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memesville2020-10-25 11:03 pm
robbies) wrote in memesville2020-10-25 11:03 pm
Entry tags:
TDM - OCTOBER 2020
TEST DRIVE MEME - OCTOBER 2020
Everyone's entitled to one good scare.
CW: Violence, death, mouth trauma, vomiting, needles, razors
“Help me. Please, help me…”
A child’s voice, calling out for aid. There’s no rhyme or reason for when it comes to you. It’s so quiet, a whisper in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind. Were it not for the sharp, stabbing pain it pulls out of you, you could ignore it. You could even pretend it’s just your imagination.
It all happens so quickly and powerfully. Left in the dust, your brain struggles to process it all. Blacking out is the least it can do, but it’s also all it can do, and it does so before you even have a chance to fully register just how young the voice is, and how deeply, heartbreakingly lost it sounds.
When you finally awaken with your bare feet tangled in soft sheets, a layer of fuzzy fleece or slinky silk clinging to your body like another layer of skin, the sunlight pouring in from the window next to your bed momentarily blinding you, and the cries of happy children playing baseball outside of it carrying faintly, it all becomes very clear—
Something is horribly wrong.
A child’s voice, calling out for aid. There’s no rhyme or reason for when it comes to you. It’s so quiet, a whisper in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind. Were it not for the sharp, stabbing pain it pulls out of you, you could ignore it. You could even pretend it’s just your imagination.
It all happens so quickly and powerfully. Left in the dust, your brain struggles to process it all. Blacking out is the least it can do, but it’s also all it can do, and it does so before you even have a chance to fully register just how young the voice is, and how deeply, heartbreakingly lost it sounds.
When you finally awaken with your bare feet tangled in soft sheets, a layer of fuzzy fleece or slinky silk clinging to your body like another layer of skin, the sunlight pouring in from the window next to your bed momentarily blinding you, and the cries of happy children playing baseball outside of it carrying faintly, it all becomes very clear—
Something is horribly wrong.
OCTOBER 1st.
It becomes very clear very quickly that this isn’t a simple kidnapping.
By the time you make it down to the living room, you’ll notice that the television is on; someone must have forgotten to turn it off before they went to bed. On it, a cartoon pack of cigarettes and accompanying cigarette dancers prance around a black and white pumpkin patch, joined by dancing skeletons, ghosts and witches as a cheerful little earworm blares: ”Thirty days til Halloween, Halloween, Halloween, thirty days til Halloween—“ |
GETTING TO KNOW THE NEIGHBORS.
| As you get acclimated, you gradually begin to learn more about this strange new world you’ve found yourself in. You’re in a neighborhood on the east side of a town called Santa Rosita located… somewhere in California (wherever or whatever that might be). The year is 1961. If it wasn’t clear enough, your neighbors are more than willing to humor you if you ask. Even if you accost them with questions and demands. Sure, you and your family are a little kooky, and you have a very overactive imagination, but the key to any good joke is playing along! And how could something like “I’m from the future, from another world” be anything but a joke? A. AUNT MYRNA'S PARTY CHEESE SALAD.Over the course of the week, your neighbors will come by unannounced, each with a new homecooked meal to welcome you to their cozy little side of town. Meatloaf, potato salad, lamb chops. Gelatin molds — lots of gelatin molds.Someone even comes by to drop off a gelatinous yellow lump of pineapple, green peppers, celery and yellow cheese swimming in a soupy mixture of sour and whipped cream. “It’s my aunt Myrna’s recipe!” they gush once they drop the casserole tin into your hands, proceeding to rattle off every ingredient. Well, at least you won’t be starving anytime soon. When you bring it back in to your kitchen - and its cheery wallpaper and its floral patterned Pyrex dishware, you and your new...family(?) all stare at the cheese salad, the gelatin, the curiously frosted meatloaf spread. A smorgasbord courtesy of the insistent generosity! Who will take the first bite? |
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B. DON'T BE A SQUARE!
You can only avoid the cheer and the neighbors for so long, even as you sit inside enjoying all the amenities of your new home. The television can only turn its volume up to five, after all! One bright and sunny Saturday, the weather crisp and clear, news broadcasts and reruns of The Ed Sullivan Show are drowned out by the music in the neighborhood. Eventually it’s too much to bear — you simply must put on your shoes and go discover the source of that infernal racket.Why, it’s the block party! Haven’t you seen the invitation — with instructions — sitting in your mailbox, silly? Wear a badge so everyone on the block can know you’re new and welcome you to their extended family!
Well! Each neighbor was supposed to set up a table with snacks and drinks and entertainment on their front lawn. Carter Mayhew, one of your Robbie neighbors, has a whole ring toss obstacle course set up for boys to play with, and his wife is cheerfully and blandly instructing a group of girls on jump rope rhymes. Colorful streamers hang from every lamppost and mailbox, balloons and party favors galore. Like you, there are even a few newcomers to Santa Rosita that are caught just as unaware of this event — though others are being welcomed in by husbands and wives and children, caught in conversations about building decks and the upcoming Halloween festivities.
Before you can decide if returning home or joining the party is your choice, a plate with chips and dips and yes, more gelatin is shoved into your hands and a party hat snapped on to your head.
“The guest of honor has arrived! Come and meet your neighbors, neighbor!”
THROUGHOUT OCTOBER.
|
Life falls into a peaceful haze for the next several days. Dull, unassuming, tranquil. As the month drags on, the spirit of Halloween begins to manifest in Santa Rosita, from the pumpkins people start putting out on their doorsteps to the smiling faces of paper skeletons pressed against their windows. And then, towards the end of the month, something terrible happens. You hear it first through word of mouth, rippling through Santa Rosita like a wave, dark murmurs accompanied by sad sighs and downturned eyes. Soon, you start to read about it. Grim business, they say. A tragedy. How could something like this happen. People stop talking about it by the end of the week. Best just to forget about it. Every day, that cigarette commercial comes on. It’s impossible to escape it. And every day, the number of days in the song changes, counting down. ”Thirteen days till Halloween—” “Eight more days til Halloween—” “Three more days til Halloween, Halloween, Halloween…” |
HALLOWEEN.
CW: Violence, death, mouth trauma, vomiting, needles, razors
|
October 31st. It sneaks up on you whether you like it or not. When dawn breaks on Halloween day, things are as serene as they’ve ever been as men do yard work, raking leaves as their wives bake fresh pie and cookies in the house, the spicy scent of cinnamon, apple and pumpkin wafting through the neighborhood on chilly October wind. There’s a smile on every child’s face as they skip off the school bus in the afternoon, running into their houses to get their costumes ready. As it begins to get dark, the residents of Santa Rosita start lighting their jack-o-lanterns. One by one, little balls of light flicker to life on every porch and doorstep, jagged smiles grinning in the dark. For the entire night, nobody blows the candle inside their pumpkins out. It’s a tradition, a very old one, and traditions are just another way of saying rules. And Halloween in Santa Rosita, as it turns out, lives and dies by the rules. |
A. ALWAYS CHECK YOUR CANDY.
Halloween isn’t just for the kids, although they certainly make up the bulk of who you’ll see out and about on the streets. Walking through Santa Rosita, your neighbors are as generous with handing out treats as they are with handing out gelatin molds and pot roasts, and they don’t discriminate. Adults are received just as warmly as children; the worst one can expect is a quirked eyebrow if they show up to a house without a costume.Apples, packs of gum, homemade cookies. Chocolate bars, nickels, popcorn balls. Your neighbors hand out all sorts of treats, most of them homemade. The Robbies are no exception, and it’s their treats that seem a bit more high quality than most, some of the candy they hand out being obviously expensive, brand names. The good stuff. They drop each treat into your bag with those same pleasant, mild expressions and too-tight smiles you’ve grown used to in your short time here.
Eventually, as everyone winds up doing at some point in the night, you decide to start digging into your treat bag to sample some of your well-earned goods — maybe in the comfort of your home, maybe outside on the streets. And that’s when the fun begins.
Maybe you bite into metal, the razor sharp end of a blade embedded into the apple or candy bar you’ve picked out burying itself in your gums, or splitting your tongue. Maybe it’s a needle, impaling itself straight through the roof of your mouth or a cheek. Or maybe it’s nothing that obvious. Maybe the realization that something is wrong comes moments after you’ve devoured that chocolate bar or cookie, the bitter aftertaste of rat poison hitting the back of your throat along with bile and the rest of the contents of your stomach as they rise up and out of your mouth.
Or maybe you’ll bite into plain, sweet chocolate or fresh fruit. That’s also part of the surprise. You really don’t know what you’ll get until you start eating.
B. ALWAYS RESPECT THE DEAD.
At ten o’clock, all the television sets in the neighborhood turn on, blaring to life right in the middle of that omnipresent cigarette commercial. The volume begins to rise of its own accord as your television starts to pick up interference, bursts of static squealing amidst the rising, screaming chorus of ”HAPPY HAPPY HALLOWEEN, HALLOWEEN, HALLOWEEN!”Breaking through the static, garbled and tinny, a child’s voice cries out.
“Can’t— I can’t hold them— back— Pumpkin— don’t blow the— out—”
And just as quickly as it cut in, the voice cuts back out. Commercial jingle notwithstanding, you’re alone once more. But not for long.
The doorbell rings. You can see them outside from your window: costumed children. Their masks and clothes are grimy and ragged from the muddy, slimy water they’ve been decomposing in for over a week. When they come to your door, squelching wetly as they shamble up the porch steps, they ring the bell or knock, as all polite children do. If you don’t let them in, they’ll find their own way, always by force. And once they find you, all they can gurgle in their reedy, waterlogged voices is, ”Trick or treat.”
From there, they attack.
With superhuman strength and speed, they tear and rip at anything they can get their hands on — clothing, skin, muscle, face, eyes. Being short and small, despite their strength, they're at a distinct disadvantage. They can even be thrown off, with some effort. But they don’t stay down for long, and attempting to hurt or mortally wound them only stalls them for a few moments, if that. How can you kill something that’s already dead?
Some in the neighborhood are willing to try and find out.
The only houses they seem to ignore completely are the ones with lit jack-o-lanterns still outside. They’ll loiter outside these houses, staring straight ahead at your door or window like they can see exactly where you are. But sooner or later, they’ll pass by and move onto the next house.
As long as the candles in carved pumpkins stay lit.
OOC INFO
Hello, and welcome to We're Still Here's first TDM! Here's a few things we'd like you to keep in mind:
The TDM is canon. You can treat this as the game's first real event and pick and choose what threads you would like your character to remember when they enter the game. For characters who app into the game, the events of the TDM will be treated like a dream. Upon awakening from it, characters will find that time has jumped ahead to December 1st. You may also feel free to use similar reality and/or time distortions to explain why the family members your characters have in the TDM aren't the same as the ones they may be assigned to in the game proper.
If you would like to have Halloween content in your relaxed housing prompts, please feel free! You are not beholden to follow our prompts exactly so long as the spirit is maintained.
There is no Network prompt listed, but feel free to wildcard one for your characters anyway.
Although the TDM is canon in the sense that characters are free to remember its events when they app into the game, it does not count as an official plot heavy event, meaning that characters will not receive regains from participating in it.
With regards to the dead trick-or-treaters: you may NPC them however you'd like, but keep the details we've listed in their prompt in mind. They are supernaturally fast and strong, will ignore houses as long as they have a lit pumpkin on the porch outside, and will try to enter each house the moment the candle in the pumpkin goes out. Additionally, they can't be killed, but they can be momentarily stalled by injuring them. By November 1st, 6AM, they will disappear the moment the sun comes out.
The TDM is canon. You can treat this as the game's first real event and pick and choose what threads you would like your character to remember when they enter the game. For characters who app into the game, the events of the TDM will be treated like a dream. Upon awakening from it, characters will find that time has jumped ahead to December 1st. You may also feel free to use similar reality and/or time distortions to explain why the family members your characters have in the TDM aren't the same as the ones they may be assigned to in the game proper.
If you would like to have Halloween content in your relaxed housing prompts, please feel free! You are not beholden to follow our prompts exactly so long as the spirit is maintained.
There is no Network prompt listed, but feel free to wildcard one for your characters anyway.
Although the TDM is canon in the sense that characters are free to remember its events when they app into the game, it does not count as an official plot heavy event, meaning that characters will not receive regains from participating in it.
With regards to the dead trick-or-treaters: you may NPC them however you'd like, but keep the details we've listed in their prompt in mind. They are supernaturally fast and strong, will ignore houses as long as they have a lit pumpkin on the porch outside, and will try to enter each house the moment the candle in the pumpkin goes out. Additionally, they can't be killed, but they can be momentarily stalled by injuring them. By November 1st, 6AM, they will disappear the moment the sun comes out.
James Moriarty | Fate/Grand Order
[Waking up in a completely different area is normal for a heroic Spirit - after all, one could be summoned at any time, to any era or place. Though, normally, there's a pull, a call.
Though perhaps that small, scared voice - that child's voice - was it...?
No matter what it is, Moriarty opens his eyes and sees an unfamiliar ceiling, feels the sensation of an unfamiliar bed under him. Getting up reveals another bed, and matching everything in this room to the point that it feels distinctly like overkill.
Getting up also reveals that he's a mere human - none of the supernatural strength and speed he's used to is allowed to him, and an experimental attempt to summon his Coffin ends with him just clenching empty air.
..Interesting.]
Variant A - Meeting the Missus/Mister
[It doesn't take long until Moriarty's steel-blue eyes fall on the other person in the opposite bed, the older man coming over to gently tap the other person on the shoulder - placing a bright, cheerful smile on his face and a tone just as chipper to match, if loud.]
GOOOOOD MORNING! IT'S TIME TO WAKE UP!
[Hopefully he doesn't get punched or kicked in the face, but like this, he can determine what he's working with much more easily.]
Varient B - A Morning Meeting
[A look over at the other bed finds it empty, but the rumpled state of the sheets clearly points to the other occupant having woken before him and going to explore the house.
Fair enough, honestly.
As he leaves the room and begins to explore the house, the pictures on the walls and everywhere catch his attention. And how could they not?
What they show is an impossibility, after all. A happy family, snapshots of a quiet suburban life...
All things he can't have, especially considering all of this was after his death.
Rifling through desks, he ends up finding a photo album - and taking a seat in the cheery kitchen table with a cup of tea at his side - he begins to flip through it, finding more pictures of others and of 'himself' at various ages, various stages of life and perfect happiness.
Someone who finds him in there after looking around or meeting the neighbors might even mistake him for one of the 'natives', with how calm he is about this situation - if not for the fact that the moment he notices a fellow 'victim', he puts on a wry smile.]
I suppose kidnappers are becoming much more polite and congenial these days, hm? Giving us an entire house and an assumed 'family.'
[He takes a sip of his tea.]
Good morning, 'dear.' I trust you slept well?
2 | GETTING TO KNOW THE NEIGHBORS
[1961, America - a town somewhere in california.
Well, that narrowed it down, but was worrying in other ways. This may be a Singularity, but...the fact that he was a mere mortal human with no appropriate knowledge for the era once more pointed to something much more sinister going on.
Still, the more important thing was to gather their bearings. For now, he could easily pretend to be a mere confused newcomer to the community, unaware of many things. Unlike some, he doesn't attempt to explain where he's from or insist he needs to leave - No, he merely watches and observes, putting on the charm whenever another friendly neihbor comes to their door.
And then he takes a single look at the Assorted Gelatin molds in his hands, shudders, and dumps it right in the garbage.]
Gelatin, of all things... I'll whip up something else for supper.
[He sounds like Gelatins have personally wronged him and his entire family, but the food he does make, while pretty stereotypical English fare...is at least good.]
3 | HALLOWEEN
VARIENT A - CHECK YOUR CANDY
[It's been a calm sort of month - though he's no closer to figuring out what exactly this place is, it at least hasn't been dangerous. Strange and disconcerting, yes - the people in the town often little more than automatons following set paths, as if it had been programmed into them - but beyond the obvious death of those 20 children and the driver, nothing terrible has happened.
But that can change - and it has changed.
As you look forward to having a treat, bringing whatever you dragged out of your bag towards your mouth on the street - there's the sound of a man clearing his throat as Moriarty steps forward, shaking his head at the treat.]
I don't mean to disturb you - but I thought you might want to know that eating that would be quite detrimental to your health. ...Ah, not in the normal 'candy is bad for you' way, either! Wahahaha!
[...]
I mean that it's most likely been poisoned.
[Though he won't stop you if you don't believe him and take a bite, anyway.]
VARIENT B - RESPECT THE DEAD
[He'd gotten some pumpkins as Halloween came closer - not because he believed in the holiday, but because it was what the 'natives' of this town were saying and gearing up for.
And, honestly - it was clear that you had to do your best to strive to 'remain in step' with the rest of the town, so he'd merely shrugged and gotten his hands on a few pumpkins to carve and set candles in as his 'responsibility as the man of the house.'
That, and it wasn't exactly unknown to him. England celebrated Halloween with aplomb even in the time he was alive, so he was well aware of the other connonations of the jack o lanturns and their candles -
A way to ward off evil spirits and the dead.
So when the shrieking of the TV comes forth - along with that child's voice - and the dead trick-or-treaters rise, he can only breathe a sigh of relief that the 'ward' of the lanturns seem to be in working order.
...That is, until he sees someone outside frantically attempting to get away or fight them off, and despite his urge to leave them to their fate...He flings the door open anyway.]
OVER HERE! QUICK! They don't go into houses that have the lanturns lit!
[...Trust the shady looking old man, or take your chances with the horde?]
Varient A
[She'll stop, holding the candy close to her mouth, giving the man warning her a curious look. Not really in her social circle
does Kiara even have a social circle probably not, but she's almost certain she's seen him around in Chaldea before.]Poisoned, really?
[A bit skeptical here, though she is moving her hand away from her mouth now. Though poison isn't so much a deterrent, it's just that talking about it is perhaps more intriguing than finding out for herself. Doesn't usually work that way.]
And how did you find that out? Personal experience, perhaps?
[She's kidding. Maybe not the best thing to joke about, but obviously he found out somehow. And look if he can laugh while warning people, the she can make light of it too.]
oh my god I love your username
[He taps a finger on his nose, once.]
I detected something that smelled like garlic - which is a common smell with Zinc Phosphide - rat poison, to put it simply. Most likely a trace amount, but enough to make one immediately vomit from the phosphine gas generated once it hits stomach acid.
[He looks for all the world like some sort of super genius....before he breaks into a grin.]
I also happened to spot a poor soul getting sick from the same kind of candy just a moment ago!
[So not JUST the smell, then - though he shrugs, easily, as if the outcome doesn't really matter to him.]
Of course, if you'd still wish to try your luck, I'll hardly stop you.
thank you! occasionally I have good username ideas
[She means it, but it's said in a way where she might not be so impressed to see such brilliant deduction and analysis put to work in other ways.
Though her expression changes from being impressed to looking slightly exasperated when he adds the eyewitness account to the evidence.]
I do hope you were able to assist them instead of leaving them to suffer the effects.
[They're probably fine since like he said it was just a trace amount, but still!]
no subject
Though when she says that...his expression falls, just the tinest little bitty bit.
And he coughs.]
...Well, it was an adult. With the small amounts incurred, most would be fine after vomiting, so I let them be.
Anyway! If they're so willing to poison their candy, then they may have slipped other things into it. I would suggest carefully inspecting anything you've gotten tonight, as a precaution.
no subject
I see.
[She doesn't seem to entirely approve of leaving them be, but she's not going to press the issue. Personally, she would've taken the time to make sure they were okay, small amount of poison or not. But not everyone is her, and thus it's probably for the best that he was the one who saw this happen and not her.]
I must admit I'm a little curious as to what other things they may have done. But it's better to be safe than sorry in this situation, I suppose. I'll be sure to check, and to see what the rest of my newfound family has brought home as well.
[Still not really sure what to make of that whole assigned family thing. It's weird. It'd be weird even if Kiara wasn't all Kiara about things, but because of that she finds it especially weird. Playing house isn't really something on her to-do list, or that she's ever really given much thought to.]
They might be just as unaware. So thank you for the warning...I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name?
[She's pretty sure it wasn't offered, but that's fine. She'll just wait to see what is offered while she throws the possibly tainted candy back into her bag.]
no subject
[Not that different from London, beyond the whole 'willing to poison / make gifts hazardous.' After all, that was done, but mostly on accident back in his day.
Ah, the late 1800's, where cocaine was legal.
Anyway, he smiles at her, still pleasantly and almost fatherly.]
James Moriarty - and if I'm not being too forward, I'll ask for your own.
no subject
[She thinks that's a good word for it, but she won't dwell on her thoughts about the community for too long, otherwise it'd just be weird given that introductions are going on.]
But it's hardly too forward. Since we're all stuck here, we should get to know one another. My name's Sessyoin Kiara, but if you'd prefer just to call me Kiara, that's fine.
[She doesn't entierly mind people being on a first name basis with her and there's quite a bit going on in Santa Rosita that seems more important to her than observing formalities. For example, Heroic Servants being stripped of their abilities, that's not exactly normal. Oh, and the whole poisoning thing, that too probably.]
I do hope we can get along. If things become more difficult, it would be nice to have someone as insightful as you around.
[Since she's pretty sure that will happen. Admittedly she isn't thinking of what'll happen later because why would anyone think that, but she assumes some sort of something is going to happen in the future.]
october 1st ; variant b
well, actually, it isn't necessarily this place's fault. but he has grown used to waking up in the fake bed of his fake house that's located in the fake town created by his subconscious that he knows that this place is different from the moment that he opens his eyes. there are no vines creeping through the cracks of his place, nor are there scattered pages around his bed.
...
his room has a baseball bat, at least. if this is just some other dream, then he can still defend himself. hopefully.
russell walks down the steps quietly, not paying attention to any of the pictures on the wall of the staircase that show him in a baseball uniform with an older man and woman. with the bat to his side, he makes his way to the kitchen--
to be greeted by an older man? a man that says weird things, too. kidnapped? family? what is he talking about? this has to be a dream. maybe he failed the experiment, or maybe he just died from all of those 'side effects' walter had mentioned.
either way, it doesn't matter. russell doesn't say anything, not just yet. he stares up at the older man with a mix of exhaustion, anger, and fear.
in his hand, he grips the baseball bat tighter. ]
no subject
Instead, what draws his attention is how thin the boy is - even for someone who he assumes is 12 years of age, it's hard not to notice how the clothes he's in are sagging on his frame.]
...If you'll take a seat, I'll see what food they've given us and make you breakfast.
[It must be Ritsuka's influence, this feeling of wanting to provide for the boy. He IS Evil, but....
..Well. Even back in London, he often found himself pitying the poor, malnourished children of the slums.]
no subject
he doesn't need someone to cook him breakfast, he can cook it himself--well, it's not like cereal or a sandwich were actually cooking. part of him wants to say that, too, to this adult that he cannot trust, but...he can't bring himself to. ]
...Okay.
[ he's not moving away from the entrance though. and he's not letting go of his bat just yet. but at least now the anger and fear have subsided to a mild wariness, his gaze not meeting with moriarty's for more than a second. ]
no subject
And it didn't look like he was going to have his head bashed in by that bat, so long as he didn't make any sudden movement towards the boy.
So he got up, heading towards the stove and rummaging through the cabinets for a frying pan.]
What kind of eggs do you want? Scrambled, boiled, or pan-fried?
[Hope Russell is in the mood for an English Breakfast.]
no subject
[ he's never had anyone cook him eggs before. his parents would never spend their time on such a thing for him. no one would.
the question is: why this man? ]
Whatever's...um...the least trouble for you.
no subject
Scrambled, then.
[Easier to just cook everything instead of risking on making the yolks wrong.
He starts cooking in silence, heating the skillet and cracking open the eggs into a bowl and whisking them with a fork. Pouring the resulting mixture into the pan, pushing it to the side so he could also cook sausages and toast at the same time.
The smells of food rise in the air, as he begins to hum the line of some old tune, calm as could be.
If one looked in, they most likely would have thought it was a father or a grandfather cooking for his son, instead of a stranger cooking for another stranger in a situation where they both just woke up in this house.]
no subject
Honestly they doesn't mind either way, pants are just more pratical.]
Wonderfully, "darling". The tea smells lovely, by the way.
[they even sniff the air like a hound when they say it]
no subject
And honestly, he doesn't mind either way. Moriarty merely gives a pleased smile, motioning to the cabinet holding cups and the box on the counter holding tea packets.]
I'm pleased to hear you've finally opened your eyes to my tea brewing talents after all these years of faithful matrimony.
[He can't help but chuckle, before clearing his throat.]
Though I will regret to inform your that while it smells lovely, the brew itself leaves something to be desired.
[Fucking lipton, man. Watery as hell until you get the temp right, and if you go over it's way too bitter. No I'm not speaking from experience shh]
no subject
[even if Moriarty didn't mean it as a leaf pun, his "wife" is taking it as one. Hard to say how they feel about it though, since they don't seem very expressive.
Except the eyes. The eyes are clearly laughing, unlike the natives]
no subject
He laughs again, not worried in the slightest about the lack of expressions. Honestly, that sort of thing was easy enough to sort out, when you looked at the eyes.]
Just a bit of morning humor, 'dear!'
[They are acting like people on a goddamn sitcom what the fuck is this]
Will you take a cup and sit, or should I expect a meal as well?
1st- B
Soon enough a gremlin is glaring at him, fists on her hips. She's small- 10 years old tops and likely younger. And not wearing shoes]
So you are the one this place seems to think is my father. Hmmpth!! You look more like a grandfather than anything else!
3-b
She made a mad dash towards Moriarty, popping off a few more shots behind her. ]
Sorry for intrudiiiiing!