Normally Holo was quite fond of this sweetened fruit concept, but this was unacceptable. She could make Lawrence wash the clothes, but cleaning her tail to her satisfaction took long and careful work, and if too many hairs were pulled out it would take weeks for it to grow back to its usual lushness. Not to mention that her very well-traveled nose couldn't even pick out what kind of fruit this jam was made of, which just added to her irritation.
And so she stalked out of the bizarre sticky room into an equally bizarre sticky hallway, looking for whatever fool was unfortunate or stupid enough to kidnap Holo the Wisewolf.
Eventually, having disentangled himself from the table that wasn't his desk, Light had got out into the corridor. Ryuk was being a pain - well, Ryuk was always a pain. You should taste it. Maybe it's apple jam. "I'm not tasting it, Ryuk. Are you sure you never heard of anywhere like this?" Course I'm sure. There's the shinigami realm, and the human realm, and nothing else. And this isn't either of them.
His socks squelched in the corridor's carpet, as he turned the corner, still murmuring to the shinigami. He could feel the sugar collecting between his toes, and - and- He stopped abruptly. What was that in front of him? A girl, with a wolf's tail, and ears, and - a cosplayer? On top of everything else?The flat stare he gave the wolf girl was quite possibly one of the least impressed he'd managed in his life, before he somehow managed a sour, apologetic smile. Usually, he'd be more outwardly pleasant than that; it was the thin layer of jam that was the problem. It still spiked his hair, and gleamed over half his face, and drew dust to
( ... )
Wandering around the empty jam-covered corridors and the various equally sticky rooms to find another individual, any other individual, felt like it took hours. Every step made a squelching noise that caused her ears flick for the sheer unpleasantness of it all. But eventually those very ears picked picked up another set of footfalls nearby, and soon after taking off towards the sound (nearly losing her shoes to the goo on the way) the fellow rounded the corner ahead of her.
And frankly, Holo was unimpressed. Just a skinny young male? He looked and smelled as though he'd never worked a day in his life, and the impudent stare did not help her impression. Neither did the smear of jam, really. (Although in that respect she likely didn't look any better.)
"Boy?" "You, boy?" This just gets better and better. It wasn't the tone that got his back up, not exactly; Light knew full well why why people might not be at their best after waking up in an unbearably sticky mess, and-
-why was Ryuk staring at her like that? He wasn't looking at her, not exactly; no, it was somewhere over her head, as if there was something entirely too interesting there-
Those ears. That tail. They weren't the costume they'd looked to be at a first glance, were they? Very carefully, Light pulled himself together, and prepared to indulge his curiosity. He needed information, after all. "Strange you should say that," he called, politely dishevelled, and just a bit curt. "I was about to ask you the same thing."
All in all, Light decided, he was having a bad day.
He hadn't got into the tower in any sort of exciting way. No, he'd fallen asleep at his desk (homework, nothing more), and when he'd woken - well, he'd been alerted to a problem by the texture of the table beneath his face. Some sort of rough wood, not the smooth melamine of his desk. Some sort of rough, sticky wood.
Was he dreaming? No, it couldn't be. His dreams were vivid enough - more so than his daily life, at times - but they didn't feel like this, sticky against his face and hands, and damp in his shirtsleeves, and the smell- And when he unglued his eyes - it's in my eyes, that's disgusting - the first thing he saw was Ryuk's idiot face grinning down at him. Still half-asleep, he pulled his mop of brown hair off the desk with an unimpressed squelch. "Did you do this?"
Wasn't me, Light, grinned the shinigami, invisible and inaudible to everyone else around. What's the matter? You don't like jam?
Azula was absolutely not amused. There were a lot of things that annoyed her. Waking up in a strange environment with absolutely no idea how she had gotten there was near the top of the list. Not being able to find a way out was even worse. She had been wandering around for about half an hour, and had eventually come to the conclusion that if she wanted to leave, she would have to be creative.
For the most part, the place seemed rather empty, and huge. Eventually, though, she knew she was bound to stumble across someone-- in her experience, places like this never just grabbed up only one person. Sure enough, as she pushed aside the curtain and peered into yet another room, she discovered that it had an occupant: a teenage boy.
And he appeared to be talking to himself. Great.
Walking over to him (or rather, squelching over to him, considering her shoes kept sticking in whatever the floor was made of), she cleared her throat loudly.
Light could quite happily have thrown a punch or two at Ryuk for that crack about jam, if not for the fact that the shinigami never let Light touch him. Besides, he'd cut off his murmured conversation as soon as he'd heard the curtain move.
The doleful glance back over his shoulder was rather as if his head was too heavy - weighted down by the jam, perhaps? His response sat there on the back of his tongue, ready to fly: You mean, apart from the self-evident fact that we're both stuck here in a puddle of jam? But he wouldn't ever let himself go like that. Instead, he did the girl the courtesy of seeming surprised, pulling both hands off the desk, with two quiet, sticky sounds. They hung in front of him as if he'd burned them.
"Ah, I'm afraid not, Miss-?"
It never hurt to be polite, after all, especially with someone this arrogant. They always showed themselves up, in the end.
"It's Fire Lord, actually-- Fire Lord Azula. You may call me Your Majesty if you prefer." It was always good to get that out of the way right off the bat; so many people seemed to think that it was perfectly okay to call someone of her position by solely their first name. Though this one seemed polite enough, at least-- perhaps he wouldn't give her any trouble.
"Have you ever been in a situation like this before? Being dragged away from your home with no explanation, that is." She hoped that he had; explaining this sort of thing to clueless people could get tiresome, and it would only waste time.
"Hey! Uzuki!" he called out as he squelched through yet another vaguely sticky floor. It smelt like a thousand berry bushes had gotten drunk and vomited all over the place. Kariya had a lot of questions (like who'd build a tower of jam in the first place) but...first things first. Find his partner, find a way out.
He squelched onward and...huh. Even his lollipop tasted wrong.
Comments 13
There was jam in her tail.
Normally Holo was quite fond of this sweetened fruit concept, but this was unacceptable. She could make Lawrence wash the clothes, but cleaning her tail to her satisfaction took long and careful work, and if too many hairs were pulled out it would take weeks for it to grow back to its usual lushness. Not to mention that her very well-traveled nose couldn't even pick out what kind of fruit this jam was made of, which just added to her irritation.
And so she stalked out of the bizarre sticky room into an equally bizarre sticky hallway, looking for whatever fool was unfortunate or stupid enough to kidnap Holo the Wisewolf.
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His socks squelched in the corridor's carpet, as he turned the corner, still murmuring to the shinigami. He could feel the sugar collecting between his toes, and - and- He stopped abruptly. What was that in front of him? A girl, with a wolf's tail, and ears, and - a cosplayer? On top of everything else?The flat stare he gave the wolf girl was quite possibly one of the least impressed he'd managed in his life, before he somehow managed a sour, apologetic smile. Usually, he'd be more outwardly pleasant than that; it was the thin layer of jam that was the problem. It still spiked his hair, and gleamed over half his face, and drew dust to ( ... )
Reply
And frankly, Holo was unimpressed. Just a skinny young male? He looked and smelled as though he'd never worked a day in his life, and the impudent stare did not help her impression. Neither did the smear of jam, really. (Although in that respect she likely didn't look any better.)
"You, boy. Did you bring me here?"
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-why was Ryuk staring at her like that? He wasn't looking at her, not exactly; no, it was somewhere over her head, as if there was something entirely too interesting there-
Those ears. That tail. They weren't the costume they'd looked to be at a first glance, were they? Very carefully, Light pulled himself together, and prepared to indulge his curiosity. He needed information, after all. "Strange you should say that," he called, politely dishevelled, and just a bit curt. "I was about to ask you the same thing."
Reply
He hadn't got into the tower in any sort of exciting way. No, he'd fallen asleep at his desk (homework, nothing more), and when he'd woken - well, he'd been alerted to a problem by the texture of the table beneath his face. Some sort of rough wood, not the smooth melamine of his desk. Some sort of rough, sticky wood.
Was he dreaming? No, it couldn't be. His dreams were vivid enough - more so than his daily life, at times - but they didn't feel like this, sticky against his face and hands, and damp in his shirtsleeves, and the smell- And when he unglued his eyes - it's in my eyes, that's disgusting - the first thing he saw was Ryuk's idiot face grinning down at him. Still half-asleep, he pulled his mop of brown hair off the desk with an unimpressed squelch. "Did you do this?"
Wasn't me, Light, grinned the shinigami, invisible and inaudible to everyone else around. What's the matter? You don't like jam?
Reply
For the most part, the place seemed rather empty, and huge. Eventually, though, she knew she was bound to stumble across someone-- in her experience, places like this never just grabbed up only one person. Sure enough, as she pushed aside the curtain and peered into yet another room, she discovered that it had an occupant: a teenage boy.
And he appeared to be talking to himself. Great.
Walking over to him (or rather, squelching over to him, considering her shoes kept sticking in whatever the floor was made of), she cleared her throat loudly.
"Do you have any idea what's going on here?"
Reply
The doleful glance back over his shoulder was rather as if his head was too heavy - weighted down by the jam, perhaps? His response sat there on the back of his tongue, ready to fly: You mean, apart from the self-evident fact that we're both stuck here in a puddle of jam? But he wouldn't ever let himself go like that. Instead, he did the girl the courtesy of seeming surprised, pulling both hands off the desk, with two quiet, sticky sounds. They hung in front of him as if he'd burned them.
"Ah, I'm afraid not, Miss-?"
It never hurt to be polite, after all, especially with someone this arrogant. They always showed themselves up, in the end.
Reply
"Have you ever been in a situation like this before? Being dragged away from your home with no explanation, that is." She hoped that he had; explaining this sort of thing to clueless people could get tiresome, and it would only waste time.
Reply
"Hey! Uzuki!" he called out as he squelched through yet another vaguely sticky floor. It smelt like a thousand berry bushes had gotten drunk and vomited all over the place. Kariya had a lot of questions (like who'd build a tower of jam in the first place) but...first things first. Find his partner, find a way out.
He squelched onward and...huh. Even his lollipop tasted wrong.
Reply
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