[log] Noisy Black, Part One [closed]

[snowblindmods]

Characters: anyone who signed up for the Noisy Black event
Location: an office building
Date: Morning and Day 260
Summary: You wake up in a room.
Warnings: nothing of note for this part, please note any specific things that happen in the comment sections of your posts

Sinners Top Level
Converted Top Level

Comments

[sleight_of_fate]

Metal fingers. Well, that's interesting. Rhys peers over at the noise, and then the voice, raising his eyebrows as he gives a lazy stretch.

It takes him a second to even register what the younger man is talking about, and he raises his eyebrows. He's already been advised about the piercings, of course (remedied once he got himself a good scarf), but those are bright in his ears and eyebrow.

"Huh?"

[headjacked]

Tap, tap, tap. This seems to go beyond normal prosthesis, with the knuckles bending in perfect mimicry of human joints.

"Your hair. Is practically screaming 'grab me, monsters.'"

[sleight_of_fate]

It's a fantastic piece of craftsmanship, and Rhys watches it move with an odd sort of distraction before he glances back up at other-Rhys, blinking.

"Oh. Yeah. I had it braided and covered, before." He reaches up to touch the long black strands, mildly dismayed. Nice as it is that it's clean, there's also a lot of it.

He doesn't sound overly sold on the idea of scissors, however.

[headjacked]

Rhys can sense the apprehension there, and he gets it. Your look is your look, and it probably takes a fuckbillion years to get hair that long.

Practically, though...

"Hair grows back. If you just can't cut it, though, you gotta keep it from gripping behind you in the wind. Those things touch you? It's basically over."

Dispensing random Snowhell advice is nice and distracting.

[sleight_of_fate]

Rhys isn't ungrateful for the advice, and he thinks about it for a long time before he answers.

"If I get out of here, I'll keep it in mind. Or make sure it's out of the way." He gives Rhys a smile, thin as it is in the circumstances. He knows it's a liability in a fight, it's just one of those other things...like his first name...that he's touchy about.

Once he's gone a couple of weeks without being able to wash it, though, he might start feeling differently, too.

"And hey, now that you've gotten a look at me, at least you can come up with a good nickname." He smirks, fully expecting it to be terrible. He tips an invisible hat to the younger man, though, an amiable gesture. "Though I think it's pretty obvious no one's gonna have a hard time telling us apart."

[headjacked]

All this hair-talk is making Rhys self-conscious about his own. He rubs his cyber fingers through the strands, super-floofed by the cleaning they've all received. The details of which he is trying not to think about too hard. His hair refuses to slick back; his kingdom for some gel. Floof makes him look sooooooo immature.

"Forgive me, b-but my creative juices are kinda... dry at the moment." Still, he looks, and the most identifying feature outside of The Hair is the Rorschach blob he's turned his skin into.

"...Inky."

[sleight_of_fate]

"'Inky?'"

Rhys has to chuckle because it's not bad, but it's just silly enough that it makes him stop.

Also, there isn't anything blob about it. The sleeves are abstract, but most of his work is very much detailed, thank you. There just...happens to be a lot of it, okay.

"Well. I guess it's better than 'Clyde'. I mean. It is kinda fitting." He raises his eyebrows, but...yeah. He really can't challenge that one.