Why do we never get an answer when we're knocking at the door?
Characters: Nobody (notpaid2dodge), Gene-1 (live_ringer)
Date/Time: October 12, late afternoon/early evening
Location: Workshop Island
Rating: PG-ish?
Summary: Boys dig giant robots. Even if they can't completely remember them.
The rope bridge swayed slightly in the evening's light breeze as Gene crossed over to Workshop Island, map in hand.
"Guess I finally found the right one," he mused as he walked past the collection of sheds, peering at each for a sign of life. He really should have asked for directions, but at least this gave him a chance to think over what he was going to say. And what was that going to be, anyway? 'Hey, I don't have anything much to contribute, but I'm sure I've seen something like your robot things before'? On second thought, maybe he'd be better off winging the conversation bits, rather than trying to map something out.
After a bit of walking, the landscape started to change, if only slightly. The tiny sheds gave way to a large tent where people were bustling over various scraps of metal, plastic, and other Scrapyard brick-a-brack in an effort to make it into something useful. His luck would probably be best here. As he adjusted the contents of his satchel, bringing useful things like gears and bolts to the top while shoving the ridiculous rabbit-themed earmuffs Bastet had so 'generously' given him to the bottom, he could swear he heard music.
Date/Time: October 12, late afternoon/early evening
Location: Workshop Island
Rating: PG-ish?
Summary: Boys dig giant robots. Even if they can't completely remember them.
The rope bridge swayed slightly in the evening's light breeze as Gene crossed over to Workshop Island, map in hand.
"Guess I finally found the right one," he mused as he walked past the collection of sheds, peering at each for a sign of life. He really should have asked for directions, but at least this gave him a chance to think over what he was going to say. And what was that going to be, anyway? 'Hey, I don't have anything much to contribute, but I'm sure I've seen something like your robot things before'? On second thought, maybe he'd be better off winging the conversation bits, rather than trying to map something out.
After a bit of walking, the landscape started to change, if only slightly. The tiny sheds gave way to a large tent where people were bustling over various scraps of metal, plastic, and other Scrapyard brick-a-brack in an effort to make it into something useful. His luck would probably be best here. As he adjusted the contents of his satchel, bringing useful things like gears and bolts to the top while shoving the ridiculous rabbit-themed earmuffs Bastet had so 'generously' given him to the bottom, he could swear he heard music.