The Horrors Continue [August Catch-All]

[crushed_pearls]

Who: Erin Peters and YOU
What: Coping, mentally preparing for the upcoming excursion, doing dumb shit
When: August
Where: Halls, sports deck, Bobby B's
Warnings: Changeling bullshit, discussions of death and the state of the ship

Practical Jokes [Ship Hallways]

There's a bicycle in the hallways, a gorgeous ten-speed mountain bike all in violet colors. It's propped up against the wall, just kinda sitting there. But if you're known to Erin, or one of the ship's many teenagers, it doesn't just sit; it rings the bell on its handlebars.

Ring ring.

Ring ring ring...

Better Late Than Never [Sports Deck]

Picture it in your mind's eye: here's Erin, with her huge raven's wings, her blindfold, and her aura of sex and gunpowder crackling in the air around her, meditating on the sport's deck with all signs of deep intent. Totally at peace, absolutely in the groove.

Wearing a large pair of felt antlers of the kind one might associate with, say, a Christmas party ring toss game. The rings are all around her.

Try to leave quietly and Erin'll arrest your sneaking with a sharp whistle. She knows you're here.

Game Design [Bobby B's]

In a rare moment where Erin has eyes on, she can be found at Bobby B's several times a week putting the finishing touches on what appears to be a model city, with a cart made from thornwood pulled up next to her table. She carves patiently and slowly; this needs to be correct for Tayrey, and in her perfect world she might be able to paint it too.

Then again, that's a lot of buildings to paint...

Wildcard

I'ma be real I'm trying to break through writer's block here so if you've got another idea hit me up on Discord or private message or just fuck me up.

Comments

Wildcard [Text]

[ss_buttcrack]

Erin, I need to ask you a favor. Can we talk somewhere private?

-Crichton

[crushed_pearls]

Spa there will be a stay silly surcharge in the form of me painting your nails.

[ss_buttcrack]

Sure. As long as I get to pick the color.

I'll be there soon.

-Crichton

He will. It's not a long walk from his cabin to the spa. When he arrives, it will be immediately apparent that he's not doing so hot. Everything from the puffy bloodshot look of his eyes to the slump of his postures says something's not well with him. He tries his best to smile for her, but the warmth isn't quite there.

"Hey. Thanks for coming."

[crushed_pearls]

"Think nothing of it." Erin turns her chair away from a broad selection of colors already set up on the counter to reveal she has put on goat eyes for this; her blindfold is down around her neck. "...Buddy you look like shit."

[ss_buttcrack]

He jerks to a halt when he sees her eyes. That's a... look. But at least she will be able to paint between the lines?

"I feel like it, too." He finishes crossing the room and drops like a sack into the chair in front of her.

"That's part of what I'm here to ask for. See I... I'm in the process of getting sober."

Practical Jokes

[actuallyawolf]

Ylva does not have a name for the metal contraption against the wall, though it looks very impressive, very shiny and new. Are they meant to ring bells at random? Somehow she doubts it.

She gives a thoughtful hum and reaches out to touch it gingerly.

Does she smell Erin?

[crushed_pearls]

She does! Ylva also sees a message write itself onto the bike: Don't get your skirt caught in the chain.

[actuallyawolf]

She looks, and she frowns thoughtfully. Okay, there's a seat, and handlebars, and there's the chain she's supposed to avoid. If this wasn't Erin, she would certainly not be playing along.

But she'll play along.

Ylva, carefully, swings a leg over the bike, and awkwardly tries to settle herself on the seat.

[crushed_pearls]

It's a comfy seat! This is a luxury bike. The bell rings again in the hopes of drawing Ylva's attention in a downward direction.

More words, this time appearing on the handlebars at the same time the pedals of the bike do them a squeaky wiggle: Push the little platforms with your feet to go faster. I'll balance.

Internally Erin is squealing like a schoolgirl - teaching! Ylva! Bike riding!!!

[actuallyawolf]

Oh, more instructions. Ylva looks down, sees the pedals, and rather cautiously puts her feet on them, first one and then the other.

"I'm trusting you," she says, unnecessarily. She's gripping the handlebars tightly, not entirely sure what to expect.

Better Late Than Never

[astrogator]

[Ari Tayrey has seen more peculiar sights in her life, but not many. She recognises meditation when she sees it, although most of what she's heard on the subject comes from Nobunaga, who is not a fan, to say the least. Personally, Ari doesn't care much about other people's hobbies so long as they don't affect her.

This, however, seems practically ritualistic. The meditation. The false antlers. Is it some kind of seasonal rite? Old frontier agricultural worlds could get strange that that way. Superstitious. And she knows that seasonal patterns matter to Erin's people.

Well, Erin won't be calling for rain here, or for a bountiful harvest. Maybe not seasonal, then. She stares at the rings on the floor, analysing, trying to find meaning in them.

And then she gives up, because it's all speculation, and she doesn't want to disturb Erin. If it matters that much, she can ask her later. Tayrey steps away - and hears that whistle.]

All nominal here, Erin?

[Very spacer of her.]

[crushed_pearls]

Erin quirks a grin. "If I know you at all, and I'll flatter myself here, I'll give better than even odds that you just overanalyzed this whole thing. It's just a game, Lieutenant, one I'm deliberately presenting in an odd manner to lure in the curious. The idea is to toss the rings onto the antlers."

Phil's Christmas present, riding at last.

"Plus I've got stuff for the game to pitch at ya, if you've got a moment to jaw about it. Settled on the scenario and now I'm just trying to wrangle the complexity to something simulated instead of the map that is the territory."

[astrogator]

[Tayrey laughs.] You know me about as well as you think. My mind was split between seasonal agricultural ritual and one of those Earther star-pattern stories about a stag. I didn't want to disturb you and ask!

[The real answer is considerably less interesting than her imagination. She doesn't mind that. It's refreshing.]

I do have some time to talk. Complexity's always difficult. Flatten it too much and people can win the simulation without grasping the principles behind it, but leave in too many layers and - well, I'll tell you that I won't be scared off if there's requisite study material before I get to play, but plenty of others would be.

[crushed_pearls]

"The hope is that the game can be the study material but we'll burn that bridge when we cross it. Take a toss or ten, yeah?" Erin's wings stretch, then settle in with her feathers comfortably fluffed. "So! Basic premise is to have you run a Freehold from before the Unmasking. I'm using the one that took me in, and specifically I'm drawing on the conflict it had with one of the gods of nightmare, the Lady of the Lake. There's...a lot to juggle."

ugh, title of this thread really applies, sorry August was such a fail for me

[astrogator]

That... already sounds like a lot.

[Yet the young Tradeliner is smiling a little, as if she'll really relish the challenge of it. Running a Freehold with no experience and very little cultural knowledge would be tough - but isn't the exact same true of a starship?]

So what's the success parameter? Is it to resolve the conflict, or is it to protect the Freehold? [They aren't necessarily the same thing.]

Practical Jokes

[freedomsuitsme]

Maxwell, being Maxwell, doesn't miss a beat as the bike rings at him.

"What do you want?" he grumbles, stopping on his way back to his cabin with a cup of tea to give it an irate look. Yes, he expects the bike to answer.

[crushed_pearls]

The bike, in Erin's voice: "Bitch I know you know what a bicycle is, take a guess."

[freedomsuitsme]

"Look, I've gotten in trouble for accidental kidnapping once already when I mistook a passenger for a rabbit. I'm not about to ride on a sentient bicycle without asking its intentions first. Security would have my head."

[crushed_pearls]

The front tire waggles. "Look, I can't turn into animals an' flop in a sunbeam when I'm craving a minute to not be human, so I've gotta get creative. Figured people might like a joyride, and I already know from being the ball my girlfriend the wolf plays fetch with that I like going fast."

[freedomsuitsme]

He sighs.

"Before I commit myself to an action I might regret, may I at least know who I'm addressing in bicycle form?"

Practical Jokes

[yournewsidekick]

It's... it's like the bike is calling to her with each chime of the bell.

Steal me. Take me for a joyride down every stair on the ship. Do a wheelie off the bow like that one stunt guy who rode a motorcycle off the sword of the big Gloreth statue.

(Evil K'nave-el. Great dude. Would've made an awesome villain if he hadn't missed the mark and splatted on the street. Oh well!)

However, while Nimona hasn't exactly grown a conscience or anything, she does like most of the people here so far and has way less of an urge to steal their stuff than, say, knock over the Tommy Bahama. So while she sidles over to the bike to give it a once-over, she doesn't immediately make off with it.

Yet.

[crushed_pearls]

There's a moment of absolute silence shared between bike and girl.

Then the bell rings again, alongside text writing itself along the bicycle where one might normally put, say, its brand name: Afternoon, youngblood.

Is Erin being ominous on purpose? Yes, don't worry about it.

[yournewsidekick]

Aw, ominous is one of Nimona's favorite things! This is even better.

"Ooooh, talking bike," she whispers, gleeful. She settles a hand on one of the handlebars. "What's up? You got a name?"

[crushed_pearls]

Ring ring.

You can call me Erin.

The words fade away, but are replaced nearly as fast.

Joyrides available on the condition that you harm no one but yourself.

[yournewsidekick]

"Erin, huh?" Not a name she would've expected for a talking bike, but Nimona's not gonna judge. "Nice to meetcha."

She thumbs the bell: ring-ring.

"Let's go for a ride."

And with a whoop, she vaults onto the bike and takes off down the hallway at top speed.