Dinner Rush (Active)

[gimmesometassel]

Character(s): Magic Carpet, Remy, Brain Gremlin, Mewtwo, and Sonic. @_@;;
Content: Okay, so, a rug, a rat, a cat, a hedgehog, and a gremlin walk into a bar restaurant.....
Setting: Cafe Eresatz (H4)
Time: Evening
Warnings: Random crack? Chaoticness? Man, I don't even know.....

After a hard day's work of searching the city, Carpet still had neither the

Comments

[civil_creature]

"My good fellow, I do believe that this unfortunate accent is trying to tell you something of some importance. The issue must be of some personal interest---otherwise the effort wouldn't've of lasted half as long."

This statement came from beside and below the cashier, where a small, suited, and rather reptilian figure was climbing to sit next to the register, pursuing a better view. Reaching the perch, he turned to watch with a marked interest of his own. "I'd like to apologize, but I didn't catch all of that. What came before 'aladdin?', if, carpet, you might be so kind as to repeat yourself?"

[rodentchef]

"I'm amazed you managed to pick up that much of it," said a voice from one of the nearby tables. The owner of the voice was actually standing on top of the table itself, next to a small plate loaded with a variety of bite-sized morsels - or rather, bite-sized by human standards. The dish contained more than enough food to satisfy the rat that was picking through the various offerings.

Remy nibbled the edge off a piece of carrot, watching the conversation with interest. It was an oddly familiar situation, except this time it was someone else trying to be understood and he was the one that was trying to figure it out. "Maybe it can write," he offered a suggestion. "You could try giving it a pen and paper."

[itshowiroll]

Sonic had been running all day trying to figure out where the city was, who was in charge, and how to get home, all with no success. It was only when the (fake, he noticed dourly) sun set that he realized he was hungry. Following his nose in hopes of finding food (possibly a chili dog, were he to be so lucky), he wasn't running for long before he came upon someplace where a lot of people were eating...and something in the air was...dancing, it looked like. Or something.

Looked like he was getting dinner and a show tonight.

He leaned against the patio railing, hunger momentarily forgotten as he watched what looked like a flying rug perform a few arial acrobatics. It was only when he tuned into the running commentary that he realized it was trying to communicate. Oops.

"What about those journal things?" he suggested. "They oughta work." Never mind that he barely knew how to make his function - there had to be somebody in here that could make one work well enough for the rug to use it.

[mewclone]

Mewtwo, meanwhile, had been minding his own business. Since losing sight of Roxas, he'd continued on his own, still somewhat amazed and more amused that the people of this place neither deemed him a threat or anything worthy of capture. At the same time, however, it was to be duly noted that they didn't know much more than that he simply existed, and were obviously far from caring about anything such as that, anyway.

The flashes of the carpet's acrobatics, however, caught the Pokémon's attention far easier than his watching the people wander by. After all, that was most of what he'd been doing the past days, and it all seemed to be the same.

It seems, he offered in his mindvoice, only to the carpet after it had stopped moving, that none of those who you've asked either understand or know the location of this Aladdin. I would suggest another method of interpretation. Becoming frustrated is not likely to help the situation.Of course, to the casual observer, there would be no voice, no movement. Mewtwo simply continued to sit at the

[gimmesometassel]

Carpet hovered in midair for a moment, some mixture of defeat and frustration stirring in the back of its mind; there was always something about the futility of trying to communicate beyond the simplest concepts that made him feel..... well, he wasn't exactly sure how to describe it. Not quite a person, perhaps, though that much was obvious just to look at him. It made him feel inferior and stupid, however intelligent he might be--for all his autonomy, free will, and independent thought, what else was there for him to do but let people ride on him and gesture to get his points across? That was made for, and that, really, seemed like all he was good for about now. He was a one-trick carpet, as it were. Even the Cave of Wonders could talk, and it was a largely immobile geological feature