043 ± [voice / location: the hedge maze] funny as hell but no one laughs when they get there
"Hey everyone. Um. I don't know if it's just me or if there's a Thing but I think dreams may be coming true in really inconvenient ways. You might wanna try not sleeping, if at all possible, or have someone keep an eye on you if you do or something. And...yeah, I'm gonna need some help here."
Here was a roughly four-foot by four-foot space at the ( Read more... )
Here was a roughly four-foot by four-foot space at the ( Read more... )
Cherri's staring at the tablet intently. Wherever he is is rather dark itself, but the spiky haired killjoy's face is illuminated for a split second as he strikes a match, lighting a corn-cob pipe he had the wonders of taking out of a snowman earlier.
"And Jack Frost is nippin' at your toes~" He's grinning now, sing-song a falsetto, but in a moment he's wiped it away and his face remains a careful neutral.
"You know," his words are casual, flippant. "You're probably going to die if no one helps you right away. S'freezing."
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"Kinda noticed," he remarked, trying for flippant although he suspected he was shivering too hard to pull it off. He began...not pacing since there wasn't room for it, but walking around the little space to try and keep warm. The action was familiar in forgotten ways and he frowned.
"Don't think I'll be dying, though, my friends are on their way and...well, I've survived worse."
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"We've all survived worse." He reaches up, scratching his nose, watching the other shiver and taking a puff of his pipe.
"When you die, can I have your jacket?"
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"My jacket?" How he wished he had the tattered and now scorched and (if one knew were to look) bloodstained thing. It wouldn't have provided much in the way of warmth but but oh, the sentimental comfort. "Sure, soon as I get out of here I-I'll edit my will. What name should I put down?"
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Cherri pauses, tilts his head to the side, and then an odd, lazy, cat-like grin spreads across his face. He's either planning something or has just thought of something, and the fact that his voice is trying to sound as casual as it can is just a sign of that.
"So, how long 'till you die, you think?"
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"Oh, probably not for another fifty, sixty...annuals." Let's hear it for that Ozian constitution.
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"Well~ Thank god you have friends then. Wouldn't want to spoil your long reign of jacket-dom. Pity. I was looking forward to that lookin' all snappy-dress all up in here." He twists something around his neck--for some reason, he's found a toy, plushed snake and is using it like a boa, and takes a few puffs on his pipe, eyebrows raising.
"Is there anything in there, zipper boy? I can't tell if you're stuttering because it's cold of because there's no bats in the belltower. Do bats live in the belltower? I think they do. Or was it belfry... What's a belfry? Wait--what are bats, really? Tiny mice with wings?"
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He tried not to focus too hard on what Cherri was saying but his particular sort of rambling was familiar. One topic, a million streams all vying for attention, gotta touch on all of them gotta say what's in your head before it goes away--
"Pretty much," he said lightly, addressing the tablet with a curious expression. "Although they're not really mice, or rodents at all, and they can live in belltowers or belfries - which is a sort of belltower - or caves or under bridges and where I'm from they can be monkeys. The point is..." And he grinned toothily, leaning in closer. "My head's full to bursting. And it's cold down here. That enough answers for ya, sunshine?"
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"And my name's Cherri, I'd appreciate if at least..Well, actually, I don't really care what you call me. Names are stupid." It's the honest truth and he narrows his eyes.
"Not enough answers in the world, Glitchy." But Cherri's grin matches the others, folding his hands together. "Batty-watty's or not, your friends better come soon."
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