fh_trips | Special Collections, Sunday Morning and Afternoon

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bde fall 2011: the nothing

Special Collections, Sunday Morning and Afternoon

Morning came with soft pink twilight filtering in past the toadstools, and a light drizzle of rain that might not be entirely well-received. The camp at the foot of the giant toadstools had been left undisturbed that night, reasonably warm and quiet, as if Special Collections was trying to make up for weeks of sleeplessness on the Fandomites' end.

That kind front only stuck to the camp, though. A little further off, towards the entrance they had taken to get there in the first place, more and more black cracks were materializing before they fizzled away again.

[[ ~~wait for the~~ ocd up! ]]

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... is now a mess of tents and other sleeping places underneath the toadstools, with some fire pits in the middle for those needing a little more heat.

The fire in the pits had fizzled down as night went on, but the logs were still in place, and fires could easily be reignited.

Maybe you've gone to sleep slumped against a bookcase. Maybe you're hanging around your tent. Either way, there's plenty of room for anyone to make some space for themselves.

[[ consider this the special collections equivalent of your hotel post. Location in the subjectline ('Ender's Tent', 'Topher's Claimed Corner By The Bookcase', etc) and keep any sexytiems to personal journals. Feel free to set up a post and then link it back here. ]]

Unpredictable and dangerous, Special Collections was still happy to snatch the odd person and dump them somewhere strange.

From a lovely guide to the flora and fauna of Pandora (http://james-camerons-avatar.wikia.com/wiki/Pandora) filed in Special Collections to keep would-be poachers at bay hails... well, Pandora, full of snake-dogs and other mysterious fauna that might be trying to eat you.

Meanwhile, the guide to Monkey Island (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monkey_Island_(series)) was probably filed down here for being disproportionately silly. Be wary if you wander into this one.

For some reason, Special Collection doesn't quite tire of racing around on big light bikes, though at this point it's more likely to give you a light suit and then leaving you to squirm amongst the programs and the eerie electronic city (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tron).

*flops*

Peter was here, cooking a sausage over the fire. Okay, the sausage was one of those gas station pickled sausage affairs and didn't strictly need to be cooked, but he found it calmed him somewhat.

His annoyance at Jono was starting to wear off enough that he was actually considering going around trying to keep people motivated, which was HIS IDEA and not Jono's, thank you very much.

But for now: sausage.

"Are there any more of those?"

Natalie had been surviving the last 24 hours or so mostly on chocolate and sheer stubborn willpower because she simply hadn't been hungry. But, she'd also survived both a bickering D&D game and a couple of hours in the labyrinth last night. It was time to consider eating something.

Mr. Moxy flopped down at her feet as she took a seat on a log near Peter.

Phoebe hadn't gotten much rest, but was sitting in front of her and Cole's tent. She had pulled out a notebook and pen and was writing in it.

She kept looking around with interest that might not be a very good thing. She was running on enough sleep deprivation that she was getting really curious about Special Collections and where they were.

Look, when else would she get a chance to explore the place?

"I bought a three-pack last time I went to visit my parents," Peter said. Being Peter, he evaluated whether or not sharing with her would work in his favor, then decided that 1) keeping his fellows here fed probably meant a better chance of getting out of this, and 2) so far, Natalie seemed like someone useful, so he reached into his pocket and passed her the second one.

"Thank you." Mr. Moxy looked up at food changing hands, but he had already been fed so he wasn't interested for long. "You seem to be holding up pretty well."

Not that she'd been expecting him to start publicly falling apart, anyway.

No, besides a hissy thrown at Jono yesterday, but that would've registered more as public bitching than actual falling apart.

"Well, the battle hasn't been fought and lost yet," he pointed out. "And we're alive. That accounts for something."

But Special Collections has a lot more up its sleeve...

[[ ping in here with your adventures in other places. it's also fine to link to a post in your own journal. ]]

"I suppose so," Natalie allowed mildly. "And we haven't lost all collective hope yet, either." A pause. "People still feel it matters whether they punch Topher or not, and everything."

"As I keep saying, ad nauseum," Peter replied, "Punching Topher is an inevitability in every woman's life. Why she does it will determine what kind of mettle she's made of."

Well, okay, he'd only just made that up, but it sounded credible to him.

"I'm still yet to really feel the urge," Natalie drawled. "But Karla did last night and I sort of gathered it wasn't a first. Jonothon wanted to but he got a grip on himself before he did."

D&D: a peaceful game.

"But that's what I mean," Peter pointed out. "When he finally finds that button that will finally draw you into the inexorable rage that leads to disfiguring Topher's face with your fist, you'll know what's truly important to you."

Beat.

"Or at least what can coax you into hitting someone who probably has some kind of social disorder."

Edited 2011-12-11 12:53 (UTC)

"We'll see," she said. "Though he should hope we don't because he might lose his head entirely if he ever gets to me that much."

She'd gathered she was maybe stronger than average, by Fandom's standards.

Peter snapped his fingers. "We'll ask him to build some face armor," he said, "That'll do the trick."

He pulled his food out of the fire. It looked slightly blackened at the edges. "You seem fairly chill, too," he said. "Did Dungeons and Dragons work its magic on you?"

"Well, no one ragged on my looks or tried to get me into a fight about imaginary horses," Natalie replied, oh so dryly. "It was a good distraction, I guess. But then I got lost in a Greek labyrinth, like some Riordan character."

It had seemed over the last few days that being tired and stressed out made her get more meta.

"It was annoying. But I don't want that to be one my of my last experiences so I'm choosing to believe this'll work out."

Edited 2011-12-11 13:18 (UTC)

"Well, right now, you've already progressed to the much more benign experience of having food over a fire in the middle of a completely impossible toadstool forest," Peter said, taking a bite from the sausage. "So I think you dodged that bullet."

She levelled a look at him. "I don't want this to be one of the last, either."

Because this was ridiculous.

"I didn't realise my company was so offensive to you," Peter joked, "Guess I must've misinterpreted that."

What? As far as 'keeping spirits up' went, Natalie didn't seem the type to be overly sensitive to rousing speeches.

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Page 1 of 4

Special Collections, Sunday Morning and Afternoon

Base Camp

Base Camp - Common Area

Base Camp - Tents and Secluded Areas

Special Collections

Special Collections - Pandora

Special Collections - Monkey Island

Special Collections - TRON

OOC

Re: Base Camp - Common Area

Re: Base Camp - Common Area

Re: Base Camp - Tents and Secluded Areas - Phoebe and Cole's Tent

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Re: Base Camp - Common Area

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Special Collections - Everywhere Else

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Re: Base Camp - Common Area

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Re: Base Camp - Common Area