lifeaftr | CLOTHING ADVENTURES

CLOTHING ADVENTURES

Who: Anyone! Everyone!
What: Clothes were requested. Clothes are now granted.
When: morning of the 22nd initially
Where: meet me at the room that's literally filled to the brim with clothing in 15 minutes
Warnings: It's just clothes, what could possibly go wrong!
Notes: Everyone gets free clothes whether they participated in the actual request or not. CLOTHES FOR THE ENTIRE ISLAND.

There's a room in the Storyteller's temple; it was once empty, and now it's...not. It is, in fact, full of clothing of all sorts, to the point that it might be slightly difficult to find exactly what you're looking for.

Oh well. It's there now, no takebacks.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Denny?

[Because yes, Carolina has been told about it.]

How giant of a spider are we talking about?

Yeah. Uh...that. [He manages to actually avoid saying it, which is nice.]

About person-sized? I guess she's pretty good at weaving since she's, uh...literally a giant spider.

[Somehow... She was expecting dinosaur size or something. Not that person sized isn't big for a spider, but after talking rabbits, why not a spider that can step on humans and kill them?

Not that she wants that.]

But she talks? Or does she weave her messages?

[There better not be a pig involved.]

No, she...she talks. She's like anyone else, just...you know, a spider. Spider-shaped. Everyone acts like it's not that weird, so I guess it's not.

[There are just...strange sights around here. Strange things that you see, and you kind of adjust and get used to shrugging them off, because they might be weird but that doesn't make them bad, and he has learned to prioritize bad over that which is simply strange.]

Weird went out the window a while ago.

[But, she supposes it's just another thing to add to the list. It's not like she would freak out and run off screaming, or worse, try to kill it. At least not right off the bat.]

And I'm starting to think it is all relative here. Not... that saying that makes it click just yet in my brain.

Flying elevators, flowers that make you sick, and dead agents walking? [Wash huffs, a skeptical huh that doesn't have the same tenor as when he does it behind the cover of his helmet.]

I kind of gave up drawing arbitrary lines my first month here.

I don't know...

[That seemingly contemplative tone to her voice as her eyes flick up again. No matter what else there was, she knew that Wash has that capacity for compassion.]

You'd done rather well with the Reds and Blues before I came charging in to the picture. If anyone can roll with these punches, I'd probably place my money on you.

Well, okay, they don't count. They're all human. Mostly.

[Lopez, uh, isn't, but that doesn't really matter. He spends most of his time occupying the requisite "roll your eyes at all this fucking absurdity" position on Red Team.]

Uh huh. I'd likely have shot them on the spot...

[Possibly. She won't rule it out anyway. Somedays, she still debates it, but only jokingly. It's more fun to mess around with them considering she's got enough of a reputation that it mostly keeps them in line. They'd complimented her singing, after all, and she's horrible at that.]

Not usually an option here, anyway.

[Or rather, it seems like a waste of precious ammunition, which is considerably more of a concern for Wash. He's not Carolina; his C.Q.C. was never all that advanced or capable, and while he can hold his own in a fight of that magnitude, he's a far better marksman than he is a martial artist.]

[It wouldn't be the possible lack of ammo that would stop her. She's made due before. Don't need a gun in her hand to land a punch or a kick. It isn't that they aren't here either. They aren't. Even if they were, she wouldn't, not now.]

Even if it were...

[She wouldn't.]

I've learned it's more amusing to watch them squirm anyway.

[He grins, briefly, for the moment forgetting that he doesn't have the shield of a visor to block off his expression when it pinches. Drops, closing into solemnity.]

...you ever miss them?

[Swear to god, he never thought he would. Never would've thought any of it, but he never planned on living this long, anyway.]

[It isn't missed, as fleeting as it is. It makes him look a little younger, a little more like the weight of the world doesn't always rest on their shoulders. Usually of their own doing, because of what they've done.

That low rumble in her chest, as close to a laugh as she's going to give, glancing off.]

Didn't think I would, but, it's quiet without them, you know?

[She'd missed it, all of it, what she used to have. It's not the same, but it ever will be. They aren't a replacement for what she's lost, but something new.]

Doesn't feel right. Not having some morons to micromanage all hours of the day.

[The most absurdly lucky and unexpectedly hypercompetent morons in existence, to the point where Wash privately thinks he might have become a little superfluous at this point. They can handle themselves well enough without him.]

[Not sure where that leaves him.]

[They were indeed morons, but they were their morons. Nakedness. Fires. Fights over stupid trivial things. Perverted jokes. Every day is something new, and as much as it drives her up the walls some days, she really wouldn't have it any other way.

Not that she'll admit it to their faces.]

Leaves you with quite a bit of spare time... Although I think with this place, we're going to have enough on our plates.

You're not wrong there. I hear the next island that shows up has animals, so I can't wait for something else to try and eat us alive.

[It better not be fucking dinosaurs. He's just putting that out there now. He doesn't care what it is or how many teeth it has or how much it personally would like to kill him, as long as it isn't dinosaurs.]

So a typical Thursday...

[That wry expression. Easy isn't really something that their lives have tended to be. Their own choices and consequences from all actions will always be there with them. Dinosaurs at least would be something that Carolina does have experience with. Not that she's going to try to pull a Caboose on them...]

We'll make it work, Wash, just like we'll make these clothes work.

I know. It's not...us I'm worried about.

[There are a lot of people here. A lot of people that he can't help but feel, tangentially, responsible for, because he's a soldier and that's a soldier's job - to keep an eye out for civilians. That's why you agree to fight. You keep the frontlines so no one else has to live the horror of seeing their planet glassed.]

[There is that light stillness to her, although that sharpness remains within her green eyes as their depths settle on him, more focused. She doesn't need to be a mind reader, can guess where his own mind goes with that.

The good guys.

She'd once thought that was exactly what they were, had never questioned it too deeply. Follow orders, get the objective, make it back. It had seemed easy enough, simple enough, just soldiers doing what soldiers were trained to do.

Yet her gaze is cast away, moving across those who have come here in search of attire as well.]

The people here do seem to be varied.

Feels too much like Chorus.

[Too many people who didn't agree to this, who didn't want to be ensnared in a conflict, and too many of them are painfully...young. But even on Chorus, none of them were this young.]

There's kids here, Carolina.

By themselves.

[Half statement, half question.

Not that it is any better if they are here with a parent or a guardian, but at least it would be someone to look out for the interests, to ensure that they didn't slip through the cracks.]

You have to wonder what they were thinking.

[Those who brought them here.]

I hope they've got enough self-reflection to think about what they've done.

[He can't argue with the fact that people like him ended up here; he's inextricably drawn into adventure after adventure despite his best efforts. But when it's kids, it's - it's always different.]

[They didn't ask for this.]

Depends what they're really like.

[Because they just might not care, ever.

Her mind turns to Sharkface, pausing there, as she thinks about the people who end up here. If he ever showed up... She'd given him chances to stop, not wanting to hurt him, let alone kill him, yet it hadn't mattered in the end. He had been driven, just like she had once been, and he hadn't cared.

Turning her eyes again, she seeks out faces. In some ways, it's hard to guess ages. She's mid-thirties but at times feels like she's double that.]

I take it they're more or less in the same boat we are?

[Those who are younger...]

I guess you could say that. At least one of them knows how to operate military-grade explosives, so that's where we are now.

[Which, while a fundamentally distressing aside, is not one he took any time to grapple with; it hadn't been necessary in the moment, and getting upset over it wasn't going to accomplish anything.]

[Now, though.]

[How many children here know how to fight? How many carry weapons? How many have already learned to attack first, and ask questions later?]

[ . . . ]

A skill they learned where they came from?

[Or here? Although here seems less likely, given the state of affairs. Which... Neither is the proper answer, but Carolina has to wonder at a world where kids have access to military-grade explosives, let alone someone to teach them.

Or least she hopes it was taught and not by trial and error. That could well be worse. Not that any of the situations are better than the other. Yet she shakes her head.]

Have to wonder where these kids come from.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject