sometimes he's a jerk and sometimes he's cool and sometimes he's both. He's like Adriano from high school. He's probably a dick but he's got style, and Charlie is still compelled to eat gross shit off the floor to get Davesprite to think he's got style, too. Plus, Davesprite asked about his musical. Charles never thought to ask about his musical!!

So, he's bummed when Charles scares Davesprite away, but it's probably for the best. He's thinking he might go bug him again later once Charles has sufficiently crammed it, but then Charles opens his stupid mouth again and oh my god Charles he is going to smack your face off of your face.]

Dude. More notches, please. You're like, up here. [He illustrates where Charles' notch tally is currently with his hands.] And I need you to be, like, here. Way down here, okay? [And now his hands are, like, way down here.]

[His jokes are fine, and it's not his fault Charles is wound too tight to laugh, or that Charlie assumed the worst. To that end, he doesn't even answer him. He just digs his tablet out again to poke around the network.]

[Well, fine. He's clearly not relenting enough, so Charles decides that he's done, too. He settles back against the wall again, re-crosses his arms, and folds his knees up against himself. Covered in his several layers of clothing, which includes a shawl around his shoulders, he looks like a sulking babushka doll. If babushka dolls had like, stick figure legs.]

[And given that Charlie has successfully diffused the situation, he will go back to cleaning up his shiny new trumpet, feeling very proud of himself. He'll also periodically giggle quietly about Charles looking ridiculous. You look ridiculous, Charles.]

[Charlie wakes up to the sound of the shed door creaking open. Oh, lockdown's over. He takes a moment to shake off the sleep and then gets up, intending to poke Charles and Quark before realizing that Davesprite's missing. Homura and Dug are still hanging around, though, so was he the one that just left? What's up with that?

He heads outside to find Davesprite whipping up a work of art. Oh, cool. Charlie kind of wanted to talk to him, anyway. Without Charles around.]

Hey, bro. Whatcha working on?

[Davesprite's group has places to go today, and that's why he's chosen to come out so early. He's got his tablet in one hand to give him light, one can of spray paint in his hand and the other two arranged at the top of the backpack he has worn on his front. Easy access to the tools, you know. He glances over when he hears Charlie approaching, but doesn't take his attention off his work. He's busy with the black right now, spraying in an outline of what might be a basketball between the figure's arms.]

A little something called fine art. This is gonna be my masterpiece, Charlie. It's about time I graced the local architecture with my skills, and I just so happened to find some more paint in the shed to aid me in my quest.

Edited (belated typo fix) 2016-11-03 05:46 (UTC)

[Charlie squints at the drawing. It doesn't really look like a masterpiece, but at least Davesprite is having fun. Or something.]

Oh yeah? Cool, cool. What, uhh, what is it? Like a guy with a ball or something? Or like a net? What is that?

[Charlie found some paint in the shed too, but he's going to go ahead and keep that under his hat for now. No sense in wasting good inhalants on this stuff. Davesprite has enough colors already, anyway.]

Evening 168

[Dug is all nose as he bustles into the shed, quickly making the rounds. He almost immediately knocks over some of the sporting equipment and goes skittering away, but his look of fright is very short-lived. He'll be making the rounds, greeting (or at least sniffing) each of the shed's occupants, even the ones he already knows.]

Night 168

[The door is locked and everyone is in for the night. Dug lays curled in a little ball, feet tucked in close and tail over his nose, sleeping soundly...that is, until one of those feet kicks, and then another. Soon he's twitching in his sleep like he's running, occasionally letting out a low whine. His voice is as human-sounding as ever; it comes out as a mumble despite its electronic nature.]

Master -- stop the dogs....

[Charlie is awake. He's been having trouble sleeping lately, and all he wants to do now is to get back at that piano... At least he got a trumpet out of the deal this time, a real trumpet, but everyone would kill him if he tried to play it now. He can't even dick around on his tablet because it's not like he can read anything on it... So, since everyone else settled down for the night, he's just been staring at the ceiling. Probably. It's not like he can see the ceiling in this dark.

He doesn't notice Dug's twitching until the red light of his collar flashes through the room. Charlie starts, but then realizes it's Dug, and watches for a moment before crawling over to him. He pokes him lightly in the shoulder and whispers:]

Hey, buddy. You okay?

[Dug starts awake with a yip, thrashing his way partly upright, back end splayed out and elbows braced on the floor. He looks around, head moving rapidly and breath pulled in hard through his nose as he tries to orient himself in the darkness. He can smell someone beside him, and when he talks he can just see the outline of the man, too.]

Master?

[Dug's sudden jolt upright startles Charlie and recoils before realizing Dug is just as startled.]

No, dude. Sorry. It's Charlie. [He pulls his tablet out of his coat to give them some light.] Did you have a bad dream or something?

I could not stop the dogs.

[His ears droop, as does his whole head.]

And then I lost my master in the snow.

[Charlie has no idea what Dug's talking about, but it definitely sounds like a nightmare.]

That's really scary... But it was just a dream, okay? I don't think there are any other dogs around here, and uh, your master's probably not here either. Which means he's safe somewhere else.

[It's meant to be comforting, but, uh. Mileage may vary.]

[Dug is silent for a long moment. When he first came here, he was trying to find his master, sure that he was here. He misses his master very, very much...but it has begun to dawn on him that his master would be lucky not to be here.]

He is not here. And that is good because it means that he is safe.

[He says it quietly, trying out the words and trying to get used to the idea. Then he climbs to his feet and takes a step or two to bump up against Charlie and curl his body against him before laying back down.]

It was only a dream.

[Charlie's heart breaks a little when Dug curls up against him.] Right, yeah. He's safe. [It's probably true, but that doesn't mean it's easy. Charlie gets that.

He settles down next to Dug, happy to have someone warm next to him for a little while. He learned pretty fast that Charles is not really the cuddling type, which is lame because it's cold here. Charlie pulls his blanket over both of them and makes sure to tuck Dug in.]

But we're gonna get out of here soon and then everything'll be good. And in the meantime, there's like, a bunch of cool people here. Looks like you got some friends already, yeah?

[He starts to scratch Dug's head, but then stops because he's not sure if a talking dog is more of a dog or a person and he wouldn't just go around scratching people's heads. That would be weird.]

[It is cold enough here that Dug can be a good cuddler, under the blanket and all. He shifts only as much as he needs to in order to make sure he stays pressed up against Charlie as they both get settled in.]

Oh yes. I have friends. I have good friends.

[Even as he speaks, he lets out a yawn before letting his head rest on his paws. The scratching earns a few gentle wags of his tail that thump against Charlie's leg, and he tilts his head to bump it against the man's hand when he stops.]

And now we will have more food, because of the school. And I found a ball.

[Dug's head nudging against Charlie's hand lets him know that scratching is on the table, so he goes back to doing that.]

Oh yeah? That's great, man. Friends are good and food is good and balls are pretty good too.

[He glances over to where Davesprite and Homura settled down for the night. Not that he can see them, but he's vaguely aware of other bodies in the room. The shed is crowded tonight.]

Interesting group you're rolling with. How'd you guys meet up?

I found the girl when everything was white and we could not see each other.

[He relaxes against Charlie, one leg giving a brief kick as he lets his eyes droop shut. This is much better than curling up alone.]

Then we waited in a house for the bird, and he gave me a hat.

Cool, bro. [He says this through a yawn. He still doesn't really feel like sleeping, but his body is tired and it's winning him over. Dug is helping, too. He's warm, and that's nice. Charlie rolls onto his side and slings an arm over his dog friend to continue scratching his head.]

It's good you got some outerwear, too. It's like, wicked cold here. I always felt bad that dogs and cats and stuff gotta run around naked, and that was just in normal weather. Except I guess it's probably nice when it's hot out.

[Dug snakes out his tongue to give Charlie's face a lackadaisical lick, though he doesn't shift much from his position. This is much better than being on the floor alone.]

I am always naked, except when I am not.

[Charles is less interested in Dug's traveling companions, but this!! is a dog!! He never had a pet, and probably wouldn't want one, but this is a rare opportunity to interact with Norfinbury's friendliest animal resident (he thinks). He's in a visibly better mood when Dug comes over to greet him.]

Hey, I remember you. How've you been?

[He reaches out to let Dug sniff his hand, and then he will try to pet him. He's never really interacted with animals much, so he'll start with gentle head-pats.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[log] Yo sound the bells, school is in, sucker [open?]

School

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School Shed

open! (check the link for a description of his appearance and outfit)

for 168

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time for the "how many always sunny references can i mush into one tag" game

you two can continue on without me if you like o/

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morning 169

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open!

Night 168

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Evening (SORRY THIS IS SO LATE...)