Wayne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ablativeholopleather) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2023-09-27 09:41 am
ablativeholopleather) wrote in come_sailaway2023-09-27 09:41 am
[Open] | Out of grace and reality
Who: Wayne and Whoever
What: Shipside nonsense of various flavors
When: End of September through mid October
Where: Pool, Theater, Sports Deck etc
Warnings: Possible discussion of depression and existential ennui, mild body horror
1. Visions
It's nothing new to hear music coming from the weird little ship docked up on the uppermost deck. Honestly, it's not particularly strange to hear music coming from wherever Wayne is occupying his time. His guitar is almost always with him unless it's in his ship, and more and more, he's been throwing himself into creation. Having access to the finished product of what he'd been working on on his own hadn't curbed it in the slightest; in fact, his inspiration had been piqued, and he found himself playing along with that more polished, produced sound and iterating on it.
Whether up on the deck with his grounded airship, or in his cabin, or on the theater's stage, Wayne making funky surf rock is audible, and at times even joyous in his lowkey way. He might even be working on some lyrics again. Crazy, right?
It will take him a second to notice if you stop and listen to him, but the moment he does, he'll have a hand up in greeting and an upward nod your way. Unless you're one of those that can't see such gestures, in which case he'll offer a quiet "Sup?"
2. Realign
Everything has been so goddamn weird lately. "Lately", more like the last several months... But especially in the last couple. He's decided to attempt to stop caring as much about what's going on, what's happening to him, what he's feeling overall. He'd learned a little bit from Max in the arena of comfort with himself, and more than that, not really caring about others' perception of the oddity that he presents compared to the rest of the more organic, fleshy sorts.
As such, Wayne can be seen up at the adults' pool with an enormous rubber duck with a head shaped similarly to his own, laying on it like a regular floatie, in a pair of trunks that expose his skin to the sunshine. Which means that anyone that hasn't yet will be able to see not only the myriad larval scars down his sides, but the panels of dark flesh on his back and the raised column of his spine. There's enough room on the duck for someone else to come lounge with him if they're relatively small. Otherwise, he'll just drift in circles, chin perched between the horns of his duck, and lift a hand when he sees someone. Once again, with that "Sup?"
3. What Could Go Wrong?
The only time he's gotten to fight and actually feel like he's done a good job in it, it's been in other's memories or dreams, and that, he feels, is a travesty. He used to fight for survival, use his hard-won skills to muddle his way through to another day, another fight, another meal, just another, another, another.
Solo, he'll be throwing empty containers as high into the air as he can and on the way down, he hits them with several different attacks. A Snap, a burning streak of napalm, a time spell that makes a bottle stop tumbling through the air after a second of hang time, even a small explosion that would almost certainly alarm those with super-hearing in the vicinity. All of them are accompanied by weird little noises, often guitar chords at varying levels of cacophonous.
Sorry to whoever just got hit by the bottle that finally just got done falling after spending a good thirty seconds suspended in the air.
4. In The Garden
Wayne had been lucky; the flowers hadn't affected him much at all, save for a run-in with the poppies that allowed him to go head-to-head with the figment of the thing that had been tormenting one of his closest friends. It hadn't amounted to much, but it had at least been cathartic.
Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid it forever. He'd have to breathe to talk eventually, and in doing so, he'd opened himself up to this terrible thing, and at least for a little while now, he's been sprouting some frankly quite lovely purple orchids, and stems of hyacinth, from the softer places in his flesh. Fortunately most of these have been pretty easy to cover with his jumpsuit.
It's a little harder to disguise the occasional little bitty white yarrow flower that he spits out. Sorry to whoever catches that happening.
5.a Afterthoughts
Good news, everyone! There is now a way for him to hide out not at the bottom of the pool, and it's by being small and round and as heavy as a small cinderblock under various tables.
Here and there around the ship, you may spot, or perhaps step on, or trip over, a little yellow vaguely cat-shaped guy. It wears an expression very similar to that that Wayne does most of the time, nonplussed but otherwise neutral. If one were to interact with it, they might be answered with a little warbly sound.
5.b
You might also notice, here and there, a windswept blonde fellow in a leather jacket carrying around Wayne's guitar, generally being amiable, or just keeping to himself. He plays Wayne's music, sucks on a juice box, snacks from a container of cubed melon, and generally vibes in the shade.
Perhaps he'll be able to trick someone that doesn't know him into believing that he always looks like this and they just haven't noticed him until now. Probably not, though. He's not good at deception, and he's not used to having hair yet. He would also still introduce himself as Wayne. Did we mention that he's not good at subterfuge?
What: Shipside nonsense of various flavors
When: End of September through mid October
Where: Pool, Theater, Sports Deck etc
Warnings: Possible discussion of depression and existential ennui, mild body horror
1. Visions
It's nothing new to hear music coming from the weird little ship docked up on the uppermost deck. Honestly, it's not particularly strange to hear music coming from wherever Wayne is occupying his time. His guitar is almost always with him unless it's in his ship, and more and more, he's been throwing himself into creation. Having access to the finished product of what he'd been working on on his own hadn't curbed it in the slightest; in fact, his inspiration had been piqued, and he found himself playing along with that more polished, produced sound and iterating on it.
Whether up on the deck with his grounded airship, or in his cabin, or on the theater's stage, Wayne making funky surf rock is audible, and at times even joyous in his lowkey way. He might even be working on some lyrics again. Crazy, right?
It will take him a second to notice if you stop and listen to him, but the moment he does, he'll have a hand up in greeting and an upward nod your way. Unless you're one of those that can't see such gestures, in which case he'll offer a quiet "Sup?"
2. Realign
Everything has been so goddamn weird lately. "Lately", more like the last several months... But especially in the last couple. He's decided to attempt to stop caring as much about what's going on, what's happening to him, what he's feeling overall. He'd learned a little bit from Max in the arena of comfort with himself, and more than that, not really caring about others' perception of the oddity that he presents compared to the rest of the more organic, fleshy sorts.
As such, Wayne can be seen up at the adults' pool with an enormous rubber duck with a head shaped similarly to his own, laying on it like a regular floatie, in a pair of trunks that expose his skin to the sunshine. Which means that anyone that hasn't yet will be able to see not only the myriad larval scars down his sides, but the panels of dark flesh on his back and the raised column of his spine. There's enough room on the duck for someone else to come lounge with him if they're relatively small. Otherwise, he'll just drift in circles, chin perched between the horns of his duck, and lift a hand when he sees someone. Once again, with that "Sup?"
3. What Could Go Wrong?
The only time he's gotten to fight and actually feel like he's done a good job in it, it's been in other's memories or dreams, and that, he feels, is a travesty. He used to fight for survival, use his hard-won skills to muddle his way through to another day, another fight, another meal, just another, another, another.
Solo, he'll be throwing empty containers as high into the air as he can and on the way down, he hits them with several different attacks. A Snap, a burning streak of napalm, a time spell that makes a bottle stop tumbling through the air after a second of hang time, even a small explosion that would almost certainly alarm those with super-hearing in the vicinity. All of them are accompanied by weird little noises, often guitar chords at varying levels of cacophonous.
Sorry to whoever just got hit by the bottle that finally just got done falling after spending a good thirty seconds suspended in the air.
4. In The Garden
Wayne had been lucky; the flowers hadn't affected him much at all, save for a run-in with the poppies that allowed him to go head-to-head with the figment of the thing that had been tormenting one of his closest friends. It hadn't amounted to much, but it had at least been cathartic.
Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid it forever. He'd have to breathe to talk eventually, and in doing so, he'd opened himself up to this terrible thing, and at least for a little while now, he's been sprouting some frankly quite lovely purple orchids, and stems of hyacinth, from the softer places in his flesh. Fortunately most of these have been pretty easy to cover with his jumpsuit.
It's a little harder to disguise the occasional little bitty white yarrow flower that he spits out. Sorry to whoever catches that happening.
5.a Afterthoughts
Good news, everyone! There is now a way for him to hide out not at the bottom of the pool, and it's by being small and round and as heavy as a small cinderblock under various tables.
Here and there around the ship, you may spot, or perhaps step on, or trip over, a little yellow vaguely cat-shaped guy. It wears an expression very similar to that that Wayne does most of the time, nonplussed but otherwise neutral. If one were to interact with it, they might be answered with a little warbly sound.
5.b
You might also notice, here and there, a windswept blonde fellow in a leather jacket carrying around Wayne's guitar, generally being amiable, or just keeping to himself. He plays Wayne's music, sucks on a juice box, snacks from a container of cubed melon, and generally vibes in the shade.
Perhaps he'll be able to trick someone that doesn't know him into believing that he always looks like this and they just haven't noticed him until now. Probably not, though. He's not good at deception, and he's not used to having hair yet. He would also still introduce himself as Wayne. Did we mention that he's not good at subterfuge?