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peckenpaugh2019-10-02 01:36 pm
peckishmods) wrote in peckenpaugh2019-10-02 01:36 pm
Tybalt has selected himself a large piece of plastic. Just to have the edge. Gotta maximize those aerodynamics. He tosses it down at the edge of the hill, and perches on the edge. He takes a moment to appreciate Laszlo's handiwork and chortles at the smoke cloud in the distance. "Show me." He sits at the edge of the sled, and without much warning, pushes his way down, "At the bottom."
This is, to be fair, mostly so that he doesn't give Laszlo the chance to cheat first.
This is, to be fair, mostly so that he doesn't give Laszlo the chance to cheat first.
A Quackenbush knows that the best way to 'help' is by staying out of the way. Or they should. Maybe Hawthorne had momentarily forgotten about that inconvenient little curse when he agreed to help sweep pathways after dinner.
Or maybe he's just feigning ignorance about it.
Anyway, the moment he decides to Ventus cottonwood fluff off the path instead of just Vanishing small chunks of it, the whole mess abruptly twists in the air and deposits itself in the face of an approaching student.
"Oh," says Hawthorne, with far less surprise than someone who's forgotten they have a Bad Luck Curse should have. "Sorry. Good source of fiber, at least."
Or maybe he's just feigning ignorance about it.
Anyway, the moment he decides to Ventus cottonwood fluff off the path instead of just Vanishing small chunks of it, the whole mess abruptly twists in the air and deposits itself in the face of an approaching student.
"Oh," says Hawthorne, with far less surprise than someone who's forgotten they have a Bad Luck Curse should have. "Sorry. Good source of fiber, at least."
As soon as Eddy's board hits the ground, so does Tybalt's. He has the advantage of going down the hill on his stomach, long limbs tucked into himself. He salutes back, and pushes off, laughing.
It's a short-lived laugh.
The trouble is. This looks like snow, but it isn't. There's no slippery ice or packed snow to aid them here, and it's exactly like trying to slide down a hill of cotton balls. Tybalt's weight immediately presses the board into the hard ground, jolting his chin into the earth. He wrinkles his nose, and tries to use his arms to propel him forward. A race is a race, after all, even if it's not quite what he wanted.
It's a short-lived laugh.
The trouble is. This looks like snow, but it isn't. There's no slippery ice or packed snow to aid them here, and it's exactly like trying to slide down a hill of cotton balls. Tybalt's weight immediately presses the board into the hard ground, jolting his chin into the earth. He wrinkles his nose, and tries to use his arms to propel him forward. A race is a race, after all, even if it's not quite what he wanted.
Laszlo has a warning ready. I could ruin it. I could ruin your game. I could destroy— But it's too late. He sees that Tybalt is trying to cheat, and he respects it. It's smart, if he wants to win. Which Tybalt always does. And therefore, Laszlo cannot allow it easily.
So when Laszlo spots it, they're suddenly careening down the hill at the same time. He feels calm for the first second or so, and then, unexpectedly, the laughter comes. He's not sure who reached the bottom first, because he hits something and is thrown violently off his vehicle into a pile of the flammable fluff. It barely softens the blow, but all that can be heard is the odd, awkward giggles. A strange, uncomfortable noise, but also a happy one.
So when Laszlo spots it, they're suddenly careening down the hill at the same time. He feels calm for the first second or so, and then, unexpectedly, the laughter comes. He's not sure who reached the bottom first, because he hits something and is thrown violently off his vehicle into a pile of the flammable fluff. It barely softens the blow, but all that can be heard is the odd, awkward giggles. A strange, uncomfortable noise, but also a happy one.
Edited 2019-10-03 03:11 (UTC)
The thing about being part Veela is that you feel perfect most of the time. Valkyrie can eat whatever she wants, she can forget to wash her face, she can neglect a run or two, and she'll still feel perfect. Beautiful, healthy, fit. What, like, is it hard?
Allergies are another thing. She feels like her head is full of cotton and she hasn't slept properly in days. None of these potions are helping, and in a moment of totally normal understandable weakness she violently throws the bottle against a wall. It shatters, leaving streaks of purple liquid and shattered glass all over the wall of the study room. She screams, too. A not angry, soooooo understandable kind of scream.
Allergies are another thing. She feels like her head is full of cotton and she hasn't slept properly in days. None of these potions are helping, and in a moment of totally normal understandable weakness she violently throws the bottle against a wall. It shatters, leaving streaks of purple liquid and shattered glass all over the wall of the study room. She screams, too. A not angry, soooooo understandable kind of scream.
Edited 2019-10-03 02:56 (UTC)
The universe has graced Pax with no allergic reaction to this nightmare, so she's going to take advantage of this - near the Central Classrooms, she's playing like it's snow. There are 'snow angels' scattered about that are mutated by even the passing of another student, and currently she's trying to make a snowman. It's pretty futile, but she's managing to get at least some density to a tiny ball of fluff after a considerable amount of work. This is going to be the smallest snowman ever.
"Hey!" She calls out without even looking. "Help me out!"
"Hey!" She calls out without even looking. "Help me out!"
Edited 2019-10-03 02:53 (UTC)
They come to stand together, him and Oliver. They observe the chaos, or at least Laszlo does. He's not sure what's going on in Oliver's mind. He seems to inscrutable. But recently, he was given advice. Advice on how to talk to Oliver. He takes a deep breath, and suddenly turns to face him. There is gravity in his face and his voice. The light catches on his glasses.
"Oliver."
"Oliver."
One of Eddy's better ideas, this is absolutely not. With only himself to worry about, Tybalt's got the aerodynamic advantage, even if physics never meant for this challenge to be undertaken. While Tybalt attempts to land-swim, Eddy maneuvers himself so he's taking the descent backwards, kicking against the hill to gain speed and overcome each new bump.
This is likely now an even worse idea as he can no longer see what he's about to run into, but it's also about the most thrill to be had with two feet (kind of sort of) on the ground. Even if they both look immensely uncool right now.
"Best two out of three," he yells over to Tybalt as he stays roughly neck andneck butt with him. Maybe a joke. Maybe not. Unclear.
This is likely now an even worse idea as he can no longer see what he's about to run into, but it's also about the most thrill to be had with two feet (kind of sort of) on the ground. Even if they both look immensely uncool right now.
"Best two out of three," he yells over to Tybalt as he stays roughly neck and
HI. I'm late to this party because I was busy at work and then I was doing new character intro stuff and icons all night.
BUT. If anyone would like to do something here with Merlin, Zadie, or Aristotle, let me know! I'm about to go to bed because I have an early meeting tomorrow, but I'd like to come back to this IC/OOC. ♥
Is it Friday yet?
Also also Character H for Merlin, please?
BUT. If anyone would like to do something here with Merlin, Zadie, or Aristotle, let me know! I'm about to go to bed because I have an early meeting tomorrow, but I'd like to come back to this IC/OOC. ♥
Is it Friday yet?
Also also Character H for Merlin, please?
Tybalt's journey down the hill is less a slide, more an inelegant tumble during which he eventually just tucks the plastic around himself as a shield, and rolls through the cottony fluff to the bottom. Where he can't even see Laszlo at first, it's still falling so thick. But there's laughter a moment later, and Tybalt smiles in response. He doesn't hear Laszlo laughing very often, so this feels like a win, even though he's got no idea who reached the ground at the same time.
"So there's some issues." He admits, sitting up with his hair full of cotton. He sneezes a pieces of fluff away,as punctuation.
"So there's some issues." He admits, sitting up with his hair full of cotton. He sneezes a pieces of fluff away,as punctuation.
"Valley baybee." That tongue click and drawled purr are unmistakably Jupiter Quigley. She's is here to make things worse all better, strolling up from behind with her wand drawn. Ever the Thorntrail at heart, despite her best efforts to appear otherwise, she Transfigures the shattered glass into something a little less dangerously messy: a simple glass vial that Jupiter scoops up off the ground. She leaves the mess for anyone else to clean up — she ain't a maid.
Jupiter slides smoothly into the seat next to Valkyrie. There are white fuzzy cottonwood seeds in her wild brown hair and she's beaming despite the sour look on her friend's face. "Hit a roadblock in your studies?" Jup asks, though she also holds out a travel pack of tissues she'd nabbed from Greatheart earlier in the day.
Jupiter slides smoothly into the seat next to Valkyrie. There are white fuzzy cottonwood seeds in her wild brown hair and she's beaming despite the sour look on her friend's face. "Hit a roadblock in your studies?" Jup asks, though she also holds out a travel pack of tissues she'd nabbed from Greatheart earlier in the day.
It takes a moment or so before Laszlo emerges, cottonseed in his hair, dazed and delighted. In this brief moment, he and Tybalt look alarmingly similar. There's a ghost of a smile on Laszlo's face, but it hides itself away as soon as he feels Tybalt's eyes on him. He sinks a little further into the fluff, as though it might disguise the remaining laughs he wishes he could smother.
"They won't let you keep the ride," he warns. There's a bit of cotton on the tip of his big nose that he hasn't noticed. "What do you want to change? Quick."
"They won't let you keep the ride," he warns. There's a bit of cotton on the tip of his big nose that he hasn't noticed. "What do you want to change? Quick."
Cool is a matter of perspective. But according to literally anyone, he doesn't look cool. It would be easier to just fling himself to the bottom of the hill, no sled at all, but that would hurt, and besides. He wouldn't get to laugh at Eddy and Mickey's way down.
"What, scared you're gonna lose this one?" He taunts back. Neither of them are winning. He sits back up on the board, and begins scooting his way down, heels digging into the earth instead of his hands. This is a terrible idea, and he's getting a mouthful of cottonwood, but it's all in the name of momentum.
"What, scared you're gonna lose this one?" He taunts back. Neither of them are winning. He sits back up on the board, and begins scooting his way down, heels digging into the earth instead of his hands. This is a terrible idea, and he's getting a mouthful of cottonwood, but it's all in the name of momentum.
Armani is officially Merlin's responsibility.
Godspeed, kids.
Valkyrie crumples, just a bit. It used to be so easy to be open with Jupiter, but she's not a Quodpot player anymore. She's not her captain. Is she even her fried? They're definitely not proper rivals. This confusion might be the worst, because Val knows there's no real reason to be mad.
Then again, she knows what the actual word for this feeling is. It's just that she'll never say it out loud.
She takes the tissue anyway and sniffles into it. Her golden curls have fallen over her face, hiding most of it. "No," she objects sullenly. "I feel sick from all these horny trees."
Then again, she knows what the actual word for this feeling is. It's just that she'll never say it out loud.
She takes the tissue anyway and sniffles into it. Her golden curls have fallen over her face, hiding most of it. "No," she objects sullenly. "I feel sick from all these horny trees."
Edited 2019-10-03 15:48 (UTC)
"They don't even know about it yet," he protests, but Laszlo's right. This is probably, technically, against at least three rules, but it's not like anything here is wrong. Just like it's not wrong to leave that fuzz on his roommate's face. Because it's funny.
The question, though, reminds him he's in the presence of a much larger brain than his own. The experience does need enhancing. They're magic, maybe it's possible. "The cotton needs to act more like snow." He spits out, quick as commanded. "Can't really slide down when it just squishes in."
The question, though, reminds him he's in the presence of a much larger brain than his own. The experience does need enhancing. They're magic, maybe it's possible. "The cotton needs to act more like snow." He spits out, quick as commanded. "Can't really slide down when it just squishes in."
"I can fix that. Maybe. Probably. If you wanted." It's a whisper, but Laszlo seems convinced. He's ready to try if someone gives him an excuse. One of his hands has found the hem of Tybalt's sleeve, and the fire in his eyes is asking for permission it should probably not be granted. Results will definitely be mixed.
Unfortunately, Tybalt has never done anything but stoke the fire in anyone's eyes. Recognizing possible danger, his mouth curls into a little smirk, and his opposite hand meets Laszlo's in a small shake and a terrifying contract. "Go for it." He says, solemn.
Dressing like an idol with mask, cap, and sunglasses? Fashionable, but largely unhelpful with this amount of pollen assaulting his sinuses. But it at least hides his dripping nose and swollen eyes so he can preserve some dignity. (When he's not making very wet, very gross, very miserable sounds.)
Thorntrail isn't exactly the best spot to be, but it's where he's headed. The plan is to chug a potion, maybe pop some benadryl, and sleep it off. If he dies, he dies.
Except he can't see well enough to even know if he's going the right way. Soon, it doesn't matter because he's stopped by plowing into a roadblock named Merlin Pletcher. He tries to apologize, but it comes out as a wheeze and a hacking cough. "Sso-HUHAHUHHHH."
Thorntrail isn't exactly the best spot to be, but it's where he's headed. The plan is to chug a potion, maybe pop some benadryl, and sleep it off. If he dies, he dies.
Except he can't see well enough to even know if he's going the right way. Soon, it doesn't matter because he's stopped by plowing into a roadblock named Merlin Pletcher. He tries to apologize, but it comes out as a wheeze and a hacking cough. "Sso-HUHAHUHHHH."
Mostly identifiable by his stature at the moment, the Merlin-shaped roadblock is obscured by an over-sized hoodie with the hood up, a cap, and a face mask but looks at Armani with bewilderment visible in his dark eyes. Luckily, he doesn't suffer from allergies and this bizarre phenomenon is more curious and inconvenient for him than actually detrimental. Being outside to check this out might not be comfortable, but it isn't going to kill him. He's not so sure the same can be said about Armani.
"It's fine," he murmurs absently, shaking his head and giving the younger boy a look that's vaguely judgmental and vaguely concerned, "What're you doing out here?"
"It's fine," he murmurs absently, shaking his head and giving the younger boy a look that's vaguely judgmental and vaguely concerned, "What're you doing out here?"
Edited (Good morning this subject line is killing me. ) 2019-10-03 11:13 (UTC)
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