Mutiny on Board
Title: Mutiny on Board
'Verse: Psychomachia
Rating: none
Author’s Notes: I realized I rarely update with the original fiction that I write. This is a scene from Psychomachia, a universe guiltycross and I are creating. They're pretty much the exact same characters as in LSD, with a few modifications. Because we love our characters, and they work in just about any setting.
The crew of the Cerulean was situated around the dining table. Keith had called a meeting, which didn’t really happen all that often. Mostly everyone just did their own thing, passed along messages if they needed it. So the fact that there was, in fact, a meeting going on should have meant all those participating would be paying apt attention.
It was not so. Chris was busying himself doing a caricature of Ty, tip of his tongue revealed between his teeth as he focused on the sketch in his lap. He chuckled to himself, frowned at Ty, and directed him to turn his chin ever so slightly to the left. Ty, meanwhile, was posing for the portrait with utter seriousness devoted to his modeling. Laurie, on the opposite side of the table, had her head ducked over a small device of some sort, tools scattered all around, tinkering with the parts. George’s attention was focused on a news article on Port Atlantis’s latest security.
“Okay,” Keith began, quite calmly, as it were. “I don’t know how it happened. But this place has become a mess. While normally I wouldn’t mind it, we’re startin’ to lose inventory because of it. So this weekend’s project is gettin’ this place in shape.”
Chris paused in his sketch, his head whipping up, jaw dropping open slightly. “Wait. You mean… clean?” From his mouth, the word was dirtier than a curse. His face had twisted, as though he’d tasted something sour.
“Yeah, Chris. I mean clean.”
He had everyone’s attention now. George had placed the article aside, Ty had broken his pose, and Laurie’s tools were motionless in her hands. They all looked aghast at the very idea of having to do something as mundane as clean. And, if they took a look around the Basement, it was a project none of them really felt ambitious enough to tackle.
“But Keith, I was gonna work on this this weekend,” Laurie protested, gesturing down to the little mechanism in her hand. The smudge of grease on her forehead wrinkled as she pouted.
“You’ll have to put it off. We all need to pitch in and get this done. And I mean it.” Keith looked around the table sternly, his tone severe.
Chris exchanged a knowing glance with Ty. “Mutiny?” he suggested casually.
“Mutiny,” Ty affirmed. They began to rise from their seats, fully prepared to disregard Keith’s command.
“No supper tonight,” George interjected smoothly. “Or tomorrow. Or until you two get cleanin’.”
The boys’ faces fell. They looked at one another again, speaking in ways they never seemed to have to voice.
“I guess we can mutiny another time,” Chris grumbled.
Keith grinned. “Great. You have bathroom duty.”
“WHAT?!”
'Verse: Psychomachia
Rating: none
Author’s Notes: I realized I rarely update with the original fiction that I write. This is a scene from Psychomachia, a universe guiltycross and I are creating. They're pretty much the exact same characters as in LSD, with a few modifications. Because we love our characters, and they work in just about any setting.
The crew of the Cerulean was situated around the dining table. Keith had called a meeting, which didn’t really happen all that often. Mostly everyone just did their own thing, passed along messages if they needed it. So the fact that there was, in fact, a meeting going on should have meant all those participating would be paying apt attention.
It was not so. Chris was busying himself doing a caricature of Ty, tip of his tongue revealed between his teeth as he focused on the sketch in his lap. He chuckled to himself, frowned at Ty, and directed him to turn his chin ever so slightly to the left. Ty, meanwhile, was posing for the portrait with utter seriousness devoted to his modeling. Laurie, on the opposite side of the table, had her head ducked over a small device of some sort, tools scattered all around, tinkering with the parts. George’s attention was focused on a news article on Port Atlantis’s latest security.
“Okay,” Keith began, quite calmly, as it were. “I don’t know how it happened. But this place has become a mess. While normally I wouldn’t mind it, we’re startin’ to lose inventory because of it. So this weekend’s project is gettin’ this place in shape.”
Chris paused in his sketch, his head whipping up, jaw dropping open slightly. “Wait. You mean… clean?” From his mouth, the word was dirtier than a curse. His face had twisted, as though he’d tasted something sour.
“Yeah, Chris. I mean clean.”
He had everyone’s attention now. George had placed the article aside, Ty had broken his pose, and Laurie’s tools were motionless in her hands. They all looked aghast at the very idea of having to do something as mundane as clean. And, if they took a look around the Basement, it was a project none of them really felt ambitious enough to tackle.
“But Keith, I was gonna work on this this weekend,” Laurie protested, gesturing down to the little mechanism in her hand. The smudge of grease on her forehead wrinkled as she pouted.
“You’ll have to put it off. We all need to pitch in and get this done. And I mean it.” Keith looked around the table sternly, his tone severe.
Chris exchanged a knowing glance with Ty. “Mutiny?” he suggested casually.
“Mutiny,” Ty affirmed. They began to rise from their seats, fully prepared to disregard Keith’s command.
“No supper tonight,” George interjected smoothly. “Or tomorrow. Or until you two get cleanin’.”
The boys’ faces fell. They looked at one another again, speaking in ways they never seemed to have to voice.
“I guess we can mutiny another time,” Chris grumbled.
Keith grinned. “Great. You have bathroom duty.”
“WHAT?!”