The Bitterness of an Unplanned Vacation [Active]
Character(s): Godot and anybody who happens along.
Content: Godot finally shows up-- wait's over!
Setting: Joutenheim Gate and surrounding area
Time: Late evening.
Warnings: Cursing?
Of course, the judge Godot usually worked with often bought a lot of far-fetched things, but lying witnesses, quadruple accidental murders and even the usual nutcases on the stand paled in comparison to trying to explain away the fact that you were standing in the middle of a field in the middle of the night and you had no idea how you'd gotten there.
Godot took a moment to survey his surroundings and go back over the events of the day so far. He'd left court at about four in the afternoon. He'd gone to visit the doctor. He'd driven over to his favorite cafe and was well into his tenth cup of coffee when his visor had begun to malfunction. Or at least, he thought it was his visor, but from the way he'd fallen backwards and hit the floor he'd decided that the flickering must have come from the part where he passed out and fallen much, much farther than he was pretty sure the floor went.
And, well, here he was. The coffee cup was still clutched in his fist but it had apparently been a rough landing, as the scalding hot beverage had spilled and was dripping down his hand. "Damn," he muttered, and made the decision to head over to that gate where all the other people were standing. Somebody had to know what was going on. He finished off the last of the coffee and took his place in line. Sometimes Godot waited too.
"Welcome to Paixao!" an entirely overenthusiastic guard shouted as he approached the front of the line.
"Bless you," Godot said evenly. "Whenever lost and tangled in the bleak webs of mystery and suspicion, a man always stops and asks for directions. That's one of my rules. Would you mind telling me what's going on?"
"It'll all be explained in these pamphlets, sir," the guard handed over a small pile of pamphlets, maps and informational brochures, including a thick electronic journal. "May I please have your name?"
"Godot," Godot answered.
"Gobo what?"
"It's Godot. Go-Doh. And that's all." He took a long sip from his refilled mug. "And how would somebody see about getting out of here?"
"Oh, people all find their own ways out of Paixao," the guard explained. "All the initial information you need'll be on the screen of that little thing there."
Godot flipped open the journal and examined it, mystified for a very long moment before finally handing it back. "Can I get one without a red screen?"
The guard traded him out for another one.
"Beautiful," Godot murmured as he stepped through the gate. Trapped in a weird alternate... city... world thingamajigger with a trial to go to tomorrow morning and no vacation days scheduled. Splendid. Absolutely splendid.
"Eh, could be fun," he said to himself as he took in his first glimpse of the city proper. But first things first. He needed to find another cafe.
Content: Godot finally shows up-- wait's over!
Setting: Joutenheim Gate and surrounding area
Time: Late evening.
Warnings: Cursing?
Of course, the judge Godot usually worked with often bought a lot of far-fetched things, but lying witnesses, quadruple accidental murders and even the usual nutcases on the stand paled in comparison to trying to explain away the fact that you were standing in the middle of a field in the middle of the night and you had no idea how you'd gotten there.
Godot took a moment to survey his surroundings and go back over the events of the day so far. He'd left court at about four in the afternoon. He'd gone to visit the doctor. He'd driven over to his favorite cafe and was well into his tenth cup of coffee when his visor had begun to malfunction. Or at least, he thought it was his visor, but from the way he'd fallen backwards and hit the floor he'd decided that the flickering must have come from the part where he passed out and fallen much, much farther than he was pretty sure the floor went.
And, well, here he was. The coffee cup was still clutched in his fist but it had apparently been a rough landing, as the scalding hot beverage had spilled and was dripping down his hand. "Damn," he muttered, and made the decision to head over to that gate where all the other people were standing. Somebody had to know what was going on. He finished off the last of the coffee and took his place in line. Sometimes Godot waited too.
"Welcome to Paixao!" an entirely overenthusiastic guard shouted as he approached the front of the line.
"Bless you," Godot said evenly. "Whenever lost and tangled in the bleak webs of mystery and suspicion, a man always stops and asks for directions. That's one of my rules. Would you mind telling me what's going on?"
"It'll all be explained in these pamphlets, sir," the guard handed over a small pile of pamphlets, maps and informational brochures, including a thick electronic journal. "May I please have your name?"
"Godot," Godot answered.
"Gobo what?"
"It's Godot. Go-Doh. And that's all." He took a long sip from his refilled mug. "And how would somebody see about getting out of here?"
"Oh, people all find their own ways out of Paixao," the guard explained. "All the initial information you need'll be on the screen of that little thing there."
Godot flipped open the journal and examined it, mystified for a very long moment before finally handing it back. "Can I get one without a red screen?"
The guard traded him out for another one.
"Beautiful," Godot murmured as he stepped through the gate. Trapped in a weird alternate... city... world thingamajigger with a trial to go to tomorrow morning and no vacation days scheduled. Splendid. Absolutely splendid.
"Eh, could be fun," he said to himself as he took in his first glimpse of the city proper. But first things first. He needed to find another cafe.