trans_9 | Queries and Quibbles--mind your Q's

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Queries and Quibbles--mind your Q's

[ooc: Read this bit.]

Something happens outside the ship. There's a concussive noise like something docking, and then the doors to Obs open again, to reveal a mostly intact, but somewhat bedraggled away team. One of them is injured, and part of the group works to get her down to MedBay, some of the others look stoic and a touch upset with what they've learned.

Some look pissed off that their various morphers and power suits have been stolen away from them again by Stacy's tentacles or dampened.

Something happens INSIDE the ship. A handful of individuals are released from their pods after quite some time of running imaginary mazes.

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Cielo makes his way to the Obs Deck, fatigued but hiding it behind wide curious eyes and a bright smile. "Woah. What be all dis now?"

"You have been abducted away to an alien spaceship for unknown purposes, my friend," says Wednesday, looming up behind Cielo.

If he wasn't kind of pudgy and generally creaky-looking, he could well be scary. But being as he is what he is, it's just sort of lame and halfway amusing.

Luckily for Cielo, he didn't have a damn clue about what would be considered scary for the general populous, though lame and halfway amusing he could understand.

The former AI spun around and smiled, digital bright blue eyes blinking at the stranger and rubbing the back of his neck. "What's dat mean? Alien spaceship?"

"The great gamjibby in the sky reached out a hand and—woop." He gestures upwards with an arm. "Everyone else here was stolen away from their home, too. The brain trust is still trying to figure out why the ship—Stacy—took us."

"Gamjibby?" He followed the motion of the man's hand with his entire head, braids swinging around. Cielo shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again, looking so very confused.

"All I remember was everytin fallin apart and den dere was all dis white." He gestures wide with his arms as if to show how big the 'white' was. "Den I wake up here and get jabbed in de neck wit sometin dat make me feel like goo."

He folds his arms and nods smartly. "Need t'get back t'dat room! Me comrades are still in dem pods, ya? Gotta get dem out!"

"You know. Thingummy, whosit, whatsamabob..." Wednesday gestures in vague, confusing ways.

"They're fine in there—and the ship will stop you if you try," he says a little lower. "You'd be better off working with the big brains on ways to get us rats out of this maze, if you're that dedicated to the idea."

His brow furrows and he watches the man's hands like a cat and a dangling bit of yarn.

Then he shakes his head to gather his focus back to the conversation. "I can't jus leave me tribe in dere! Dat would be like betrayin dem! I ain't nevah been witout me comrades b'fore!"

He is very against the idea of being alone and tribe-less, definitely adamant about it not happening.

Edited 2009-06-13 01:12 (UTC)

Wednesday shrugs. "Then go ahead and try—but at least get a feel for what's going on with the rest of us first. At least try and pretend to compromise."

"Not gonna be startin trouble for anyone. Just want me comrades back. Dat aint wrong, ya?" Cielo droops a bit. Didn't everyone else have tribe mates trapped in there? Why wouldn't they want to get them out before anything else?

He can already feel the atma aching and he rubs idly at his thigh, then for the countless time since he got shoved into the thing he tugs at the suit. He hates it. "What sorta compromise you want, mon?"

"Raise the issue publicly," Wednesday says with a little nod. "Pool your effort with anyone else interested in the matter. Then, at least, you won't be entirely wasting it..."

Cielo blinks, then smiles again and gives the man an exaggerated nod. He really isn't one for plan making, but tell him what to do and he can do it just fine. "Who're you den? Your tribe still stuck down dere too?"

"I, mm, call me Mr. Wednesday," the old man says, making a gesture as if to tip a phantom hat. "As for a tribe, what's left of my family doesn't particularly care for me—especially in note of recent events. And my brother wouldn't be caught dead in a trap like this."

"But dey you tribe, ya?" Cielo crosses his ankles and laces his fingers at the back of his neck. "Comrades are more important den anyting! Heat's done some stupid stuff but he's still our comrade. Just cuz dey might be upset don mead dey gonna always be, ya?"

Mr. Wednesday has just encountered Cielo's random ~~somewhat~~ useless talent number one. Friendship Speeches.

The old man lets out a dismissive snort. "If anyone counts as my comrade, it would be my brother—and those odds are so low I'll eat my hat if he shows up." Not that he actually has a hat.

His expression darkens. "Besides, it's been a damn long time since I've seen a hair of most of the rest of them."

He notes the lack of hat and that look and decides to step back from the subject for the moment. Old guy needs to smile! "So uh.." Cielo shifts his weight again and scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "

"Speakin' of eatin,' where dey be hidin de real food 'round here, eh?" He's praying that meat alone will be enough to keep him sated, even if it's not living any more. It should work, right?

Edited 2009-06-13 03:51 (UTC)

"Not really," Wednesday says with a frown—though it's rather less serious, this time. "And I didn't have the chance to take anything tasteful and easily-cooked back from that planet..."

"Not really?" That made him stand straighter. "What you mean not really?" He flails about comically. "Dere gotta be food here, ya?"

"There's something like oatmeal, but even less likeable." His face twists slightly in general unpleasantness. "Or you can use the Sensoriums—but it's the same stuff, it just makes you think it's something else."

Cielo just pauses and stares, blinking owlishly at Mr. Wednesday as he seems to go pale. What the hell is oatmeal? "Oh. Dis ain't good."

"Is something wrong?" the old man asks, quite amiably.

"You can say dat, mon. I gotta eat livin tings t'survive. Meat n'stuff." He looks a bit nervous, eyes darting to the other people around.

Wednesday asks quietly: "The substance, or the spirit?"

Strange old guy, isn't he?

"H-huh?" Strange indeed. "How you gonna be eatin' a spirit? Can't put dat in de mout'. Gotta eat de body, ya?"

"Call it a bit of curiosity about the need for living things in particular." His face twists a little. "In some cultures, you know, they say that eating the heart's blood devours the spirit as well..."

"Seriously?"

Cielo blinks, he really isn't sure how to feel about that. "Ever since we got de atma we gotta devour our enemies. Don't tink I ate anytin dat wasn't livin since den dat help de hunger."

He doesn't seem bothered by the concept at all, like it's normal everyday stuff to be talking about devouring the living.

Edited 2009-06-14 06:06 (UTC)

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