i know it's just a number but you're the eighth wonder [ OPEN MINGLE ]

[postictal]

Who: Tim and EVERYBODY WHO WANTS IN ON THIS CAUSE IT A MINGLE
What: Nail-painting. Destressing. We have earned something Nice for ourselves.
When: February 12th
Where: Just outside the Storyteller's Temple
Warnings: Probably nothing of note? Will add if needed.



There's a man sitting cross-legged outside the Storyteller's Temple, general hub of interaction that it seems to be turning into. He still looks like shit, granted, his face a colorful patchwork of bruising and a fresh bandage slapped around his middle, but that hasn't stopped him from making the best of things. A few vials of some various colorful fluids might not be familiar to everyone here, but after everything? Screw it, thinks Tim. They've deserved a break. He deserves a break. The kids here, especially, deserve a break. It's time to celebrate the fact that they are no longer in danger of freezing in the dark and living out the remainder of their days in a bleak, sunless existence.

And he liked colors, as a kid. In the blank white walls of a hospital, where everything was drained of variation and bleached white and left bone-blank, the occasional bursts of color allowed in packages of crayons and colored pencils at art time were treasures. They stopped giving him crayons after he drew the man in his room one too many times, a tall black shadow in the back of every drawing that had the doctors exchanging looks with tightened jaws and the clearing of throats that too clearly spoke to their disapproval.

It dogged him, even once he stepped out of those empty walls, his wardrobe as consistently drab and dull and monochrome as his life. It dogged him with featureless rooms and

Fuck that.

Fuck that especially, because it means that kids like Ren grew up without colors in their lives, and it means that they've had precious few simple little pleasures in the past month, and it means that they are all owed a goddamn break. And if he's bound to be a freak no matter what he does, he may as well be one with a spot of color or two.

So today, to celebrate? We're painting nails.

Fuck it. We're painting nails.

It's safe to say that Tim's new at this, particularly when he only has one good hand at the moment, but he'll still seem quite open to sharing with whoever happens along - especially if you're a kid.

[ooc: yes this is a mingle for painting some nails feel free to top-level all over]

Comments

[hellawrath]

Unfortunately Lup has yet to meet a challenge she had to back down from, so this is what we have to deal with now. Long ears elegantly folded back, long nose up in the air, she glances down at them with every bit of punchable indifference she's seen in the faces of all the rich stuck up fucks she's ever robbed.

"My apologies for your offense, but you are so mistaken, verily. Pardon my ignorance in this matter but are you trying to uh, to assert that Talking Like This is-- that I am infringing upon a heritage exclusive to, to dramatic tiny humans?" Though the sharp lines of her ears and expression inevitably soften at their request.

"Oh, naturally," she grants and her hand floats gracefully over to their leg.

[achievementhunter]

She could almost pass as a queen- almost. Chara has, admittedly, only met two in their life (one of which was hellbent on destroying them and everything they held dear, but details), and neither of them had been in the habit of saying uh.

"On the contrary, it would be a grave imposition on my part to take offense at one who speaks in such mannerisms- if said person was not one I know quite as well as yourself." Shifting closer, they lean over Lup's hand, very carefully dabbing golden polish on her index's nail.

"But only if I get to, you know, speak like this? Not like I'm hella savvy with this weird elf speak but like, how hard can it be, my fella?"

Very hard. Their accent? Terrible.

[hellawrath]

Yes hello is there an emergency line operator here because we just witnessed a fucking murder. Holy shit. How do they even-- how are they so bad at this?? Has she taught them nothing? But also, she's taught them something, apparently? It's, words, coming out of their mouth, in a kind of terrible but still unmistakable facsimile of her own familial jargon and she's never felt so simultaneously scandalized and delighted.

It's just so bad tho.

The only reason she's not straight up Disintegrating from laughter right now is how utterly adorably careful they're being with her nails. She can't allow herself to ruin that. The feat of keeping her composure here is like, up there with not going lich crazy? But she's doing it, only staring like she just heard the most magnificent fart for a little bit before verbally catching up.

"My most esteemed associate! I deem your valued uh, your proposal as quite equitable to the, to the manner of our association and would be delighted, therefo-ho-re, to offer some much needed feedback on your attempt at emulating the speech of my fore-elves."

Her voice is beginning to reach a certain deals warlock's level of absurdity. Somebody stop this.

[achievementhunter]

There is, in fact, an ESO here? And she's disconnecting the call because you are a nuisance.

If Chara really, truly wanted to, they're certain they could do better. Hit every pitch and tone perfectly, until they could fool everyone around them into believing they have some vague relation to Lup.

As it is they just sound like American Magic Brian.

Lup actually pulls a snort from them; unrestrained and entirely too amused.

"Not a chance in hell, babe. This here is one hundred percent organic fab-u-ous. No concrit on, on perfection?"




I see two jokers standing at the edge of the cauldron to dork.