lostcarnival | [open] bro bro bro bro

Entry tags:

[open] bro bro bro bro

Who: Rhys and you!
When: D48-D49
Where: Various Locations
What: It's time for Rhys to make himself at home (or more likely whine that he's not the boss)
Warnings: Probably low but I'll update if anything happens

[day 48 - all around the carnival grounds - what have i gotten myself into?]

Rhys doesn't regret the decision. He doesn't regret taking a deal from some shady Ringmaster (and he hates that he'd never thought of that as a nickname for himself) to escape August and Vasquez and a bunch of killer robots that would have surely ended his life.

What he does regret is leaving Vaughn behind. Fiona and Sasha less so. But, there's still a sliver of sadness that he's here and they're not. Hopefully, whenever this whole thing ends, he'll go back and they'll forgive him.

(Though he seriously doubts that. They'll either be dead or they'll kill him.)

For the first little while, he wanders. He gets his shoes dusty (a development that makes him frown) and his hair wind blown but what else is there to do but figure things out? His lodgings, a trailer in a park surrounded by similar metallic bumps, isn't luxurious but it's not a hole in the ground.

He'll take it. He'll whine about it later.

[day 49 - anywhere that needs cleaning up around the carnival - where's a loader bot when you need one?]

Rhys regrets the decision.

As soon as he reports for work and someone slaps a mop into his hand, he regrets the decision. Janitor. A janitor again. Somewhere, Vasquez is probably laughing his ass off. The only good thing, Rhys guesses, is that whoever's in charge isn't Vasquez and won't be making him run all over the place to do menial things.

He still has to clean though and the grimace on his face as he starts mopping a dirty floor is evidence of what he thinks about that. But, he tells himself it won't be for very long. He tells himself that time will pass quickly.

He tells himself that he can drown himself in his mop bucket if it gets too bad.

Mopping isn't a hard think to do but he still mops over various people's shoes instead of telling them to move and he steps all over his own freshly cleaned floors more than once.

The third time he does that, he curses loudly and then looks around, hoping no one's heard that. He hasn't memorized all the rules but he's pretty sure cursing on the job is frowned upon.

Threaded | Flat

Carly, is perhaps a blessing (or a multicoloured curse) for poor Rhys' work, and those reasons are...well, many in the case of the latter. Being the Wardrobe manager, it means that her tent is probably going to be some measure of 'off limits' half the day, and when it isn't it's absolutely littered with scraps of fabric and glitter, along with careful instructions of what terrible nonsense pile of 'Stuff' is Totally and Absolutely not to be touched.

But on the plus, she cannot ruin the same floors that Rhys is ruining for himself. At least not by walking on them-not when she's constantly hovering three inches off the ground (and as if she needed that extra few inches, with her legs already putting her at a good 6 foot 2-!).

...On the...Not so plus, she totally heard that curse, and has now totally met his eyes during the frantic looking around. Carly pauses, her tongue still stuck out and into her coffee mug, brown mixing oddly with the yellow appendage being used as a straw. "Euuuu.... ....H'rro?"

Look it's hard to say anything when your tongue is the straw-

Thankfully he heard the Foreman was a rather chill person. Even when things went sour he had learned from word of mouth that he hadn't punished any of his workers who had broken a few rules at one of the stops. It seems his own boss was more of the to the point with lessons than the Foreman.

That being said, those are some rather expensive shoes that Rhys just ran his mop over and the owner noticed almost instantly. There's no scowl, no crude remark or threat that comes from him. He picks his words, going for more veiled threats than anything else. His panther ears atop his head slide backwards, his eyes turn towards him to look him over, and his long panther tail behind him curls with a faint lash. He's not in his Victorian best today but the pants and shirt are still made of the highest material from home. Tyki practically screams money.

Still, his coffee cup hits the table with a soft clink as he sets down the notes he was reading and he leans back in that chair casually yet with an air of importance. His heel slides his chair over to face him and he grins wide. Time to mess with the fresh meat because he sure as hell hasn't seen his face before.

"Maybe you should be a little more careful. Accidents can happen easily if you mop incorrectly, kid."

Edited (word) 2018-04-28 13:25 (UTC)

It's as he wanders that Cole spots Rhys and Cole makes his way over towards the other man. Unlike some other carnival members, Cole still looks mostly human: the pink fleshy nug ears that poke through holes in his ridiculous hat are the most noticeable changes he's gained from the carnival. It's just a pity that the rest of Cole's entire being radiates 'weird hobo'. He's wearing fingerless gloves with all the fingers hacked off at different lengths, brown trousers that look like they have a week's worth of dust on them, and a shirt that he put on backwards.

And Cole is just staring at Rhys. He had been going back to his trailer, just to be there for a moment, when he spotted the new person and the new thoughts. He takes a few steps closer as he looks over Rhys, ears twitching all the while.

"You're new," he plainly states. No shit, Cole.

( ooc: please fill out Cole's permissions post b/c he's an infomodding creep & I don't want to step on any toes! c: )

Unlike many of the other Carnival staff, 9S hasn't developed as many (or as dramatic) changes; all that's noticeaby obvious is the pair of cat ears on his head and chicken feathers weaved through his hair. At the back of his head and mostly hidden by his hair is a vicious looking cut lined with pointed teeth bisecting his head. His cat eyes are likewise hidden by the visor he wears over his eyes. Also, he's currently wearing the stupid shirt Lambert bought for him.

During performance week, there isn't too much for him to do if there's no repairs to be done. Well, that, and his repairs job is his less liked job. So when he comes across a new face cleaning, he stops and watches for a while, his robot buddy, Pod 153, hovering at his shoulder.

"Are you trying to clean?" 9S comments, cat ears twitching as he munches on popcorn. "Because it looks like you're getting the floor dirty."

Yukio is taking a short break from work and training to eat... lunch? whatever he's calling this meal, the main meal of the day that he's eating in the midafternoon. He's distracted by the textbook in front of him, and not paying any attention to Rhys mopping the floor.

Until, that is, that mop meets up against the fluffy tuft of Yukio's tail. It's wet. It's cold. It's in his fluff. Yukio jumps up and spins around (as well as he can while sitting on a bench), startled and not very happy.

"What are you doing?"

The woods around the Carnival usually just end up leading the people who head that way back to the entrance, but at least one of the paths Rhys takes will lead him to what's obviously an open-air obstacle course of some sort.

Currently, the only occupant is a man with golden horns and a reptilian tail, rummaging in a box of training equipment... in this case, foam jousting sticks, which he emerges with triumphantly as he straightens up with a stick in each hand. One fuzzy ear flicks at the sound of Rhys's approach, and he turns to smirk broadly at him.

"Hey, you! Know how to use one of these?" he calls out. Without waiting for a response, he's already throwing one of the sticks over to Rhys -- they're not incredibly heavy, but hopefully Rhys doesn't have any trouble holding some thirty pounds of metal and padding.

Most weeks, mops don't get a lot of use. With a lot of the carnival being open paths and tents in a wooded clearing, rakes and brooms do the job. The places that really need the mopping are places like the kitchen, staff pathways through some of the rides, and the mirror maze (which is hardly where anybody wants to work).

But this isn't most weeks. The carnival and library are bleeding into each other, with trees turned to bookshelves and the paths all floored... And all those books, spawning story items like foodstuffs and nautical adventures to splash all over the floor. Mops are a hot commodity now!

So, of course, the cleaning closets are cleaned out. At least there's plenty of Wet Floor signs, and towels, and other makeshift tools to do his best with.

He's just heading to the latest reported area when he hears cursing ahead, and comes to the only reasonable conclusion: somebody has already slipped and hurt themselves.

"Attention, this room is still hazardous to standing upright!" Papyrus exclaims as he rushes in the doorway. "If you don't enjoy the thrill of slipping around, you shouldn't... be...?"

He trails off, taking in the sight of this room: an unfamiliar, seemingly fully human person, who hasn't at all fallen on the floor. One who's holding a mop, the floor wet, with footprints trailing behind him. Perhaps this is one of the book ghost guests.

"Hmm. Are you... trying to help? You don't need to, that's my job!"

Threaded | Flat

DAY 49....

Day 49

day 48

Day 49

49