Subject: “When you put it that way…
Author:
Posted on: 2018-11-03 01:11:36 UTC
“I guess the ‘Happy’ in ‘Happy Halloween’ isn’t appropriate?” Chelsea said, shrugging. “I dunno, it’s not like we’re celebrating death or dying, right?”
The annual PPC Halloween party was slowly ramping up. In the back, tables were piled high with candies, cakes, and more substantial food for those feeling responsible; the punch gave off an eerie green glow. There was an array of tables filling about half the room, at which several agents were sitting and talking. Technician Tomash had just finished setting up the jack-o-lantern speakers, which had been dug out of a closet somewhere for the occasion, and was now off hiding in a corner somewhere.
"So, what do you think?" The Cybertronian asked his companion. Several panels of grey-painted cardboard were strapped to the vending machine, giving him the vague appearance of a Gameboy. His human partner was wearing a blue coat with white fur trim along its hood and currently munching on a hot dog. He swallowed it and pulled down his skull mask.
"Yeah it ain't bad. How's mine?"
"You made that out of stuff you had lying around, at least I had to actually fabricate something."
"Perhaps, but being lazy is consistent with the character I am portraying, so there's really no bones about it."
The Cybertronian blinked a few times. "Did...you just...".
"Anyways." The human in the last minute costume started to head into the party. "There's no need for us to be a couple of lazy bones. We're gonna have a good time."
Tom wandered over. "I can get that. This one 'ere didn't take much either." He indicated his cloak. "Only problem is it still probably shows too much face..."
He shook himself. "Where are my manners? I'm Tom Andrews, DF. You two are...?"
She burst through the doors and sashayed her way toward the crowd, grinning, fully expecting the entire room to stop and stare... only to realize about five steps in that her partner was not beside her. What the hell? She turned around and saw that he was still in the doorway, standing stock-still. With an aggravated growl, she stalked back toward him.
"Hey!" she hissed. "What gives?"
"This was a bad idea," said Derik, shaking his head. "I don't know why I ever thought this was a good idea."
Gall was confused. "What, the party?" She thought he'd been looking forward to it.
"No, no. This." His gesture included the two of them and what they were wearing—or, largely, not wearing.
His costume was fine. He was Jason Momoa's Aquaman. He didn't have the beard, but he had brushed some temporary gold highlights into his hair, which was almost the right length, and he had quite enjoyed letting Gall stencil the intricate, Polynesian-inspired fake tattoos all over his upper body. His only actual clothing at the moment was a pair of low-cut dark green leather pants. That was all fine on its own.
It was Gall's costume that made the whole thing a terrible, crass joke. It had been funny when they were planning it in the response center, but now, in public...
She wasn't wearing much on top herself, just a bandeau with a pair of pink seashells fitted to her breasts. Below, sparkling green leggings with frilly bits suggestive of fins floating around her calves. (She hadn't for one moment considered an actual dress.) She'd even wetted her hair and brushed it out until it was relatively smooth and reached to her upper back.
None of this did a single thing to hide the unmistakable bulge of her belly.
As far as she was concerned, that was the point. It was the coup de grace of the joke. Also, she was thrilled about her pregnancy, and as she'd entered her fourth month, she'd gotten a surge of energy that made her more irrepressible than ever. She was excited. She was proud. She glowed. She wanted everyone to notice.
Derik was excited and proud, too, sometimes. Mostly, and at this particular moment, he was terrified.
"Well, you can't back out now," Gall said. "Not after all the work I put in!"
He really, really wished he could, but she was right. As much as he wanted to run away, doing so would be at least as shameful as whatever attention was about to come his way.
But perhaps there was a middle road. "I'm not backing out," he said, and even took a step into the room to prove it, letting the doors close behind him. "Do you want anything? Food? Water?"
She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion, but biology got the better of her. She tilted her head. "You know what's weird? Remember those horrible fried green goo things from last year?"
"Yes?" He wasn't actually sure he did; a lot of the latter half of last year's party was fuzzy.
"I could so demolish a plate of those right now."
Derik smiled. "I'll see if they're there." He turned to abscond.
"Ooh, and maybe if there's haggis? That's a scary Halloweenish food, right?"
He had to look back. "Really?"
Gall scowled and put her hands on her befrilled hips. "Don't you dare judge my cravings."
"Never!" He put up his hands, don't shoot, and made his escape. If he could just set her up with some snacks and then avoid her the rest of the evening, maybe everything would be fine...
(( To the people who didn't know my secret plans: Surprise! This is a thing that is happening and was never not a thing that was going to happen.
(( If he doesn't run into anyone else first, I'll send Derik over to Ix and Charlotte's thread with the food table. Due to conflicting canonicity and the convenient excuse that he was kinda blitzed, he doesn't really remember anything that happened with Ix, so that should be interesting. ∗eg∗ ))
((Oh, this is going to be fun.))
Ix had finally started to relax when they made it to the food table without anyone staring. Well, there had been a bit of staring, but when one of the stare-ers had called out "Nice costumes!", she grinned and actually called back "Thank you!"
"You seem like you're enjoying yourself," Charlotte remarked.
Ix touched her mask, shrugging. "It's just... easier like this," she said. "I don't have to worry about people asking awkward questions, like—"
"Oh my gosh look at you two!" Charlotte said when something green and glittery caught her notice from the corner of her eye. And then her mouth fell open when she properly took in Gall's appearance.
Ix, for her part, froze with a Battenberg cake halfway to her mouth, staring at Derik like a deer caught in the headlights.
... to realize that the vaguely familiar woman's comment was directed at him, and then another to realize Gall had come after him. Because of course she had. He stifled a groan, gave a weak (not to say watery) smile, and raised a hand in acknowledgement, then gave his entire attention to piling a plate with anything that met his standards of nutritional value. Cravings or not, that was his child in there, and he was feeding it as well as he could.
Gall, meanwhile, was grinning fit to bust at the reaction. "Hey, thanks! You're, uh..." She snapped her fingers a few times, thinking. "What's her face... Buttercup? And the Dread Pirate Westley, right?"
Charlotte curtseyed neatly, beaming from ear to ear. "Though nobody would really fear the Dread Pirate Westley. The Dread Pirate Roberts, on the other hand..."
"It's fine, Lottie," Ix said quietly. "Don't worry about it—"
"I'm not worrying, I'm just making small talk," Charlotte protested. "You guys were Green Lantern and Hawkwoman last year, right?"
Gall squinted at the pair. "Do we know you?" The one in the mask was no help, and the blonde was...
A blonde? And a mask? The penny dropped. "Waaaiiit, are you the ones who got Derik to make a total ass of himself last year?" She grinned as she said it. "Because if you were, don't get me wrong, that was hilarious apart from the sulking."
Derik, who'd been steadily making his way along the table, glanced up when the sound of his name caught his ear over the background noise of the room. He did not like the looks he was getting at all. He sidled further down the line of food.
(( Derik may not remember, but Gall does at least while it's in continuity. I realized this is probably Charlotte post-morph, though, right? ))
"We were there, though," Charlotte said, not noticing Ix's shoulders hunching further. "I had a bit of a different face at the time, though—lost the vampirism, became human. Good stuff." She raised her eyebrows. "So you two are...?"
((She morphed in November last year, so she is indeed human here. :P
The precise definition of their relationship, whatever it was, had never factored into her pursuit of it. None of the words she could think of were quite correct by themselves, so she threw out correctness, shrugged, and said proudly, "We're f---ing. This here?" She ran a hand over her belly. "That guy." She nodded toward Derik. "First time! At least, I'm pretty sure it was the first time. He was all skittish for a while afterward, and Medical says the little sucker's definitely four months now." She stroked her bump fondly.
"That's great," she said, forcing cheer into her voice. "Congratulations, you guys. I'm really happy for you. Boy or girl?"
Ix turned away to the buffet table, face burning. She couldn't listen to this right now, it was too painful. She edged towards Derik, awkwardly reaching past him towards the peanut butter cups. "Sorry," she muttered. "'Scuse me, sorry..."
At best, Gall was too pleased with herself to realize she was probably making everyone in earshot uncomfortable. At worst, she didn't care. "They tell me it's a boy. Still can't believe you can actually know that already." She shook her head, then leaned in with a confidential air. "Hey, what do you think for a name: 'Dogbreath' or 'Burrfoot'? I had the first one in mind for a boy or a girl, but the second one is a family name, so...?"
Derik was in the middle of dishing up some of what he was pretty sure were sweet potatoes swirled with black food coloring and nearly lost a spoonful when he jumped—he was too focused, and Ix had come up quietly on his right. "Ah, shards, sorry," he muttered back, replacing the spoon and stepping out of the way. He looked toward Gall, confirming that this was one of the people she'd been talking to. With his free hand, he rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. "I know that look on her face. Whatever she's been saying, it was wrong and I apologize."
Ix's hands shook as she took her food, and she had to remind herself that she was wearing gloves—he had no proper way of telling it was her. "She's really excited. I think it's sweet."
It took Charlotte a moment to remember Gall's home continuum. "Well, I think Dogbreath is pretty good for where you come from," she said. "But it doesn't sound like something that'd fit Derik's home continuum?" She hugged herself, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in her chest. "Maybe you two could find something that would be a compromise."
"Your face! Oh, Loki, it gets people every time." She patted Charlotte bracingly on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm pretty sure this kid is safe from goblins here, so I don't mind breaking with tradition." She snickered some more, but then her face softened. "Nah, but for real, I know what his name is. It'll be good. Don't tell Derik, though. I can still get him sometimes if I trot out the really old ones, like Hugefarts."
Derik, blissfully unaware of the content of the conversation, regarded Gall with a mixed expression. "She does have her moments," he said, then shook himself and turned back to Ix. "I'm sorry. Did you want to talk to me, or...?"
Ix ducked her head, turning her shoulders away from Derik. "Sorry, I'm not looking to bother you."
Charlotte shook her head. "Hey, nothing wrong with the names from your home canon," she said. "I'm just... a bit jealous, that's all." She glanced back at Ix, wistfulness on her face.
"They're terrible—that's the point. But, why jealous?" She followed Charlotte's look and raised an eyebrow. "She doesn't want kids?"
"You're not," Derik assured Ix. He gave the masked agent a curious look. Something about the cadence of her voice was tugging at a memory, but it refused to surface. He shook his head. "Well, I had better take this over. If I'm lucky, I can get her settled down and go pretend I'm not an idiot for half an hour or so." He gave Ix a little half-smile to show he was kidding—mostly—and walked back. On the way, he paused to snag a pair of suspiciously neon-colored fritters.
Charlotte sighed, glancing up at Derik as he returned. Ix lingered by the food table, looking no more morose than normal, so she figured she wasn't too upset by her conversation with Derik.
"We can't have kids," Charlotte said. "Well. She can't. It's a bit of a sore spot for her, especially since I want one..."
"Gall," Derik said sharply. "That's an insensitive question." To Charlotte: "I'm sorry, my best efforts have so far failed to instill a sense of propriety in my partner."
Gall snorted. "You've instilled plenty in me."
There was a very subtle twitch in Derik's cheek. It was likely stress, but quite possibly he was refusing to laugh at that in front of a presumed-nice presumed-stranger.
"Anyway, it's a fair question," Gall said. "Do you know how many stories I've heard about weird ways people have gotten pregnant around here? It's enough to make you think we're weird for doing it with good old-fashioned boinking."
"Nowhere to keep the baby," Charlotte said. "And the, uh, problem translates over, using the disguise generator. She's been tested. I know adopting's still a thing, but it's... more the fact we wouldn't have any other option, you know?"
For a moment, Gall lapsed into complete seriousness. "That would suck."
"And space is certainly an issue," Derik added. "The paperwork to request a move is insane, and Building Maintenance won't give me permission to knock down a wall..."
"So Plan C is to find an empty RC—one of the big ones—and just tack our number to it." Gall, who was a Viking, after all, grinned. "My girl Gremlin can even fix the console, so no one will know the difference. Oh, and speaking of Bad Slash hookups: if you really wanna do the whole nine-months thing, there's always one or two little bean sprouts that've been debugged and could use a surrogate. They've got the tanks, but..." Gall made a face that eloquently expressed her disgust with the idea. "It'd be a lot more like it was your own that way, right?"
(( I just recently had this thought about the problem of the usual tiny RC. I don't wanna change numbers, so this is my solution. ˆ_ˆ ))
Charlotte didn't look wholly convinced, though. "Still doesn't change the fact Ix couldn't..." She shook her head. "Sorry, this is supposed to be a party! I shouldn't be making the mood so glum. Derik," she said, touching his arm. "I never got the chance to properly congratulate you, too."
"Thank you, but... I'm sorry... if we've met, I don't recall."
He looked to Gall for an explanation, but she just looked back with an enigmatic smile. Whatever answer Charlotte chose to give was certain to be interesting.
(( Her silence might be a kind act in disguise, but I'm not sure. I suppose it depends on what happens next. {= D ))
"I was Christine, Ix was the Phantom, and there was this huge kerfuffle with a Space Marine—don't tell me you don't remember her, at least." She jerked her head at Ix, who had frozen in front of a platter of canapés, eyes huge behind her mask.
"You made Ix cry and went and busted your hand in a tantrum and basically acted like a jackass," Gall added in a helpful tone.
Derik's mouth pulled tight in a grimace. The actual memories remained incoherent, but the bitter emotions flooded back. He took a breath. Benden, Boll, Hanrahan, Ping, Telgar, Tillek... The silent litany was a touchstone that enabled him to refocus and enter a new state of mind, both more aware of and removed from his surroundings. It had taken him the better part of a year to gain a command of the technique. He looked at Ix, nervous and keeping her distance, then back to Charlotte, beginning to bristle. Understandable.
He handed the plate of food off to Gall. She proceeded to examine it.
"I'm afraid it's all a blur," said Derik, "but please allow me to apologize properly for everything I said and did that was inappropriate or upsetting." He gave a deep bow, extending one arm to include Ix in the gesture. "I can't claim I wasn't myself, but I was walking a dangerous path then. I have found a better one now. Nothing like that will happen again."
((Preferably from an oiled-up and shirtless Thoth yes I know it's not the badfic games anymore))
"I mean, I'm not upset about it," Charlotte said. "From what I understand, people do some really weird stuff when they're drunk." She glanced back at Ix and lowered her voice. "And honestly, she's... really sensitive. You could probably sneeze at her and she'd get upset. She's getting a lot better about it, but—" She clamped her mouth shut when she noticed Ix edging closer.
Ix stopped at a relatively safe distance from Derik, studying him warily. After a moment, she held out a hand with a nervous smile.
(( Don't worry I've got plans for further installments. ))
Derik wasn't quite sure what Ix intended, but he reached back and gently took her fingers. "I disappointed you, I know that much. I am sorry. The truth is, I'm not fit to be anyone's mentor." His control faltered, and he couldn't stop the flicker of his eyes toward Gall. He was, however, able to keep the unrelated terror from intruding further. "Perhaps a friend?"
Gall's attention appeared to be focused on picking dubiously through the selections on her plate.
Ix faltered at the offer. To her, it had come completely out of left field, and she had absolutely no idea how to appropriately respond. "Er—"
Charlotte nudged her. "It's okay to say yes, hon."
"Er... in that case..." Ix smiled, though it still looked nervous. "Yes."
Charlotte nudged Gall and nodded towards the food table. "Hey, I'm hungry. Want to give me suggestions? First Halloween with human taste buds, I could use the help."
((:P))
Derik smiled back, equally unsure. He had no idea what to do next, either—all his friendships in the PPC up until Thoth had been based around competition or drinking or both, and no relationship with a Space Marine could ever be called normal. This was new territory. A lot of that was happening to him lately.
"So like," Gall's voice rose, "my relationship with food is weird right now because hormones and all, but for starters... Derik, what the hell is this?" She prodded a pile of goop with green bits.
"Er." Derik looked. "Spinach dip?"
"Okay. This is the worst. Avoid this. It smells like feet and shame and it is making me literally sick." She handed the plate back to Derik. "I'll get my own."
He sighed, lips pressed together, and said nothing. No amount of mental training was enough to deal with this.
Thoth, divested of his partner, had wandered over. He cast an appraising look at the costumes on display.
"Ah... A pirate of some sort, then, Agent Ix? I am... unsure. I imagine it would be a matched set with Charlotte, but that, too, I cannot be certain of." His gaze turned to the other agent. "Brother Derik, you look most handsome. I confess to having noticed your partner's costume already. I trust that both she and the child are doing well?"
(("I'm not pregnant, I'm just hefty!"))
Ix startled at Thoth's approach, but nodded. She opened his mouth to answer his question, only to fall silent when he turned to Derik. Stupid of her, getting above herself like that.
Charlotte grinned as she followed Gall to the buffet. "You might like that spinach dip once the hormones don't interfere with your sense of smell," she said. "It's quite good with crackers or tortilla chips."
Derik didn't try to hide his relief at his brother's arrival. He could have hugged the other man, but settled for extending his hand to clasp his wrist (which involved half Derik's arm being gripped in return).
"Yes," he answered the question addressed to him, "both in fine fettle. Gratingly so." He wondered if Thoth got the bad joke that was their costumes. Likely not, which was one more reason Derik was pleased to see him.
He meant to turn back to Ix, but he'd been studying Thoth's costume and realized what it was. There was a moment while his response hung in the balance. A year ago, he might have taken it as a jab, more salt in his wounds, a thoroughly unexpected betrayal. But now, from Thoth, such a thing was quite impossible.
The scales tipped. He laughed softly. "Well now, brother. I have to applaud your attention to detail. What did you use? Not actual wherhide...?"
Gall snorted. "Thought you said you didn't know anything. I'm not saying you're wrong," she went on. "Hell, I might like it tomorrow. Right now, though, it's all about these things." She'd made a bee-line for what had turned out to be fried Kool-Aid in various flavors. "Also, that's hilarious." She pointed out a tin of ribs and cocktail wieners arranged to look like an open human torso with a cheekily grinning skull set at the top. It had already been picked at, so it looked particularly desiccated.
(( "They gripped wrists in the manner of warriors" and variations on the same —approximately every other page in some HH books, to the point it's an innuendo-licious in-joke. You're welcome. ˆ_~ [Unless you're Agent Ix, in which case I'm sorry, the rampant unstoppable ship-fuel is being very rude.]
(( The ribs tray was not my idea. A friend of mine took a picture of one at an office party. Similar to this one. ))
"By my reading, that struck and acceptable balance between accuracy and convenience." He smiled. "I am... glad that you appreciate it."
He paused for a moment. "But I might ask, perhaps, inquire to the status of Miss Sabhir. I can sense that she has just become somewhat distraught."
((Ahh, Thoth, ever failing to be properly be polite. Sorry I jumped in like that, Ix, I'll try to keep you in the loop. And... I really, really hope I spelled Agent Ix's last name right.))
((It's Saibhir. And it's pronounced "sev-here". Irish, man. :P))
Ix glanced up, feeling very small. She wasn't short by any stretch, but next to Derik and especially Thoth, she was tiny. "No, I'm... it's just..." She glanced around, hunching her shoulders. "Parties," she muttered. "Not really a fan, but Lottie wanted to go together."
"I don't know much," Charlotte corrected. "I'm now very intimately acquainted with cottage pie, lasagne, pork tenderloin, and..." She shuddered. "Calamari." She reached over and grabbed a rib, inspecting it. "So, do I just eat the meat off the bone, then?"
(( Possibly one is just as bad as the other. I dunno, I can't pronounce either. ˆ_ˆ ))
Derik, who actually possessed social faculties and could use them on a good day, took a moment to explain: "We sidelined her, Thoth." Then he addressed Ix: "Sorry. I can relate, I think. Pernese festivities usually include some organized entertainment, so guests know what to do with themselves. These Terran-style affairs are so shapeless, it's easy to feel adrift without someone to take you up in their wake. ... And the music is awful," he added in a low grumble. Not about to go off on that, he instead occupied his mouth with some of the food on what was now apparently his plate.
"Yep!" Gall confirmed. "And if you don't get the sauce all over your face, you're doing it wrong. I'm not even punking you; that's a bone-afide fact."
Ix cocked her head, listening. "Okay, yeah, this song is pretty bad," she admitted. "At least there's no dancing. Might as well have two left feet," she added, grimacing. She was beginning to sweat under her mask; why hadn't she realized how stiflingly hot it would be? She shivered, steeled her nerves, and pulled it off, using it to wipe her face. "It's really warm in here."
Charlotte grinned and began nibbling on the ribs, her eyes fluttering shut in appreciation. "Oh, man, this is good." She paused, grinning, eyes still closed. "Bone-afide. That's pretty hilarious."
"I frankly cannot see anything particularly good or bad about this—although it does seem to be distinct from your tastes, Derik."
not to mention proper music to go with it. He was glad he hadn't said so.
At Thoth's question, he smiled grimly. "You don't want to get me started on that. Not right now, anyway. We'd be here all night, and no one else has the transhuman patience necessary to listen to me rattle on for that long. Why don't we return to an earlier topic? Ix, you're Westley from The Princess Bride, aren't you? I don't think we've made Thoth watch that one yet, but it's up there with the Pythons in the echelons of required canon, or so I was led to believe. Would you like to tell us about the character?" He made the question as gently inviting as possible.
Gall's grin stretched wide. This could be fun. "Hmm... if you liked that... looks like there's some hot wings over here. Wanna test out your spice tolerance?"
(( For the record, I spent a lot of time between posts coming up with screeds on the topic of so-called "popular" "dance" music, so this is not me avoiding the topic. This is Derik remembering how to conduct a polite conversation as he would have been required to do as a Harper and a Wingleader. ˆ_~ ))
Ix stared up at him, looking more like a deer caught in the headlights than a dread pirate. She swallowed and re-tied her bandanna, wishing she had pockets she could shove her hands into. "Erm... he used to be a farmhand, and then set off to seek his fortune, and was captured by pirates... um. He ended up becoming the captain and one of the best duelists in the world and he returned home to find his true love?"
Charlotte laughed and nodded. "Let's see just what this body can do, huh?" she said, reaching for the extra spicy sauce. She poured some on her plate, dunked her food in, and took a bite.
There was a long silence while she chewed, and then she dunked another piece. "It's good," she said, shrugging.
"This man..." Thoth squinted. "What is his true love? Why did it drive him so? Was it knowledge? Power?"
"Haven't you seen enough Suefics by now to know that one's true love is usually a person for us mere mortals?" he said, grinning. "A girl, in this case. The fair country maiden Buttercup, loved by Westley, but desired and captured by the foul Prince Humperdinck during Westley's absence. Westley is gone so long that Buttercup becomes despondent and agrees to marry Humperdinck, but then Westley returns, and determines to save her with the help of a rag-tag band of misfits. Comedic shenanigans ensue. Thoth, I reckon you'd appreciate the battle of wits between Westley and the Sicilian outlaw Vizzini. And Inigo Montoya—surely you've heard someone quote him at some point?" He put on a fair imitation of Mandy Patinkin's Spanish accent: "Hallo! My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!" His mock-lunge was lackluster due to needing to balance his plate in one hand. Addressing Ix, he added, "Did you know his actor was also a Broadway performer? Quite a good singer, too... for a tenor." He gave a partial wink, more a twitch of his cheek so as not to fully close his one good eye.
Gall regarded Charlotte with deep suspicion. "... Huh. I wonder if there's anything hotter. Some of these things have really goofy names and bottle designs that would fit in with all the skulls and stuff, like the Ass Reaper. Someone might've been sadistic enough to leave some lying around." She started searching the table, but was quickly distracted. "Ooh, pumpkin pie! That's got a vegetable in it, so it's technically healthy." She served herself a generous slice.
(( Mandy Patinkin is cool. {= ) ))
When she realized he was just playing, she relaxed, looking rather embarrassed at her startling. "I didn't know that, actually," she said quietly. "I'm not really much of one for singing—"
Charlotte looked up from her fried chilli peppers, slammed the nibbled end of one down onto her plate, and marched back to the group, not looking to see if Gall was following. "Did I just hear you say you can't sing?"
Ix's eyes went wide. "Um. I mean, I—I can't—"
"The first exorcism she ever did, she sang the wraith out of Elsa!" Charlotte said proudly, turning to the others. "You should have seen her, she was amazing."
((He sure sounds cool!))
"It seems there are many musicians among us tonight. I must confess a lack of talent in that area myself, however. The art of war consumed enough of my attention."
He paused for thought. "I suppose that is love, between two mortals, then. My apologies, it's been long enough since I had any experiences of the sort..."
Neither of these topics were ones he was sure he wanted to be drawn into further.
Naturally, that was when Gall chose to stride back up to the group, mouth half-full of pie. She gave Thoth a once-over and a nod. "'Sup, Jötun?" With a smirk, she said to Derik, "See you found your boyfriend."
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, we're announcing our engagement at midnight. Don't miss it."
(( Thank you for the perfect setup for a joke I've been planning this whole time. {= D ))
"Indeed. Naturally. Indubitably." He sighed.
"...In fact, I have no intent of stealing your man, Gall. The days when I would have considered such a thing are long behind me."
He adjusted his glove slightly and looked around the room, taking in everybody present. "I seem to recall something occurring two years prior to this night that was... unpleasant for all involved."
His companion shifted the fur cape hanging from his right shoulder, then smiled up at the first man. "Oh, don't worry about that," he said. "It'll be fine, and even if something does happen, we're Agents. We know how to handle ourselves."
The frown the man dressed as a slightly-more-practical (he wasn't going to leave his thighs bare) Chandra Nalaar bore lessened slightly. "You may have a point," he admitted. "I have not yet uncovered anything suggesting anything similar shall occur." Yet being the key word.
The man dressed as Liliana, Last Hope of Innistrad turned his attention to the room at large. "There, you see? If something was going on, you of all people would have found it." He looked around, hoping to see someone he might know. "Now, let's enjoy ourselves."
"How does she see through these things?" growled Apecian, brushing his currently reddish-pink bangs out of his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that night. "It's gotta be magic!"
"It is probably science, actually," Michael said, a slight smile playing across his face. He seemed perfectly at ease in his formal white-and-gold shirt and black pants, unlike Apecian, who was still getting used to moving in what amounted in a wedding dress.
"No, she's a - waaaait a minute." His irritation vanished and he grinned at his partner. "Okay, yeah, it's science. Guess her dad really planned ahead, huh?"
"She was meant to be a perfect perpetual combat machine," Michael pointed out. "It would be a rather large oversight to just... let her die because she refused to cut her hair."
The Aviator stopped beside them, readjusting her grip on Elanor. Mother and daughter were dressed as the Fourth Doctor and Romana respectively, with Elanor looking like a tiny doll in her hot pink coat and long white scarf. Zeb trailed behind them, adjusting his headband with its K-9 ears.
"I'm more a fan of Ajani Goldmane, myself," the Aviator continued, grinning.
"He's a big lion like Uncle Zeb!" Elanor added.
"That's right!" the second said. "I like Ajani too, but he wasn't in the cards tonight." Was that a snort from the first man? No, it couldn't be. His expression didn't seem to have chamged at all, and surely it would have had to.
The second smiled at Elanor when she spoke. He glanced at Zeb, and those ears did look like they might be vaguely lionlike. Maybe. Sort of. "Well, since you know who we are tonight, who are you dressed as?" he asked the small girl.
Elanor beamed proudly and squirmed until the Aviator put her down; she twirled, showing off her coat. "And Mummy's the Doctor, and Uncle Zeb is K-9!"
"It was Ellie's idea," Zeb said sheepishly.
"Do the voice, Uncle Zeb!" Elanor begged. "Please? Please please please please?"
Zeb smiled. "Affirmative, Mistress," he said, in a spot-on rendition of K-9's voice.
... the perfect imitation was completely lost on those who hadn't ever heard K-9. However, it did have a certain robotic quality that was rather impressive. And it certainly didn't hurt that it had been preceded by a twirl that could only be described as adorable . It was quite tempting for the shorter, he who was dressed as Liliana, to say so out loud, but some children could be touchy about that...
"And which Doctor is your mother?" he asked, crouching down in front of her. "Is she... the tenth?" One in thirteen odds weren't that bad, right?
"She's the Fourth Doctor," she said, folding her arms.
The Aviator put a hand on Elanor's shoulder. "I'm guessing you're not too familiar with the show," she said, a half-smirk of amusement on her face.
"I haven't ever seen it," he said, laughing a little as he looked up at the Aviator. "I'm afraid the only thing I know about Doctor Who is that the Doctor can regenerate if he dies and that Moffat is a scourge upon the continuum when nobody reins him in."
"Moffat actually did a pretty bang-up job his last season," the Aviator said. "But for the most part..."
"The air turns blue when she's watching Eleven's run," Zeb stage-whispered.
"Mummy says lots of bad words when she thinks I can't hear!" Elanor piped up. The Aviator facepalmed.
"Maybe I should be glad it might be a while before we can expand our canon list." He glanced up over his shoulder at his partner. "Doctor Who is in... what's the phrase... in our court?"
"As good a term as any," the taller man replied. "However, speaking of our list..." he trailed off as his partner raised his hand, then gestured around them. He-Who-Was-Dressed-As-Chandra raised an eyebrow, and was answered by one from his partner. He nodded slightly, and a slight smile flickered over his face.
"Don't think we got your names, by the way," he said. "I'm Uncle Zeb—uh, Zeb. I'm Zeb. This is my partner, the Aviator—"
"'Sup?"
"—and her daughter."
Elanor curtseyed proudly. "Princess Elanorelisindrivar of Gallifrey!"
"Elanor is fine," the Aviator said quickly.
He curtsied to Elanor - oh rays how did people manage to do this all the time without stepping on their dresses and tripping themselves. "An honor, Your Highness," he said, before turning to Zeb, accepting the offered hand. "And it's nice to meet you, Zeb! I'm Dilx'Sav'Te'Rin, although most people just call me Dilx, and this is my partner, Animus."
Animus gave both the Aviator and Zeb a cool, appraising look for a moment, then seemed satisfied. "Well met," he said, inclining his head slightly to them.
She held out her arms to him, clearly begging to be picked up. "Your name is pretty long! Not as long as mine, though!"
The Aviator inclined her head in turn to Animus. "And you," she said. "What department are you in? We're DMS."
"I don't know many people with names as long as yours," he said. "But where I'm from, people with long names are usually important, so it's no wonder you're a princess."
"We also work for the Department of Mary Sues," Animus replied. "Within the department, it appears that, for the moment, at least, we have specialized ourselves in continua with a number of spin-offs, prequels, sequels, tabletop role-playing game editions, related games in general, and other such properties that borders on the maddening."
The Aviator nodded at Dilx. "And everyone has long names where I'm from."
"Earth," Zeb muttered under his breath.
The Aviator casually trod on his toes. "Gallifrey," she said. "Elanor and I are Time Lords."
"I'm just a Pokémon in disguise," Zeb said cheerfully. "Thumbs are much easier to eat candy with."
"Well, then, I guess that just means all of Gallifrey is important," he said.
Animus raised an eyebrow at the Aviator, wondering if she was taking his partner a bit more seriously than she should. He then wondered if he'd perhaps misheard about the additional strength of Gallifreyans, or if she was holding back with her partner. "So I had presumed," he murmured.
Dilx glanced at Animus - he knew these two? - before looking at Zeb. "You're a Pokémon?" he asked. "I thought you were just dressed up as a character who's a lion. But if not..." He thought for a moment, then guessed, "Pyroar?"
"Oh, I wish," he sighed. "Pyroars have the best manes. Nah, I'm a Luxray. Well, normally." He pulled off his headband, flicking one of the K-9 ears. "Right now I'm a robot dog."
"K-9. I should have guessed," he said. "And Luxray manes seem pretty good to me! Of course, maybe I'm not the best person to ask. I'm still getting used to this, after all." He reached back and tugged on one of his violet locks.
"Whoa," he said. "That isn't your actual hair, is it? Or do you mean you just haven't gotten used to it for tonight? It looks really cool, either way!"
"I'm actually in disguise too," he said. "I usually don't have any hair at all. It would look really weird to you if I did, and to... basically anybody else."
Zeb folded his hands shyly. "If it's not rude of me to ask..."
Elanor tugged gently on Dilx's hair. "I like your hair," she declared.
"Thank you, Elanor. And it's not rude at all! I normally... um... Oh... what's the word..." He glanced at his partner for help.
"Naga," Animus said.
Dilx's expression brightened. "Thank you! Right, normally, I look like one of your Nagas - the new ones, not the ones without arms - except I have five heads. And am purple."
And then, because she still had all the maturity of a two year old, she pulled.
The Aviator was by her side in a flash. "Elanor, we don't pull hair," she said, taking the Time Tot from Dilx's arms. Elanor screwed up her face, looking like she was about to throw a tantrum, but the Aviator put a finger on Elanor's lips, beginning to hum.
"Let's move over this way," Zeb hastily suggested to Animus and Dilx. "They might be a while."
He nodded and started walking in the indicated direction, and Animus was right behind him. "I probably should have expected that," Dilx said, just a little embarrassed. "But her mother seems to be pretty good with her! Is it talent, or has she done this before?"
Zeb shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked. "Back on Gallifrey. I am sorry about Elanor," he added, blush deepening. "She seems to like testing what she can get away with. We're trying to curb the habit, with... varying success."
"Oh, don't worry," he said. "I know how hatchlings can be, and she didn't even pull anything out. Which isn't to say you shouldn't be trying to get her to stop!" he added hastily. "It's definitely a good idea, just - you know. I'm not about to start shedding early about it." He then blushed, realizing that that probably sounded really, really weird to somebody without scales.
Animus bumped against him slightly, and Dilx's blush faded slightly. "How old is Elanor?" the taller man asked. "While I admit to my own experiences in the area being rather atypical, what I recall of most children implies they should not be communicating at her level at her apparent age."
Zeb paused, then amended, "Well, she'll be two next month. I think that's close enough. I'm not really sure what a human would be like at that age..."
"Time Lords mature more quickly," the Aviator said, rejoining them. Elanor was fast asleep in her arms, face buried against the crook of the Aviator's neck. "Well... not exactly. In terms of intelligence, perhaps, but emotionally..." She kissed the top of Elanor's head. "She's still just a toddler like any other."
"She must be quite the handful," he said quietly. No need to risk waking the child if she wasn't much of a heavy sleeper. "A two-year-old with the wits of one several years their senior is not one I would be quick to volunteer raise. And yet, it seems the three of you are doing admirably well, particularly given the circumstances." Dilx shot Animus a questioning look. The red-headed man pressed his fingers lightly to his partner's elbow and said, even more softly, "TARDISes are, as memory serves, sapient, and thus might be of assistance in the matter, and while Headquarters has its advantages, it cannot be an easy place to raise a child." It wouldn't have surprised Animus if he could be heard, but it was more the spirit of the effort than anything else that made him lower his voice anyways, so he didn't mind.
"You guys don't need to worry about waking her up," she said, bouncing Elanor gently. "She sleeps through the consoles going off now."
"And what a relief that is," Zeb added. The Aviator bumped him with her hip, and he grinned. "Ave's the one who does most of the work. I just babysit when she needs a break."
"My TARDIS is great," the Aviator said, "but she doesn't exactly have the capability of running across the RC to stop Elanor from climbing on the counters."
"Ah. I had thought, perhaps, that you spent the majority of your time inside of the TARDIS, whom I was under the impression had a degree of control over her interior." He glanced at Elanor again. "Does she attempt to do so often?"
"She's a regular monkey," she said. "And about as destructive as one, too. She keeps finding ways to pull electronics apart to see how they work."
"Worked," Zeb put in.
"Worked," the Aviator acquiesced, sighing. She kissed the top of Elanor's head and smoothed her curls carefully. "And you're not wrong about the TARDIS," she added. "She rearranged her interior so Elanor's nursery is right by the doors. Gives her a quiet place of her own, and the TARDIS lets me know if she wakes up and starts fussing."
… exclaimed Chelsea as she walked into the party, her footwear flopping against the floor.
Lemon, in a witch’s hat and dress, looked worriedly at her partner’s flippers on her feet. “Don’t you think you should at least change your choice of footwear?”
Chelsea, with an anglerfish mask over her head and a ghillie suit over her body, turned around. “Too late for that now!” She waddled towards the food.
Lemon shrugged, watching her go. “Alright then.” She then followed.
((Heyo! I decided to try RPing again! Lemon is a rat from the Sonic continuum and Chelsea is an Inkling from the Splatoon continuum. Edit: made an error on the mask, so I deleted part of a sentence.))
He was dressed as Gandalf, with a wizard hat, gray cloak, and staff replacing his usual black robes.
"Happy Halloween! I think. Still not sure how happy this is supposed to be."
“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty happy!”
Lemon put her on her partner’s shoulder. “Chelsea, please.” She looked concernedly to the wizard. “Is something wrong?”
"I was not sure if 'Happy Halloween' was appropriate, since this holiday seems to have some connection to death."
“Do you mean ghosts? Or spirits?”
"That sort of thing seems to have been the origin of this holiday, at least in my reading."
“I guess the ‘Happy’ in ‘Happy Halloween’ isn’t appropriate?” Chelsea said, shrugging. “I dunno, it’s not like we’re celebrating death or dying, right?”
"From what I can tell, we are celebrating having time away from work and decent food."
“I’m off to go get some!” With that, Chelsea walked towards the food table. She stopped and looked back. “You guys coming?”
Lemon looked to Peregrin.
"I am, uh, ... what was your name?"
“I’m Lemon.” Lemon pointed to her partner. “And that’s my partner, Chelsea.”
"And I am Peregrin, with Mary Sues." he replied.
"Where are you from, Lemon?"
(( Sorry, forgot to actually hit post ))
“Though, if you’re asking about which department here, it’s Mary Sues.”
"So, what do you work on outside of missions?"
“We’re in the Video Games Division, so we play video games to expand our canon knowledge. Other than that, I step outside our RC for a jog or to train.”
"That was more my former partner. I mainly try to learn how plotholes work. It has not been going well."
“Plotholes seem to be an interesting sort of phenomenon.”
“Here we are!” At the food table, Chelsea waved to Lemon and Peregrin. “Food!”
and started off by grabbing some salad.
"Yes, plotholes are very interesting things. The problem is that, for all I know, they are actively resisting research efforts. Not a problem I ever expected to have."
“They are?” Lemon questioned while grabbing a slice of pumpkin bread. “How so?”
Chelsea listened in as she grabbed a cupcake that had a spiderweb drawn over black frosting.
"So either there is some factor I am not controlling for, or things are just that unpredictable."
“That’s weird.”
Lemon wordlessly agreed.
“So what kind of experiments did you do?” Although the mask’s maw blocked Chelsea’s mouth, her smile was evident.
"When holes tend to appear, where they go, interesting energy emissions, that sort of thing. It helps that I have access to a lot of data while on missions and in HQ."
This rumbling proclamation from the towering posthuman did little to discourage his young human companion. “Leonidas. We’ve already been over this. As far as I know, Dozle Zabi is the only character from the franchise with a build remotely similar to yours.”
The Space Marine, the one the (much) smaller of the two Agents referred to as Leonidas, shrugged his massive shoulders. The oversized uniform of a Zeon officer seemed to be struggling to contain the warrior’s powerful form, as if at any moment he might erupt from it as a wild creature more beast than man. “Very well, Samuel. Who are you impersonating again?
“Just call me Sammy, I really don’t mind,” answered the gold-haired human boy at his side. The youth’s gray eyes peered up at his counterpart through a pair of pilot’s goggles. “I’m Quatre, remember? Pilot of the Gundam Sandrock?” The gleam of excitement in Sammy’s eyes touched a buried memory and the Space Marine’s flint-hard gaze softened slightly. "Very well..let's go." With that, they wandered into the room.
"See?" said Ferrux, jumping back out of the way of the pair. "Now if I had that guy's build, I really might look like Iskandar!"
"Indeed you would," noted Ialthos. "...And while I've only had minor diplomatic experience, I'm pretty sure you never say that sort of thing to anyone you've just met. Ever."
"...Oh. Ah... right." Ferrux looked briefly abashed, but it didn't stick; he'd never been abashed for longer than 0.5 seconds in his life. "Anyways, Hallo the to the both of you! I'm Ferrux, fearsome dragon currently pretending to be Japan's vision of a Greek hero. Whatever "Japan" and "Greek" are..."
"They're countries in World One, you goof," Ialthos said. "Anycase, I'm Ialthos, Knight-errant-or-something-like-that-I-guess and resident voice of reason! Who're you?"
Leonidas nodded solemnly to the newly introduced pair. "Leonidas of the Dark Angels, currently in the garb of one Admiral Dozle Zabi of the Principality of Zeon." "Your disguise is well made, Ferrux. I would not have suspected you to be a dragon," he rumbled. Sammy facepalmed at this. "And...Greek? Did you mean Grecian? I was once told my name was taken from a Grecian hero of the ancient days." As Ialthos spoke the words 'Knight-Errant', the Space Marine's brow furrowed in slight confusion. He doesn't appear to be a Knight Titan. He shrugged again. "I was, long ago, a knight of sorts myself. In a way, I never stopped being one."
Seeing that his partner was unsure what to say beyond that, Sammy cleared his throat. "I'm Sammy. Sammy McLeod, home canon is Gundam Build Fighters. Right now I'm dressed as Quatre Raberba Winner from Mobile Suit Gundam Wing--a similar canon that existed as an anime series in my setting." He grinned. "I like to think that I pass for Quatre pretty well other than my eyes being the wrong color. Also...Ialthos, are you dressed as a knight or are you actually a knight? Because I don't think you said what your costume is."
"Yeah, Grecian! It was... Iskandar! Yeah, that's it. Although apparently the actual man looked nothing like this..." Ferrux laughed. "Don't ask me, I haven't got a clue... But yes, I really am a dragon. And yes, Ialthos really is a knight."
"...You never let me explain for myself..." Ialthos grumbled good-naturedly. "But yeah, I'm a night. I'm dressed as Halt, apparently. People say I'm a discount Ranger, so I went all in. No idea who you guys are, but you certainly look pretty good for it."
"I think I remember seeing one of those books somewhere. Can't for the life of me remember where though," Sammy said, still grinning.
"Why would a Ranger be named Halt?" Leonidas mused. "If a Ranger is expected to wander, then is it simply irony that drove the writer to name one the synonym for an abrupt stop in movement?"
Sammy glanced to Leonidas, slightly surprised. He didn't usually get this much idle conversation out of his partner in a day, let alone in the space of a few minutes. He took off his goggles and cleaned them with a soft cloth he produced from his pocket, quietly pleased with the Space Marine's sudden sociability. "So how long have you two been here? And how'd you end up here, anyways? Plothole?"
Ialthos wrinkled his brow. "Honestly, I'm not sure. We were there, now we're here. I hope they're alright without us."
"Ehh, they'll be fine!" Ferrux clapped a hand over the knight's shoulder. "Eric's got a good head on his shoulders, mostly. And Liz is growing up fine! It's hardly like we're the center of the universe or anything..."
"I guess you're right. Man, Liz was cool... She hit me over the head, once."
"Really? Why?"
Ialthos blushed. "Erm... I don't remember... It can't have been that important."
"...if she was willing to hit your head over it," Sammy said with a wry grin.
"Agreed," Leonidas nodded. "Unless she communicated only in the Ork tongue."
Sammy blinked. "I don't get it."
"It's been said that Orks communicate mainly by grunting and hitting each other in the head for emphasis."
"Did...did you just make a joke?!"
"Well, yeah," said Ialthos. "Of course you do. You're practically a walking one."
Ferrux chuckled. "You don't mean that..."
"Oh yes I do, especially dressed like that!"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
Both of them looked at each other. And then they burst out laughing.
Ian and Henry had satisfied themselves with all the sugary goodness on offer for the moment and begun to wander the rest of the party, looking for entertainment. Henry had spotted Leonidas, which wasn't exactly hard.
Ian shook his head. "No way, I'm not going over there. The other one said he'd cut us down. What if this one actually does?"
Henry smirked. "You scared?"
"Yeah! Why aren't you?"
That was not the answer Henry wanted. He scowled, which he could do quite impressively with his long face. "Ian, it's a party, and it's the PPC. We're totally surrounded by people who probably have knives and stuff. Nobody's gonna hurt us. Don't be a baby." He marched toward the legionary.
Ian sighed, shook his head, and followed. Technically, he was older, so it was probably his responsibility to save his friend's life if it came down to it, even if he was being really stupid.
"Hi!" Henry called out once he got close enough. "Who are you guys?"
(( Henry's logic here is unimpeachable. {= P I couldn't resist the urge to try and get him into a conversation here. He has opinions about the original Leonidas and certain portrayals thereof thanks to his association with Agent Suicide. ))
Sammy waved at the two boys, almost his age but not quite. "I'm Sammy, Gunpla builder and battler, although right now I'm doing neither. Your Scout outfits look great." With a wink, he put a fist over his chest in the iconic salute of the Scouts.
"If you're Scouts, shouldn't you be wearing carapace armor?" Leonidas interjected. "And are those jump packs of some kind? Those aren't issued until a Scout progresses to the Assault Squads of the 8th Company..."
Sammy rolled his eyes, but seemed unperturbed by his partner's critique of the newcomers. "Wrong canon, mate."
"That explains much. And as I forgot to introduce myself, I am Master Leonidas of the Dark Angels Chapter."
(I really need to read those stories. I've only really read the Original Series, and new missions as they come out. :P Naturally, Leonidas hasn't seen Attack on Titan since it'd be funny to have him mistake the meaning of the term Scout to refer to a newly recruited Space Marine...)
"And Ferrux the Dragon!" The big man looked down at the kids, grinning broadly. "Hey, you guys look cool! What are scouts? How did you make the costumes? Where do you come from? What are your names! I'm dressed as Iskandar! Can you tell me anything about him? I honestly don't know much, everyone just says I look like him, so I figured why not..."
"Excuse him," said Ialthos, sighing quietly. "He always gets like this around kids."
It took them a moment to rebound from Ferrux's boggling stream of talk.
"Um, the Scout Regiment is from Attack on Titan," Ian said, once more taking up the job of explaining things. "They go outside the city walls, they can almost fly with their omni-directional mobility gear" —he patted his replica, which was primarily made of cardboard— "and they fight Titans." He cut the explanation off there, just in case, unaware of the potentially hilarious ambiguity of the term.
Henry grinned at Ferrux. "Did you say you're a dragon? You should go talk to Thoth. He's being a dragonrider." Switching gears, he turned to address the new Space Marine. "Is Leonidas your real name, or is that your costume? You don't look like the real Leonidas. Or even the bad one."
"They must be either very brave or very foolish, or both, to take on a Titan in melee. Generally most warriors die before they get there," Leonidas remarked. Sammy nudged him.
"Not that kind of Titan, either, probably. These are giant naked sort-of people who eat regular sized people."
The Space Marine nodded. "I see. Like feral Ogryn on some worlds. And yes, my real name is Leonidas. Who was the real one? What do you mean by the 'bad one'?"
"Well," he began with great authority, "Leonidas was the King of Sparta in ancient Greece, and he was the one who led the three hundred Spartan hoplites and their allies in the battle at Thermopylae. He was a great warrior and a great leader. He wouldn't ask his men to do anything he wouldn't do himself. My friend Suicide—he's really my mom's friend, but he's mine, too—he told me the soldiers used to tell this joke: What's the difference between the Spartan king and a mid-ranker?" He paused for suspense and grinned the grin of a boy about to say something he knew full well he shouldn't. "We sleep in this shithole over here. The king sleeps in that shithole over there."
Both boys laughed at the illicit language.
(( Sorry for the long silence! Thoth and I were both confused about whose turn it was.
(( In other news, I am now rereading Gates of Fire, because why not? ))
Leonidas nodded solemnly. "Truth be told, I like to think I was much the same. In terms of leading by example."
Sammy snorted at the boys' joke, then added, "It must have been so different to live in those times."
...And burst out laughing. "Now that," said Ialthos, "is a king I wouldn't mind following into battle!"
"Hey, our king was just fine!" chimed in Ferrux.
"...He almost tried to have you killed."
"It was a misunderstanding! Water under the bridge! And didn't you work for the guy?"
"Well... technically the Knights' Order is an independant organization with only historical ties to—" Ialthos trailed off when Ferrux's eyes started to noticeably glaze over. "Okay, yes, I did work for him. He was... decent. But this Leonidas guy sounds pretty great!"
"You're tellin' me!" cried Ferrux. "I'd love to meet him. Wish I got more comparisons to him. No idea what this Iskandar guy was like, but I doubt he was that cool."
((Sidenote: in the Fate universe, he is totally that cool. ^_^))
"I'm from the Alex Rider 'verse. Also Australia. Henry's a Potterverse wizard."
"I mean, sort of," Henry said. "I was rescued as a little baby, and Ian was just three when 'Raen rescued him, so we're mostly from Headquarters. It's pretty different from everywhere. No kings, no wars, no nothing exciting, really." From his expression it was clear that he chafed just a bit at his circumstances.
"And Ireland in-universe. It's a somewhat obscure canon--not a proper Gundam series really, it's more like Digimon or Beyblade but with models of mobile suits," Sammy said enthusiastically. "Yeah, it was pretty quiet in my home too. Not much in the way of kings or warriors--just a big world to explore and good friends to play and battle by your side," he finished wistfully. He fumbled with a hard leather pouch at his side and pulled out a figure of some kind of war machine, the model about six or so inches tall and painted green and gold, wielding a flail. "One hundred and forty fourth the size of the real thing," he said. "Made it myself," he added proudly. "Gotta see if there's a Gunpla Battle system in HQ. Haven't looked into it much yet."
"I'm from Warhammer 40,000," Leonidas rumbled when Sammy was finished. "I was Master of the Fifth Company of the Dark Angels Chapter of Space Marines when I...left. I'd been on active duty for several centuries all told. I lived on a feudal world before that as a child; I proved worthy of recruitment by taking on a full Astartes in single combat."
"We don't know where. Apparently, the canon is unpublished or something. But it was pretty nice! there were knights, and dragons, and kings..."
"Ferrux, I"m pretty sure they know all that already..." Ialthos sighed. "But yeah. Home was pretty beautiful, when I wasn't on duty off fighting things. Or stuck doing improv diplomacy... with orcs..."
Both boys examined Sammy's figure with interest.
"I don't know if anybody plays that," Ian said. "We know about Gundam 'cause it's kind of a big canon with all the different series, so it gets a lot of badfic, but... Maybe some of the older kids? How old are you, anyway?"
Henry turned away and regarded Ialthos and particularly Ferrux. "By the way, what sort of dragon are you?"
"Yup! And I'm 15 by the way...Yeah. There are a bunch of different timelines but After Colony is my favorite. So I based my Gunpla off the Gundam Sandrock Kai, piloted by Quatre, the guy I'm dressed as. The original had giant curved swords that could each bisect a mobile suit. But I gave it a flail instead so that I could make better use of its physical strength..."
Leonidas let his young companion ramble, his eyes roving around the room.
"My scales look like my hair. Funny how that works..."
Ialthos gave him a whack. "You did that deliberately! I've looked it up, that's not how the magic works." He turned to the kids, grinning. "He's a western-type dragon. He's also adorable."
"Yes!" said Ferrux proudly, "Yes I am!"
"...Honestly he's like an oversized puppy sometimes..."
"Oh, ease up on me, knight. It's not like I've ever heard you complain about it."
"Hey, I went this far with you. Don't push your luck, dragon."
"...As I recall you went quite a lot farther than that..."
Ialthos whacked him again, blushing furiously. "Ferrux, there are kids present!"
"Hey! Your dirty mind isn't my fault." He grinned at the kids. "Never marry anyone who will whack you on the head. It turned out well for me, but as a dragon I have a thicker skull and... ow! What was that for?"
"Absolutely nothing..." said Ialthos, chuckling to himself. "I just thought it was funny."
"Well then how would you like... this!" Ferrux poked Iathos's forehead. Both of them broke down laughing.
"You guys are weird," he opined. "I don't think I'm gonna get married to anyone at all if it makes you that weird."
Meanwhile, Ian was thinking. "That's, uh, Wing, right? Yeah, we definitely learned about that one. One of the villains was a big Lust Object, and his name was Zechs?" He snickered. They had barely made it through that particular class. On the other hand, they remembered it, so the teachers likely considered it worth the inevitable case of the giggles.
"...that was Wing. And that sounds like Zechs, all right. The whole Lust Object thing with him is kinda weird considering there's already a canonical love interest of sorts for him..."
"Since when has that stopped the...shipping?" Leonidas interjected, the word shipping sounding out of place from a massive super-soldier currently dressed as a rather imposing Zeon admiral.
"Good point," Sammy sighed. "Anyhow, yeah. Wing is awesome. It's where I started, and even though I've watched a lot of others since then, it's still my favorite and I keep coming back to it. If you ever wanna meet up and binge-watch it, let me know. That goes for all of you lot," he added, including the dragon/knight couple as well as the boys in his invitation. "Or binge-watch anything, really. With some exceptions." He coughed twice suddenly, and it sounded strangely as if the word "Twilight" was sandwiched between the two coughs.
Kat glared at her brother, one hand on the door handle.
“I’m not sulking! I’m being in character!” Edward was dressed as a zombie, and he was walking like one too: arms stretched out in front, staggering from side to side.
“Don’t be silly! Just because I dragged you to this party doesn’t mean you can act stupid! I don’t know about you, but I’m here to have fun and socialise, not to have an embarrassing brother trailing after me!”
“I’m hardly the most embarrassing person in HQ. Anyway, this is a complete waste of time.”
“Shut up,” said Kat, adjusting her witch’s hat with one free hand. “How do I look?”
“Like my sister.”
Kat rolled her eyes, pushed open the door and stepped through. Edward lurched after her, hissing “Brains...”
“I said, shut up!”
Well, the clatter of heels, and the wordless growl that accompanied it. And the shouts of, "Look out!" and "Get out of the way!" and one shout of, "YOUR BANGS!" That last was probably addressed to the person barreling towards them who probably had no idea where they were, given that they would have had to have x-ray vision to see through their hair. Thus, they were now bearing down on the siblings, and if they didn't move, there was going to be a collision. There would probably be one if they did move anyways, but it would be between the stranger and the wall instead.
but Edward was too intent on his zombie impression to move until it was too late. His hunched position made him harder to knock over, but the speed of the collision and the weight of the other person sent them both flying in opposite directions.
Kat ran forward and grabbed her hat, which was now rather squashed. She began carefully manipulating the fabric, trying to repair the damage.
Edward stood up very slowly. “That,” he said, “is why I don’t like parties. Now I’m going to get a drink.”
“Edward,” said Kat reproachfully, “you know you shouldn’t drink! Remember the time you flooded the entire room?”
But he was already gone. Kat shrugged, and decided she couldn’t be bothered to chase after him. There was a fun night to be had.
"OhTruthI'msosorry," he said, before he'd even gotten off the ground. "Is anyone hurt? I didn't slam into anybody too hard did I?" He brushed his hair out of his eyes again. "OhTruththehorn. Nobody's impaled, right? Should I go get Medical?"
She paused before continuing: “I don’t think Edward’s seriously hurt, judging by the fact that he can still walk. Anyway, he’ll almost certainly pick up a much worse injury before the end of the night. Or he’ll seriously injure someone else. I was hoping to keep him away from the alcohol tonight.”
...said Thoth, adjusting his costume.
Tom shrugged, his grey cloak obscuring his face. "Hey, you can probably blame Derik somehow. I certainly would. Just avoid offering anyone Mjød this time. The residual smell of the vomit hung around for quite some time."
"Very well." said Thoth. "I do not wish to see this costume ruined in any case. It took significant effort to get it in the proper size." The fur-lined jacket he was wearing looked it: while it was cleanly stitched enough, it appeared just a bit ad-hoc. There were more seam lines than might be expected, as was required to fit a Astartes' frame.
"Hey, I had to put in some effort too!" Tom waved the implement in his hand, so as to draw attention to it. "I had to find a distaff! I didn't even know what a distaff was when I started doing this!"
"And I had to research anything about this uniform that the novels did not reference."
Tom squinted at Thoth. "And what possessed you to want to go as a Dragonrider anyways?"
"It's what I've been reading of late. Care for some Klah?" The tone of that response made it clear Thoth wasn't getting any more information.
--
In another corner of the party, two men were engaged in an argument.
"I don't look like him!"
"You absolutely do."
"I don't at all! The build's off, I tell you, not to mention the hair!"
"Then why'd you go as him?"
"Because everyone says I look like him!"
Ialthos grinned. "You're not getting out of this one that easy, dragon."
Ferrux, laughed, his eyes twinking. "Oh, really, then? Well then I guess I can do... this!" He planted a large hand atop Ialthos' head, rubbing it back and forth through his hair.
"Aaaugh! Stop that!" cried the knight. But he was smiling as he said it. "I'm too tall, and not even in the right costume for that to make sense!"
"We could have gone as a pair, you know..."
"Please. You can pull of Iskandar easy, but if you think I could do Il-Melloi II, you're out of your mind."
"And what is your costume, anyways?" asked Ferrux (who, despite what he might claim, could put on a decent show as The King of Conquerers if you didn't look too closely).
Ialthos puffed out his chest in mock pride, pulling his mottled green cloak close around himself. "I," he said, "am the formidable Ranger, Halt."
"...Huh. Why that?"
"You know how everyone says you look like Iskandar?"
"Yeah..."
"Everyone says I'm a discount Ranger."
((Yes, I've brought in two groups this year. Meet Tom and Thoth, once again, and for those of you who haven't yet, meet Ferrux the Dragon (presently in human form) and Sir Ialthos! I trust you'll find them pleasant enough.))
Two boys dressed as Scouts a la Attack on Titan went barreling through the crowd. Nine-year-old Henry Robinson was taller and skinnier than his ten-year-old friend, Ian Thomas Horowitz, and he used that to his advantage in order to slip between people, even if they were really standing too close together.
"'Scuse me! Pardon me! Coming through!" he called out, grinning. He was Eren Jaeger. He was flying through the air with his ODM gear, swinging through the narrow city streets, ready to whip out his sword and slice into anything that got in his way!
He didn't have a real sword, of course, and he wasn't planning to hit anybody with his pretend one—he would be SO dead if his mom found out—but that wasn't the point. The point was he was free and fast and unstoppable.
Until something, or rather someone, caught his eye and he skidded to a stop. He backed up a few steps and looked up—and up, and up some more—at the giant man in what he was pretty sure was a dragonrider's flight jacket. "Whoa," he said. He looked back the way he'd come, found his friend in the crowd, and called to him. "Ian! Hey, Ian! Come over here!"
Ian caught up, puffing a little with the effort of going around groups Henry had simply gone through. "Dangit, you're too fast," he complained. "What?"
"Do you see this guy?" Henry gestured. He was pretty sure they were far enough away not to be noticed gawking.
"Whoa," Ian echoed. Then he grinned. "Is he a Titan? Do we hafta go for the nape?"
(( I think Ian was technically adopted at some point, but then nothing ever came of it and I don't remember who adopted him, so I'm borrowing him again. If that person turns up and wants to take over, I'm all for it! ))
...He didn't do anything else, just... blinked.
"Hi!" said Tom, smiling broadly at the children who had just appeared. "What's up with you two... scouts, innit?"
"I would not know," said Thoth, flatly. "I am not, however, a Titan. I am an Astartes. Although at present, I am dressed as a Dragonrider. What is it that you two children desire of me?"
((Thoth had no idea how to handle this situation. Can you tell?))
Once it was clear they weren't in trouble, though, Henry stepped forward to regard Thoth more closely. "Aren't you a little tall for a dragonrider?" he asked, deliberately emulating Princess Leia's skeptical tone when she'd asked a similar question. Henry had a naturally solemn look and a nose too long for his face, which were the legacy of one of his fathers, and fine, uncontrollable black hair and green eyes, which were reminiscent of the other. He was not a beautiful child.
Ian, on the other hand, was a typically well-built and all-over golden Australian, this being the only concrete detail defined about his heritage. He hung back, unwilling to get quite as close as Henry to the stone-faced giant who had obviously overheard his joke. Rather, he sidled more toward Tom. He looked nice, like Gandalf, only without a beard.
(( I think I know who Tom is now. Funny that it's a LucasArts game, since I'd written Henry's line before going to see what a distaff was and following the thread to the Loom from there. ˆ_ˆ ))
"He isn't," responded Thoth. "And I have no idea where his mother is. However, I am indeed rather tall for a dragonrider. I was tempted to use the Disguise Generator to correct this, but my partner here informed me this would break etiquette. I did not believe that risking my limited abilities in biomancy on such a feat was worthwhile."
"...But excuse my partner," Tom interjected. "He's being terribly rude! I'm actually Tom, and this here's Thoth. Who're you two?"
((...And yeah, you were dead-on.
Loom is another great game. Extremely charming. I sorta want to make an agent from the setting someday, just because it's so... well, fun. And pretty-looking. Make sure to obtain a copy of the original EGA version from a pirate site or something, though. The game's author, Brian Moriarty (yes, that's his real name) and many fans are of the opinion that the shinier VGA graphics and voiceacting in the version presently available for sale from reputable sources... doesn't really work. I would agree.
At Tom's question, he grinned. "I'm Eren Jaeger!"
Ian cut in before he could get further: "No, I wanna be Eren! You always get to be Eren!"
Henry sighed. "Okay, fine, you can be Eren. I'll be... Captain Levi! Yeah." Levi was cool, and frankly, he looked the part more anyway.
Ian nodded. "Yeah, okay." To Tom, he explained: "Eren and Levi are Scout Division. They fight Titans. Titans are like giant naked dudes who eat people, and you have to cut the nape of the neck to kill them." He glanced nervously at Thoth and murmured, "But, we weren't really gonna..."
"Actually, I'm Henry," said he, jumping into the gap. "Henry Robinson. This is my friend Ian Horowitz."
Ian gave a little wave.
Henry turned back to Thoth. "I know we're not supposed to use the disguise generators for Halloween and all, but you're like, bigger even than Fandarel! I think a dragon would have trouble carrying you, unless it was a bronze or maybe a brown, and even then he'd get tired faster."
"You would be kin of Jennifer Robinson, then?" Thoth didn't wait for an answer. "From your aura, I presume I was correct—although no doubt you will tell me in a moment. Give her my regards. I have not seen her in one year. And if you are concerned I think you may assault me, have no fear. If I truly believed you desired such a thing, I would have cut you down where you stand"
Tom banged Thoth's arm. "Hey, no freaking out the kids with death threats! Or for that matter, your magic mood-ring powers. But now that's clearly a secondary concern..." He sighed, and nodded to the kids. "He's harmless, really..."
"I am a deadly warrior, bred for battle, who has spent millennia in the most hostile realm known to life."
"Firstly you've never been to Catachan, secondly, you are not helping." At this point, Tom tried to inject some levity into the situation. "Horowitz, eh? Like the author?"
Ian—despite nodding a quick affirmative to Tom—was clearly ready to bolt, but Henry was entering a phase of more self-confidence than sense. He only wished he could do proper magic already; then he'd show anybody who thought they could hurt his friends. For now, though, he was still only nine, and he could only make things happen by accident sometimes, if he were really mad or scared. He wasn't quite either one yet.
"How do you know my mom?" he said.
"Your mom knows everyone," Ian whispered.
"No, not everyone," Henry shot back, a trifle embarrassed. It did feel that way sometimes. "Anyway, most of 'em are confidential." He turned back to Thoth. "Are you one of the confidential ones?"
(( I think I'm gonna introduce Derik and Gall in another post just to see what happens [if anything], but I'll bring 'em around here sooner or later. Sooner if somebody needs rescuing. ∗g∗ ))
Tom laughed. "Yeah... like we could keep this guy under wraps. 'e's huge! Just tell him the story, Thoth."
"I met your mother a year ago," said Thoth. "Exactly one year ago, in fact. At a party much like this one. Derik was... inebriated. Such things seem to attract her attention. Later, I provided my assistance in heeling an injury."
"...You forgot the part where you were also somewhat drunk, and called Derik "brother" for about half the evening." Tom said. "Didn't she bless us, too? Or you, at least... I have no idea how you keep charming important people."
Thoth shot him a glare. Tom ignored it, as usual.
His mom was, well, his mom, but she was so weird sometimes. "Okay, well... she's not coming tonight. My little brother's sick, so she's at home with him. But I guess she'd want to say hi, too."
Ian tugged at his green cape. "Can we go now? I wanna get snacks."
"Just one more question," Henry said. "If you're a dragonrider, you have to contract your name. How are you going to contract 'Thoth'? That's—" he chuckled "—that's like a dragon name both ways around."
(( Assuming a soft th on both ends, anyway... I did see the thing where the first one is supposed to be a hard t, though, in which case Henry's comment may be read without the last three words. {= )
(( And yes, Henry has a little brother, who would be about two at this time. Jenni will/did adopt the kid from "Subjugation." But That's Another Story. ))
Thoth wrinkled his brow. "Apparently, that is how it is supposed to be pronounced in any case. I was... not aware of the intricacies of Ancient Terran when I chose the name."
"Go get some snacks, anycase," said Tom. "I saw some fun stuff over at the table..."
((Oooh, fun! I'll be interested in finding out sometime.))
Ian was tugging at him, and he was going along, but he got one last word in before turning and trotting off: "You better fly right, Dragonrider T'oth!"
(( So that happened. Mouths of babes, eh? ))
((I'll say. It was fun to see Henry bounce off this lot.))
Ix stopped just inside the doorway, nervously gripping the hilt of her rapier. "I'm starting to have second thoughts."
Charlotte gently tugged Ix farther into the room with one hand, using the other to keep the skirts of her red gown off the floor. "I'm sure," she said firmly. "Your mask isn't going to fall off this time—you'll be fine." She paused, then reached up to adjust the black bandanna on Ix's head. "Though hold still for a bit. You tied it crooked."
Ix's mouth quirked up in a smile. "As you wish," she said, and offered Charlotte her arm. The pair set off towards the snacks table, Ix feeling significantly more confident about this year's Halloween party than the last.
Violet, wearing the wig she'd used in her Wonder Woman outfit the previous year, fake elf ears, and an overly shiny gray dress, waved at the two arrivals with the hand that wasn't holding a pumpkin spice donut. "A+ taste in movies for you both. Oh, and congratulations on getting married! I know I'm late to the party but I didn't get a chance to see you the last few months. If anyone asks it's my author's fault."