lostcarnival | LMDMVIYH [OPEN]

Entry tags:

LMDMVIYH [OPEN]

Who: Greg and also others
Where: In the Backyard, or around the work tents
When: A couple days after leaving The Matrix
What: Some changes are hard to get used to. Some are welcome returns to familiarity.

Sometimes getting over a bad episode just takes time. Sometimes you need to accept you're not okay in order to start getting okay. Sometimes you need to almost get shot in order to recognize life's better spent enjoying things. Sometimes... sometimes you need to get a little indulgent.

A.

This time of day, a lot of people are probably at work--Greg hopes so anyway. He doesn't want anyone to get bothered by the rumbling of the engine as he rolls his way over to the Backyard... except, he doesn't want it badly enough to avoid blasting rock music from inside the garish, customized van. He keeps the windows rolled up, but the bassline can be heard thrumming through from a fair distance away. Anyone close can surely make out the emphatic squeal of guitar solos through the muffled music.

He can't help himself. He missed this baby, coughing engine and stained seats and all. Maybe he can take the long route back to the trailer... just to make sure the ol' wagon can keep up in this atmosphere... and to let this CD finish, you gotta listen to it all together to get the full experience....

B.

Also, he's finding it's a little hard to physically get around without the car without causing a little bit of a mess. Those little nubs on Greg's forehead have really started to sprout. Four small but undeniably growing antlers, covered in springy fresh moss for some reason, and also whatever else gets caught in them. As much as he's finally pulled out of his funk, Greg's made an effort to ignore them as if they're normal. Totally ordinary!

Thunking into doorframes is uncomfortable, but more embarrassing than painful. (Especially when trying to get in and out of the van.) It's once he hears the rrRRIP as he enters a tent that the bottom really falls out of Greg's stomach and he starts sputtering apologies as he tries to extract the cloth from his horns.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Get ready for Steven to practically leap on top of the van in enthusiasm. This is the last thing he expected to see and he is so excited. He gets right up to the driver's side door and waves his hands in the air.

"Daaaaad! You got the van?!" he yells, surprised in the most pleasant of ways.

"Hey! You surprised?" Greg's smile is about ready to break right off his face. He puts on the parking break as Steven comes dashing up. Can't expect his kid to join him in a moving car, after all!

"I thought the van might help move stuff around the grounds for work, and bring a nice slice of home along with it. Guess the Ringmaster thought the same!"

"I'm so surprised! I didn't even know you could get stuff like this from home!" It's been a few years since he lived in the van himself, but he still hangs out in there regularly enough that it feels like his second home. Having it here is grounding.

He beams back at his dad, looking at the van wonderingly.

"Oh man, this is the best..."

"Check it out--it's even still got all my junk that I left in here, too!" He reaches around to dig through his old unwashed laundry and battered magazines, before pulling out his guitar--HIS guitar, not the one he had to borrow from the performers! "We already had a mobile home, but this is the furthest it's ever made it!"

Just after Greg has finished rummaging around for his guitar, Steven giggles and gets into the van to hop up on his dad's lap, giddy with happiness. It's such a simple thing, but yet somehow so important right now. He hugs his dad with an arm, his lion tail curling and swishing back and both with unconcealed zest.

At the same time, his gem glows faintly. Though it's almost impossible to separate from his own joy, he can feel Greg's relief and comfort as well. In return, Greg may notice the warmth of Steven's own emotions radiate back to him - it's not a forced empathetic insight so much as a conversational message, offered for Greg to take or leave.

"Yeah! The van never even went into space yet, let alone a whole other world. You can take it all over the place, now!"

Well, the next time they find a stop that doesn't suck, anyway.

That gentle glow of comfort and happiness mingles with Greg's own feelings. It's a strange sensation, but he could hardly call it unfamiliar or unwelcome. It's an emotional conversation they've had before, after all... just not previously so palpable.

Greg sets his guitar aside again to make enough room for Steven, and wraps one arm around him. He squeezes Steven's shoulder for emphasis on the hug, the excitement of the familiar overcoming the strange touch of moss on the skin. "I'm sure we'll be catching eyes wherever we go. I doubt too many fairies have seen a ride like th--ow."

He'd straightened up in his seat just enough to let his antlers knock against the roof. "Ahah. There's also some troubleshooting left to do, but we've gotten it working through wilder stuff."

Steven flinches when Greg knocks his antlers on the roof, but laughs a little when he realizes he's okay. He reaches up to touch one, patting its velvety exterior as if he's comforting it from its booboo.

"I guess these guys do makes roofs extra difficult... but they're so cute, though!" he says cheerfully, giving one of them of a pet. He's getting used to his own changes, and he has to say, he thinks that his dad's are really neat too. Especially the antlers, in fact. He's always thought that deer were cute animals.

"Ehh, my posture's lousy enough that it shouldn't be too much of a problem. I just hope they don't grow too much more than this," Greg says, inviting himself for a world of disappointment down the line, "but they are kinda neat."

He feels at one himself, grinning. "The moss is a nice touch. Distinguishing." It's such a weird thing to be pleased with, but he really is pretty pleased that they have at least the one change in common. The more connecting factors the two of them can share in this, the better.

"Yeah! I didn't know about it at first, but I think I kind of like the moss I've got on me... it goes all the way down to my butt, now!" He pats his rear indicatively, and his tail curls enthusiastically. "It feels kind of like fur..."

He sits in Greg's lap and looks at his hand contemplatively.

"I think the claws a little it much, though. You could hurt somebody with these!"

"Wonder if Lion would have some advice about how to handle those. Though he'd maybe be more interested in keeping them sharp."

Greg gently strokes Steven's tail. Now that he's coming to terms with the changes, he's getting new ways of showing affection to his kid. Can't go wrong with pets.

"You're starting to look pretty related to him, too. Wonder if you two can actually talk soon."

There's something about having fur that makes petting suddenly the best thing ever. Not that being caressed on skin isn't nice too, but the fur makes it as pleasant as when someone ruffles his hair. No wonder cats like it so much. Speaking of cats...

"Oh wow! That would be so cool - I wonder what he'd have to say? I bet he knows all kinds of secrets!" He ponders that for a moment. "...Though he still probably wouldn't tell me about them in advance."

Well, the games don't run themselves, but Yuugi is out in the Backyard just closing the door to trailer twenty six when he hears something. His ears are acute enough that he doesn't even need to hear the full thing to be able to know what it is - rock music. They swivel on top of his head as he looks up, finding the source of the noise long before his eyes do and point him towards...a van? A moving one at that, not like the stationary trailers. He steps back and stands on his pawfeet to see, before his ears perk.

Ah, it seems like an age since he last heard any kind of music that wasn't the dull, circusy tones of the Gamers Circle. It's...certainly not punk but even Yuugi can appreciate rock. His ears flick back as he listens, leaning against his trailer and reaching up to finger the cartouche around his neck before he spots the driver. He waves Greg down, a look of excitement on his face.

Greg rolls up to the eager teen, and as the window rolls down the rock blasts louder than ever. Greg only thinks to turn it down enough to avoid yelling over the music.

"Yuugi! You need anything?" A lift? An explanation? A song? An old magazine he never got around to throwing away? He's got them all, and happily ready to provide!

The music is even louder to someone with ears' like Laurens, and he furrows his brows in confusion as he looks for the source. He'd never heard any kind of music like this before. It was so loud and weirdly pitched. He wrinkles his nose in distaste as Greg's van came into view. It was one of those machines they'd seen in the Matrix, the ones that moved you quickly over the land. What were they called again? ...Cars? Something like that.

He covers his ears as Greg gets closer, backing away from his path.

Woop. As much fun as Greg's having, he's not so engrossed as to miss that motion. Greg turns the music down (but not all the way off, he just can't resist) as the van draws closer to Lauren, and rolls the window down.

"Ah--sorry there, Lauren. Too much?"

He doesn't want to insult Greg, but well, he kind of already made his distaste pretty obvious.

"It's very... Loud." Was that a compliment? A complaint? It's impossible to tell.

"What is that?"

Ah yes. The "loud" dodge. He's familiar. Were he still a defensive teen rocker arguing with family he'd insist that's how it's SUPPOSED to be, you just don't GET it Andy.

"This? This is The Secret of the Wave Lies in Creation. Classic indie metal, Quadinometry's best album by far. Gets me nostalgic." BUT clearly not the case for all. "But, I can switch it out for something a lot more, uh, mellow, if you like. I just got a hold of all my old music collection!"

He steps closer to the van, looking inside of it curiously. He was actually interested in what other types of music Greg might listen to. He'd never heard of anything like "Indie Metal." He wasn't even sure how metal could be a type of music, but he figured there were likely plenty of types of music Greg knew about that Lauren had never heard of. Still, even if he wants to listen to something, he isn't sure what he would like or what other types there even are. It seems like the kind of thing he'd have to have a conversation about, and he knew he'd probably just end up embarrassing himself.

Still, Greg was pretty relaxed compared to most people, so maybe it would turn out fine? After this ridiculously long and needlessly complex though process Lauren nods.

"You don't mind?"

Tamaki is up in the silks practicing for his act when he hears the telltale sign of someone ripping something, so of course he has to stop and look.

When he sees the culprit trying to pull the fabric out of his horns, he can't help but laugh at the sight, unfortunately for Greg. The laughing causes him to lose his concentration, though, and he slips right off the silk he was hung on, falling-

onto the safety net. Bounce, bounce.

He's still laughing.

Well, at least his clumsiness makes for more entertainment than irritation. This might be a whole new level of disruptive, though.

"Ohh jeez. You okay up there, Tamaki?"

He's still got a strip of fabric dangling from his prongs.

"Yeah," Tamaki reassures him, getting over his giggle fit. "I do this a lot."

As though to demonstrate, he expertly clambers across the net and to one of the tent poles, descending the attached rope ladder in a flash.

"Do you need help, Greg-aniki?"

It's not much of a front yard. It's a 3'x6' patch of grass with a worn path headed to the trailer door. But his roommate left (contract expired, probably) and Jimmy's got the trailer to himself. And he's looking for distractions, so here he goes.

There's a book on growing roses inside, and right now he's planning out the yard. Really. He is. Plotting out what he wants to do and not half asleep in a lounger. Until he hears the bass coming up the way. Jimmy startles awake, half expecting to see a big black car (1967 Chevrolet Impala some part of his mind supplies) coming towards him, and instead it's a beater van with something Jimmy doesn't recognize playing on the radio.

It's good to see something more recognizable here, and he waves as the driver goes by.

The van putters to a stop outside the would-be garden as an emphatic drum solo thrums from the speakers. Greg leans out the window, grinning; maybe he was just getting waved at, but he's feeling excessively neighborly right now. Though they've never spoken, Greg's fairly sure he recognizes the guy from the cookhouse. It's always worth remembering the people who help feed you, after all.

"Hey there! Making the most of the day off?" He's not being sarcastic. Sleep is a valuable commodity around here.

"I was starting to, yeah. Then at some point it decided that it was nap o'clock, and it went from there." Jimmy's smile turns into a faint grimace as he stretches. "Nnng. God that feels good."

"Looks like you did too." He gets up and heads over to the van and driver. "I didn't even know there was a van here. Where'd you find it?" Jimmy is clearly impressed by Greg's scrounging skills, or luck. Possibly both. Yeah, it's a beater van, but it's a van, and more importantly, it runs.

"Nice day like this, it's a win so long as you spend it enjoying the sun." Well, it's a little gray out, but in Greg's pleasant mood it's perfect.

"There wasn't, up 'til now." Greg straightens up a little bit to preen. Not too straight, though. There's already a couple marks on the roof from those horns. "This one's my car, straight from home! The Ringmaster brought it over to help with work, and threw in all my old stuff in it for no extra charge." He thinks. "Well, she didn't mention an extra charge."

"Nice!" The van now looks a lot more appealing, since it comes from home. Even if Greg's home isn't the same as Jimmy's, it's still a piece of it.

"Yeah. It beats kitchens and dishwashers by a long shot." Especially with the cap covering up his own transformations (and making him feel a little bit like he's making a big deal over nothing with how much everyone else has changed, honestly) walking around in the kitchens with the burners, oven and dishwasher going makes it a fun time.

Another stretch and he gets up, walking over to the van so he doesn't have to shout. "You're probably fine, then? She seems like someone that if she doesn't say that there's a deal, there isn't one? It seems super specific with her." A pause, then he offers a hand up for Greg. "The name's Jimmy. Jimmy Novak. It's good to meet you."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

LMDMVIYH [OPEN]

A

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

A

no subject

A

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

b

no subject

no subject

A.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject