2023.04.21 Pan-Goat-ual
| 04.21.23 Pan-Goat-ual | |
|---|---|
| A trip to Saturn’s moon Pan to obtain a stone for the orrery ends up in drunkenness, talking a goat into romance, and playing wingman to a God. | |
| IC Date | 04.21.23 |
| Players | Branton, Irsa, Iris, Trey |
| Location | The SPACE BOAT |
| Spheres | Garou, Bastet, Sorcerer |
Space Boat - Low Earth Orbit
Space. The final frontier. Hanging in low earth orbit within the Aetherial realm is this patchwork ship. It looks like a gigantic child smashed several kinds of earthly ships together and forced them to be a single object. Many floored and wrapped in balconies like a paddle boat, spiked with massive masts like a galley, it could hold a small village worth of folk aboard it comfortably. The ship is outfitted for long voyages away from home, and crewed almost entirely by spirits. There's a glass enclosed garden to produce food that's overseen by Sun and Water and tended by plant Naturae. A Lounge is available for drinks and food, with tables, beanbag chairs, and of course a karaoke machine that is jealously guarded and powered by an Electricity elemental. A section of the lounge has been built entirely of glass, so that one can sing and dance amongst the stars without getting lost in them. The bridge is dominated by bizarre devices of umbral exploration, from a bejeweled armillary sphere for steering to consoles of mounted maps and strange navigational devices. There aren't intercoms on the ship, but there are large mouthed lizards that yell the captain's orders across the ship when needed. A pennon waves at the highest point of the ship, and it's sails are huge, marvelous things of red and gold, black and silver. A small row boat kept at the stern provides a quick and automated way to get to a planet's surface and back again.
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Branton comes out on deck with a mug of coffee and no bed head on account of being as bald as an egg "I figure we're fine since no one's screaming. But thought I’d ask..." he pauses to take a slurp before saying "Da Fuq?"
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"Yeah, I gotta say I agree with that." Mercy says about their Yowl review. "One of these days I have to go there on *purpose* and get him to hunt with me so I can get a rock from him, given willingly. That's the pain in the ass part, I cant just *grab* a rock, I have to ask and get it handed *to* me by the ruler of the realm." With the appearance of Branton she gets all O.O at him. "Oh goddess! I didn't know you were still *here*! You didn't get blown up, did you?? We had to rush through Rorg's asteroid belt! Oooooh man, you remember last time, right? Except no one actively challenged Rorg to a punching contest this time. WAY smaller holes in the boat."
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"I'd give it a solid one, just 'cause it showed us th' value of teamwork under fire," Neanderthal-Irsa adds to the Umbral Yelp review. She cracks her neck from side to side to work out a kink. "Heya, Branton. I like th' mug you got there." She does a double-take at Mercy's remarks about hunting with Rorg. "Will he do that, after we pissed him off? I.. oh, right. He probably won't even remember after he gets over th' foamin' and ranting."
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Treads-on-Thin-Ice has Spiky Cat Crinos Fur, probably from being scared shitless by oncoming rocks not too long ago. He smooths the top of his head down a little, at least, and chuckles, smearing a little blue paint onto his fuzzy cheek. "Oh... ho, that would be harder. If you could trick someone into being prey, that could work." Sounds like a cat, all right. Just like the one who walked across my keyboard and erased my first pose. "Yeah, that's true, teamwork makes the dream work, right?," he agrees, "And yeah, he'll forget. It's like how you forget the fly you swat." He grins at Branton and waggles a sokto paw at the end of a crinos arm. WTF? Who knows?
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Branton looks down to see which mug he grabbed and grins, its an obviously handmade one painted in swirls of different colors and he explains "Pink was super excited to have finally made one that would hold liquid. So it got moved into the lounge so people could actually use it." Trey's shifting oddities don't even get a blink, Branton's seen weirder. Mercy though "So you're just going to be extra friendly and charming and talk to him before I start swearing like I did at Ares."
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"Yeah- well... I mean... It might actually be better if I just go in scrreaming and doing the 'I want to hunt and kill something' vibe. I think he'd respond well to that! Miiiiiight need to some how convince a Red Talon to come with us. He really only seems to like them, but I bet if we cant find one willing to go, that I MIGHT possibly be able to... you know. Not get crushed by a rock. But uh, later. When friends are more durable."
While everyone calms down and gets their banter on, while some extra repares are made and such, time scoots by a little and we avoid the betwee-planet lul of omg, space is so empty and boring. So now we get to our destination, Saturn! Pale blue, deep purple, snowy white, the gas giant shines like an embodiment of sky from dawn to dusk. Its halo of rings have small gaps between them, like the grooves of a record, and they glitter gold and silver and grey in the distant light of helios. Her many moons float tiny and almost insignificant around her, making her rings, well, ring as they pull with their own minute gravity. It makes a song in space, like an alien orchestra where everyone plays harps and bells.
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"How's he do with lupus?" Irsa asks her Elder. "We got a wolf who'd probably be down t' go with, if you wanna hit her up at th' Mall. She's Ahroun, so she'd be down t' roll." She tilts her head back to watch the heavens as they sail onwards. "Don't blame ya for wantin' to stay here as much as you do. This is real, real pretty."
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Treads-on-Thin-Ice says, with a little smile, "You two are like... the most wholesome parents ever. And that's awesome." The description of the prior visit brings his vibrissae up in a weird brow-like gesture. He chuckles at Iris' assessment. "It could work, in the 'misery loves company' type of way."
Time passes! Trey's been helping with repairs, and has swiped some of the coffee from the galley, because coffee. He's back well in time for the Saturn approach, finding a spot to lean his catself and beam at the sheer gorgeousness of the giant planet and its haloes. "Oh wow, listen," he breathes, and even he is quiet to hear the strange atmospheric song of Saturn. Holst, eat your damn heart out.
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Branton has been pitching in on the repair front. Using all his different tools and talents to help things along. When something large and unwieldly can be held in place with telekinesis rather than four dudes on a block and tackle things can go quicker. When on approach to Saturn though he finds himself somewhere to pause so he can listen and smile.
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Mercy grins at Trey, buuuut there's a little guilt in the smile. A Garou having a metis for a kid isn't easy, and it comes with a crap ton of emotional baggage. She probably hasn't been the best mom, but she does try. "Very nice job on your course plotting, by the way, you got us exactly where we were supposed to be." she tells Trey. But now that they're here, she takes over on the steering, not heading for the actual gas giant, but instead towards one of its teenier moons. The moon she's headed for is almost shaped like Saturn itself, kind of squashed rather than fully spherical, and its equator bulges sharply out, as if in imitation of Saturn's rings. In the physical world, this thing is spinning ridiculously fast, and is just a lumpy, barren rock. In the umbra, though, it's rather green colored, and looks pretty bushy with alien plant life.
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Primal Figure heads to the prow of the ship to get a better bead on the approaching moon. "Now that's wild. What's this one called?" she asks Mercy. "I didn't know they could get so green, like this one."
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Treads-on-Thin-Ice notes the momentary flicker of *something* in Mercy's smile, but he isn't going to try and get it out of her right here and now. "Thank you," he says, warm as always, "Oooh, is this Pan? It would make sense, look at the greenery... it's gorgeous." A pause. "I gotta start collecting samples of Umbral weed. Like, something from every planet we visit. But then I'd need a greenhouse, huh. I mean..." He's about to expound, but thinks better of it. It does happen, sometimes. "It kinda looks like a big ravioli with pesto."
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"That is, in fact, Pan." Iris says with a smile, bringing them in close where they can row boat down to the surface. She takes a deeeeeeeep breath though and lets it out, muttering, "This is gonna suuuuuuck." to herself before applying the e-break and herding folk towards the dingy for descent. Now, here's where it gets surreal.
The plant life, as they get down to the surface, is shades of green and purple, and while it's similar to early flora, it's still quite different. These trees do not exist on earth, those flowering bushes were never real to human eyes. The green-purple meadows are dotted with strange flowers that glow like starlight. There are no birds, but you know what there *is*? Goats. So. Many. Goats. All kinds of breeds, earthy and non, just... fucking goats everywhere. The singular dominant life form on the moon's umbral side. Mercy visibly shudders. Once they're down there, she says, "Gimme a minute..." and sits down to meditate and learn the laws of the realm.
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Branton quirks an eyebrow at his mate as he settles into dinghy for the descent and then he ahs and explains to the others "We've never been here before and getting this gift in tune with a new realm is always a little...rough."
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"I hear that," Irsa says to Trey with a smirk. "Shouldn't be too hard t' build somethin' like that, when you get a rank or two under your belt." Once the group has landed, she stops in her tracks, looking around and keeping her hands to herself. "Yeah, I ain't gonna do nothin' for a bit. Last time I was in a Realm, it was th' Battleground. Learnin' the rules there from direct contact sucked."
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Treads-on-Thin-Ice looks around him, wide-eyed, and says, "That's... a lotta goats." The weird flora don't seem to bother him, though he's quickly sketching a few of them in his notebook -- maybe to match them up to something, or to remember later? "This is a lot like some of the things I've seen in the Dreaming, though... haven't had a lot of exploring there, just abit here and there on a trod -- a faerie-path, like a moonpath." Then he stops, and just looks around him, inhaling, smiling a toothy smile. "An umbral greenhouse sounds like something I'd want in my Den Realm," he says with a smile. "And lots of interesting plants." He winces at Irsa's declaration. "I want to go there sometime, but... I can see why you might not want to repeat the process."
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"Well, it ain't entirely a bad place, if ya go in knowing what you're gonna get into," Irsa replies to Trey. "I didn't have th' first clue, which was kinda a part of th' Challenge: I had t' figure it out by myself." She lets out a huff of breath. "But that's a story for another time, we got our own good story right here in th' making. I've never seen nothin' like this before. Goats? I'm guessin' they're Pan's brood. I mean, what else could they be? I'm itching to check out these plants, but uh.. yeah. I'm gonna wait on Iris for that one." Primal Figure shifts down to homid while she's speaking, no need to be big right now.
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Bones snap and break, shrinking and shaping into a new form. The creature before you becomes a dark, scarred woman.
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Branton hmms and nods "I haven't been there. I can see how it would be a rough from what I've heard." Then to Trey he says "If you need some supplies I know a guy. Of all kinds of supplies really."
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Trey realizes he's the odd cat out, and shrugs, shifting down to Homid again. He chuckles and says, "Yeah.... unexpected, that could be... yeah. I think that would mess me up." He quirks her a grin. "At least for an hour or so. And yeah, I think they're Pan's -- wonder if there's satyrs here. I wonder if they're like faerie satyrs." He looks over to Branton and says, "Oh, that would be awesome, yeah -- when I start looking at doing that, I will definitely talk to you first." He huhs and considers something. "So here's a question. Is there still a boatload of money to be made in social media if you go virus?" He meant viral, probably.
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Eventually Mercy gets up off the grass and HUFFS! as she starts stripping off her clothes. "Garments in the boat, people! No pants allowed." She doesn't say what happens if you go ahead and wear pants through the realm, though. It makes sense though, Pan's not really a pants wearing sort of dude, more of a run around naked as a half goat sort of dude. "No eating the goats, vegetarian only while here, no matter HOW drunk you get. Cause... We're gonna get seriously fucked up, this place doesn't work right when you're sober." It seems normal enough, though. A herd of pigmy goats goes tear-assing by while Mercy's getting down to her skin and chucking duds in the dingy, all her vivisection scars on display, which she's not super happy about. "Alright, let's go find Pan!"
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Trey says, “Awww, man, but I love these pants." He shrugs and sighs, then starts to strip down. He looks about like what would be expected -- ruddy-skinned, no visible scars yet, largish hands and feet, lean build. He's not really buff, more lithe, though the beginning of definition is there. Must be all the adventuring. He tucks his clothes back into the boat, but brings the knapsack. He has all the self-consciousness of a rabid toddler... or a cat. Which is to say, none. "All good.”
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Branton shrugs and sheds his trousers, leaving his briefs on unless his mate tells him not to. He also pauses before putting his boots back on "Is there a footwear prohibition as well? Heck, I'd have packed a toga if I'd thought about it. Have to put a note about it in the travel guide."
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Mercy brings her Bigass Purse also, cant go places without your packs! "Sorry baby, gotta go full monty in the land of tits and wine." she tells Branton apologetically, but then considers and says, "I actually did not get any impression about shoes, I bet you could wear your boots and be fine." Once they're all buck nekkid and buck wild, Iris points in a direction that seems random and says, "This'a way!" and starts marching in that direction. This is a VERY tiny moon, so it's not going to take long at all before they can see in the distance what looks like a temple in a *vaguely*, very vaguely Greek style, though it looks like it was put together by extremely drunk people. At that temple up ahead is a large bonfire of white/purple flame, and figures dancing around it, with the distant murmur of voices that are having a Really Good Time. Herb smoke reaches the noses of the adventurers, the scent of wine and sweat, the sound of laughter and pipe music. There's a party up ahead!
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Branton totally goes with it once he knows the rules. He does keep the boots on though, which looks absurd but that might really be the point. He grins as he sees the party up ahead and he asks his mate "Would that still look sort of classical Greek if you and I weren't here?"
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Trey makes a note of Branton's comment. His notebook has got to be full of the weirdest assortment of shit. When Iris decides on a direction, he shrugs, grins and saunters alongside the other two, eyes toward the distance, taking in everything between here and there. His nose twitches, and he says, "We are about to get a massive contact height." Sounds good to the cat. Why not? "That's a really good question. Would it?" His eyes take on a weird shine from the flame reflections, and he's confronted with a possibility he hadn't considered. Oops. "These *are* all spirits, right?" Just checking.
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"That's a really good question, I have no idea!" Iris answers while they're approaching. "I mean, it's a minor Greek diety, so maybe it would, but then again it's an Incarna so it's not really defined by a tiny island's people over on earth, either, so... Man the Umbra gets so confusing some times. It's like that Oracle from the Matrix being all like 'would you still have broken it if I hadn't said anything'." As they approach, they're noticed by the spirits up ahead, and Mercy confirms that they are indeed spirits. Some are goats that walk on their hind legs, others are WAY more humanoid, but look... smeared, blurry, spirits of drunkenness, and others, the spirits of beer goggles, look unreasonably hot from some angles, and like chuds from other angles. Amongst them is a short, very ugly fellow that's half goat and half man. Surrounding the revelers is an absolutely *absurd* amount of food, wine, and drugs. Natural drugs, but still. ABSURD AMOUNTS. Like they gathered the whole moon's worth and put it all in one place. "HEEEEEEEEY!" they greet in slurs and waves, happily inviting the total strangers into their midst. Goblets of wine are shoved at them, plates of strange fruits, and there's some whistled cat calls cause... of course there are. "Eat! Drink! Be merry!" is shouted in invitation from basically everyone. No one's asked their names, who they are, where they come from, just shut up and get *sloppy*, new friends!
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Branton grins broadly at his mate and shrugs "Fun with the subjective nature of umbral reality." Then when the spirit calls out his greeting Branton calls out back an answering "Heyyyyyyy." And then takes out a polished star-metal (the alloy Branton makes with metoric steel, titanium, and alchemy) cigarette case and he gives it an underhanded toss over to the god "A gift great one! From crops grown by my own hand."
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Trey calls out, "Greetings!" Trey is happy to take a share of the wine and the fruit, after a quick glance to Iris to make sure that he's not making a Crucially Stupid Move in doing so. He chuckles, finds a comfy spot to perch his catself, and settles into a nearly-boneless sprawl somewhere soft-ish. When in Rome... or maybe more like 'Athens,' given the pseudo-quasi-Greek flair of the structure. It's mostly there for flavor, he decides. He's giving a simple gaze at the partygoers, taking in the scene, figuring out what types of drunken spirits (see what I did there?) are surrounding them, while enjoying the bounty. Then he shakes his head, and says, "Lighten up," talking to himself apparently, taking a great deep sloppy draught of the wine, letting a dribble collect on his chin. What? That's polite here!
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If Irsa's still with us in all her tough girl glory, she'll have to shift up to Glabro as soon as she partakes of the wine, it's just how she do. But since her player isn't here, she's ever so casually separated from the group by spirits of various types of fucked upedness. Which is probably good, because Pan's opinion is, "Tall... sexy...!" It's like if Tyrion suddenly got a total boner for Brianne of Tarth. And frankly she does not need to deal with that bullshit!
This is a REALLY friendly place, but the goats do unnerve Iris just a little bit and she *eyes* them. You never know, one of those goats could butt her right in the butt and send her flying! AGAIN! Branton saves Iris from a sound oogling though by chucking his cigarette case at Pan, which is good, because punching one's host is a terrible way to start an evening. "WOOOO!" come the appriciative cries of the spirits, and Pan as well, as that's popped open and most, not all but most, of the joints are absconded with, lit up, and soon there's a growing fog of weed smoke in the air. Offerings accepted! "I love you, man!" shouts Pan, the little satyr fellow hugging the nekkid Branton, which is probably a little bit awkward because he's a *very* short satyr. Gettin some five o'clock scruff chaffe on the belly there, Branton.
The wine they offer, by the way, is amaaaaazing, strange and unearthly, but it's wine, it has the same zing even if it's made using things other than just grapes. From the very first sip there's a change in the world, visually speaking. Lights are a bit brighter, crooked things seem a little straighter, blurry spirits seem a little more put together, and that goat walking on its hind legs developes human ears instead of goat ears. Yo9u get plastered enough, this place is gonna look *way* more normal!
"What can we do for ya, m'sausage packin' brethren?" Pan asks of the men folk, because Iris is too busy chugging and trying to make sure she's cool and in the right head space for this. An exceptionally blurry spirit, the esssence of 'about five seconds from being black out drunk', flops down beside Trey and starts talking to him. The spirit is almost completely unintelligable though, but the general vibe is 'oh my god I'm so happy to see you, I *love* you, man!'
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Branton grins and takes the hug and the wine, Not spilling on the god on purpose but not going out of his way to avoid it either. The wine gets drunk and enjoyed and for once Branton isn't thinking about how to make it himself "We are seeking a piece of your realm, freely given. I'm working on a project with my mate to make a object if divination from the position of all the realms relative to each other. And we certainly didn't want to leave yours out! It'd ruin the whole thing."
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Trey is pleased as he notices that the place becomes more clear as he drinks. Realistically, given regen, he'll be okay even if he drinks down a metric pantload of wine. Which is what he intends to do, it seems, because the first goblet is drained and he snatches another with a toothy smile. "Oh man, I think I love this stuff," he says, in the voice of every young person who's never been drunk before. Only difference is, he;ll probably metabolize it long before he starts yarfing. He waves to Pan and says, adding to Branton's query, "If we can have like... a teeny little bit of this place so we can come back readily?" He holds out a hand cupped and says, "Just like... that much. A rock, a something that will last. Soil, even. Given freely, of course, just like the man said. Can't do it without you." And to the spirit next to him, he gives him an affable shoulderclasp and says, "I know, man, you're awesome too!"
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To hell with your regeneration, this is spirit wine, might as well be awakened earth wine! It's the spirit *of* wine! You're *gonna* get hammered, catboi! Pan's mouth drops open as he O.O at the group, looking so thoroughly shocked. "You can *do* that?!" Who knows what he's imagining, but whatever it is is SUPER crazy. "An'... an' you want *my* house there too? Really? That's... that's so..." Hang on, he's gonna cry, his eyes are welling up, his-wait no, he's distracted by a passing drunk spirit and attempts to grab some booty but DAMN! She's just a little bit too fast and escapes ungroped. Curses! "Nuh, um. What? Nooooo, you cant take my house! Then where would I live! That's not fair!" Meanwhile, outside the ramshackle temple that's definitely starting to look straighter, herds of goats graze amongst bushes, stepping carefully out of the way of large, pink colored elephants that graze alongside them, all ponderous and lumbering.
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Branton gets a look of shocked sympathy on his face "Nooooooo. Not your whole house where would you have your parties! Just a piece. A token. A small bitty bit. Like...one of those slates that table is using for coasters." *crash* "Or frisbees."
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Trey is gonna be yowling and yarfing later, then, but does he give a single fuck? No, gentlebeings, his field of fucks is barren. He says, "Yeaaah. Just... like one brick, or one stone." He huhs. "Elephants. Huh. That's a new one... sorry. I mean, yeah, it's just a little something that's sorta like. A sommelier." A pause. "No, that's a wine dude. I mean, a souvenir. A souvenir. Like that coaster. Yeah, exactly like that." Another gulp from the goblet, another catgrin.
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"I cant live in a brick, I'm too *big*!" Pan says, looking down at his comparitively shrimpy self, then getting distracted by his own arms, ending up flexing his sick guns for a second until he remembers that someone definitely didn't ask him to move into a coaster. "But I LOVE my sommum. Somineer. ... But I LOVE my wine guy! Who's going to bring me wine in my brick!?" He's... completely misunderstanding everything. "Haaaang on hang on hold on there, I *got* it. "I'll sell you my house if um.... If you *do* a *thing* for me. A... *really* important thing." Iris is totally still here, but this is funny and she is *not* about to interrupt.
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Branton reaches up to rub at his face with his free hand, feeling like he lost the thread of things somewhere. Taking another swallow of spirit wine because that'll help (especially since he doesn't regenerate) and he looks over to Pan and asks "How can we help?"
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Trey would fear this, but he's a couple of glasses into the wine, he's not much of a drinker by habit, and let's face it, he's not going to admit it if he has second thoughts. Not that he's capable of those. Hell, 'first' thoughts are a touch-and-go thing at the moment. "S'what d'you need done?" He grins at Branton. "What he said."
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This wine kicks like a mule, goes down smooth and then bitch slaps your brain. The weed helps too, for sure, whether you're actively smoking or not, the air is thick with the stuff. Goats that were walking on their hind legs look much like satyrs, topless and goat legged like Pan, sporting little horns and all. Blurry spirits are more clear and resemble bizarrely stereotypical college partier types. Pick a house party movie, this is all the extras in the background. Spirits of beer goggles are exceptionally good looking, but know in your heart of hearts that your eyes are lying to you.
Pan drunkenly waves the pair to follow him as he clip clops unsteadily to look out at the night. The air hums with Saturn's song, the great lady hanging in the sky. The trees and bushes all vibe out to the sound, doing a little subtle wiggle dance amongst the goats and the elephants. A fat, joyous, naked man with an endless goblet of wine can be seen riding drunkenly over a hill atop of donkey with a unicorn's horn. And there, fellows, is what Pan wants to show you. a goat standing in the moonlight, silver and teal with the longest, floppiest ears you can imagine. "I want *her*." If you're not into goats, then it's a really neat looking goat, but still just a goat. Pan, though, is like that kid pointing out the prom queen from across the gym that he's 'totally gonna marry one day'. "But I cant catch 'er! Toooooo quick for me. Keeps sayin' I'm not her *type*. Like what does that even *mean*??"
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Branton looks between Pan and the she-goat. Back and forth a few times before stopping on Pan and taking another big swallow of wine "Well I am gonna go over there and talk to the lady. But if she says no, that means no. And you'll need to get over that real quick. Or like eventually anyways." And, realizing he doesn't know if she's actually a she-goat or a spirit he starts twisting his brain a bit in the ways that focus 'Beast Speech' and 'Spirit Speech', trying to mash them together in his brain because as fucked up as he is right now that makes sense.
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Trey would probably think more clearly about all of this if he was sober. He is most decidedly not sober. He's also not into goats in that way at all. Still and all, she's a nice looking goat, he figures. But still. No means no, even for a goat, right? Or a goat-spirit? Or... awshit, he's lost track. The whole mating thing is a lot easier when you're a an animal. If you try to mount a female who doesn't want you, she will try to eat your face. Pretty straightforward. And this is how it should be. So when Branton says he's going to talk to her, Trey nods agreement. "And I'll stay here with you and... provide moral support!" A little wine sloshes out of his goblet, and he chuckles. "Because you know, if she still isn't into you, then it's not worth it and a good wingman would just tell you it's better to not dwell on it, ya know?"
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"Pffft, I'm just gonna keep askin'." Pan admits, being totally honest about his persistence, but at least it's asking, not doing, right? "Woo her like *crazy* for me!" he says with excitable encouragement to Branton, "Tell her I own my own um. My own brick." he gestures at his magnificent temple home, "*Several* bricks, as a matter of fact. I make my own wine, and my dad's usually *really* nice to my girlfriends! Wait no! Don't tell her about my girlfriends, she'll think I'm not serious!"
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Branton is spending some of the walk over to the she-goat, reminding himself that spirits don't hold to human standards of behavior. And neither can animals. Or mythic creatures of any sort. But they still deserve agency as much as can be leveraged so he pauses and nods in greeting to the she-goat "Evening miss. Our host asked me to come over and make his case to you, would you be willing to listen to me? Or to come over and listen to him?" This was hopefully in a perceptible version of beast/spirit speech, Branton isn't even sure at this point. His intense sincerity will have to do the heavy lifting.
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Trey is completely and utterly riveted on this conversation. If he even understands it. It's a pretty good bet, he doesn't. But to be encouraging, he says, "Oh, good point," and grins, patting Pan's shoulder and drains his goblet, putting it aside. There's STUFF to focus on, and... what was he doing again?
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As Branton approaches and speaks, the goat turns her head to listen and then lets out this long, exaggerated, put upon sigh, and asks in a woman's voice. "What does he want this time?" There's something about the pitch, the tone, the particular inflections that says this chick would have been stylish and popular in the 80's. Her perm would have been *amazing*. "Ooooooh my god, you're here to woo me, aren't you? You're like the... hundredth person." Obvious exaggeration, but she's not unfamiliar with the awkward start of this conversation. She sits her butt down on the grass and gives Branton her attention, "Aaaalright, you may begin."
Over at the temple, Pan dances on his little hooves, like it's FINALLY gonna work this time, and then he suddenly looks at Trey and gets paranoid, "You don't think she's gonna fall for him instead, do you??" Somehow, he's serious.
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And like lightning being struck at least two of Branton's brain cells manage to bump together and something about the she-goat-spirit's response means something that he *understands*. This of course means he goes all in and makes his pitch on Pan's behalf. To a GOAT "I could of course tell you that he's a god. But you have keen powers of perception you don't need me to tell you this. I Could tell you he is a wondrously passionate being but with how ardently he's pursued you this cannot have escaped you. And I could speak to your own virtues and desirability, were I not a married man I would consider making a pitch myself but alas true love foils that path. Although with my need to return to the Tellurian perhaps that is for the best. You deserve someone who will treasure you, Someone who will adore you, Someone who can meet you where you dwell in all the things that you value and desire. You deserve Pan."
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Well, Trey chose to be the wingman, time to pony up! Or goat up, as the case may be. He shakes his head and says, "Why would she? He doesn't even have *hooves*, man. Hooves." Another shake of his head. "Seriously, Pan, man..." then he starts giggling because that juxtaposition of words is just too goddamned funny. "I uh... right. Hooves! No hooves, no looooooves." What the fuck? Go with it, just go with it. "Damn, he's good," he mutters.
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So, there's a naked man on a hillside in space, chatting up a goat so that the god of hornyness has a chance at boning her. Are any of you sure this is real? Iris slaps a hand over her mouth and wine floods out from between her fingers, the poor Fury nearly choking herself to death as vino shoots out of her nose and clogs her airways. Now the she-goat, meanwhile, shifts her posture in a 'well daaaaamn' sort of way, readable via that beastyspiritspeechyness. "Ooooh, you're good." she says, not exactly falling for it, but her needle jumps to 'receptive' pretty quick with that eloquent speech that might actually have been Branton slobbering incoherantly at a bush he thinks is an alien goat spirit. "Well, *I* heard he's all over the place. Totally unfaithful, unreliable, like I've got standards um... whoever you are, hairless meat person. I've got standards, and, like... a lifestyle, you know what I'm sayin'? How's he gonna account for that?"
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Branton grins at the she goat and spreads his hands, the goblet just floating there till he picks it back up, "That is the best part. He is a god, this realm and all its resources are at his disposal. To be his might not be a place that is solely yours, he can not be other than what he is but to join your house to his not only gives him access to you but gives you access to him. Truly you would both be fortunate beyond words."
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Trey nods like someone who knows what he's doing. The line about 'hairless meat person' makes him chuckle, though. Then he remembers he's a furry meat person. Oh, right. Moving on! She turns to Pan and sorta-explains, from his observations, "I think she wants to know that you're going to support her lifestyle. Um. I don't think buying purses is what she wants, so... um." A pause. "You know, none of the women I know want that either. Well, I mean, unless it was a really cool purse with, like, room for fetishes and notebooks and pens and stuff. So what does a she-goat want most to make her happy? You probably wanna get her that. Like... maybe someone to groom and polish her hooves and comb her coat and stuff?" A pause. "Oh, and the unfaithful and unreliable thing -- I think she wants a commitment." Talk about burying the lead. And Trey? you're NOT helping. "But maybe -- hold on, let's see what she says about *that*..."
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"Ugh, gods. The ego!" the she-goat bleats, and starts a total rant at Branton. "Like they think they can just walk in and get whatever they want, throwing their grapes around and sprouting a few plants like 'oh my god, I'm a god, worship me!'" She somehow manages to make a mocking voice for that last bit, don't ask how, alien goat spirit, nuff said.
While she's going *off* about the entitlement of god-men-things, Pan whirls around and grabs Trey's shoulders, "What!" he says while giving the man a little shake, "Is a purse??" This is it, this right here, it's the *key* to everything! If he could just figure out what purse a goat would want, she'd date him and MAYBE, probably, he can still date other goats too.
During the she-goat's feminist rampage of bleats, Pan yells over at she and Branton, "DOES SHE WANT A PURSE??" Oooooooh fuck he's gonna get her a purse, yes he *is*.
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Primal Figure returns, from wherever she wandered off to, with a brawny arm wrapped companionably about a goat's neck. ~ So yeah, that's what th' dude said to me. Can ya fuckin' believe it? Like I give two shits 'bout his approval.~ She tilts her head back to gurgle down some wine from a jug she found, and politely offers some to her new friend. Both are looking perhaps slightly drunk, but not tripping-down the stairs drunk. Yet.
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When Pan starts yelling about a Purse something behind Branton's eyes goes *twitch* but he stays focused on the She-Goat and takes another deep swallow of his wine. Now, he's still addressing the goat with body language but he's speaking up enough to be clearly over heard by Pan and the Rest as well "Oh yeah. I know just the type. But you know how this can work? Sure he's expecting you to be worshiping him and he is a god after all but the way the best relationships go is both ways. You're gonna get him to worship you back. And I know that works as format because that is how I and my mate are. Into each other both ways a hundred and ten percent."
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Trey gets shaken, not stirred, and once he's free, he full-on facepalms. He has, indeed, created a monster. Or a problem. Or... something. "A purse is an accessory meant to hold things. Like a pocket, only bigger and with a strap to go over your shoulder or your wrist for carrying." He looks around for another goblet to drink. He is way, way too sober for this. And he's definitely not sober. He lets out a sound that's somewhere between a mew and a whimper and then says, "I don't think she wants a purse. But you know, I have one in my bag." Just go with it, he figures, see if she likes it. When does anything on an adventure ever go the way they expected? And moreover, when is life ever... oh, sheesh, this is not the time to get drunkenly philosophical, Aristo-tle-cat! There is MERRIMENT to be tended to! This is SRS BZNS!
He stops to fish in his rucksack, coming out with the adorable little hippie pouch Iris gave him to hold his talens, carefully emptying it before he draws it free of his bag. He wouldn't normally give up a gift from a friend, but this is a deity, or at least an incarna, so... it's a special case. "See," he offers, "This is a small purse. With lots of shinies on it. Women love shinies. So do cats." Goats? Who knows? "But I think what she really wants is respect and commitment." He feels weird even saying those words here and now, but when on Pan, do what Pan wants...? Something.
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"EEEEEEEEHTEHTEHT!" replies the goat to Irsa, laughing its goat ass off at the story before stuffing its entire snoot into the jug to slurp up some wine. The goat doesn't backwash TOO much, so that's good! Getting goats drunk in real life, not good for them. Spirit goats , however, fuck it, get 'em smaaaaashed. If you read that with a little bit of a bleat, then you did it right.
She-Goat-Of-The-Stars snorts a bit like she doesn't believe that and looks away. Then looks back. "...Really?" She ignores the kerfuffle over at the temple that started out looking ramshackle af and now, to drunken eyes, looks way more magnificent. "I could stand to be worshiped..." She's very seriously considering this now.
Meanwhile, over at the temple, Pan trots on his little hooves over to fetch Trey's pack, and does a little goat dance of hurry uuuuuuuup! while the Qualmi does a search and produces the 'purse'. He takes it and looks at it all wide eyed and amazed. Surely he's seen a pouch before, but... Well he's super drunk, like always, so maybe he forgot. "A *purse*! This is *perfect*!" The ugly satyr straightens up, smoothes out his leg fur, licks his palm and does something horrifying to his hair that makes it even worse than it was a minute ago, and asks, "How do I look?" He's getting ready to go out there and close the deal that Branton is making for him. Oh god, poor Branton... Poor she-goat!
As for Iris, she is *losing her shit* right now. She didn't expect any of this to go how it's going, and when she started laughing at some of the things Branton was saying, she just never did manage to stop. She's crying now, she's laughing so hard.
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Neanderthal-Irsa nudges her goat-friend and nods at the others. ~ What's goin' on over there? Should we be placin' bets, or what?~ She snorts laughter as events unfold, sloshing wine everywhere.
Writing reality out to disk. Please wait...
Reality saved. Thank you for your patience.
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Branton is quick to smile and take his leave as the She-goat ponders her impending worship and he moves to catch Pan "Now I've set it up for you and you just have to close the deal. I'll even give you an old incantation of my people to help you out alright?" and he leans down to whisper something to Pan and when he stands back "Now say that to her and mean it."
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Trey looks hopeful as he sees Branton whisper to Pan. He saunters (stumbles) toward Irsa and says, "I don't know if I will remember this and I don't know if I want to," with a little swallow from his goblet. "I... don't know anything about this romancing thing aside from it involving small gifts and pretty words that need to be sincere to work right." He giggles -- yes, giggles -- and hiccups.
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Pan takes some quick breaths, possibly partially hyperventilating, then takes a step, "Oh, wait, here..." He clicks his hooves together and does a little drunken stompy dance before trotting off to go get himself a girlgoatfriend. At the spot where he danced, a grape vine begins to rapidly grow, coming up wild and untamed and just spouting purple grapes all over the place. One of them grows to exceptional size, roughly the size and shape of a basketball, becoming far too large for the vine to support, so it breaks off, thumps meatily to the ground, and rolls to Branton's feet.
Pan gets out there and offers the silver and teal space-goat the hippy pouch, and starts spitting lines of poetry at the goat, PROPER poetry. *Backstreet* poetry. "You are my fire..." "The one I desire..." "Believe me when I say..." "I... Want it that way."
So far so good! At least, it looks that way from a little bit of a distance. Iris doubles over, just... fucking... dying, and several other spirits aren't much better, but who knows if it's just infectious mirth or if they've been paying attention to things. Tell you ONE thing they've been paying attention to though, and that's wine levels. Everyone gets a refill!
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Primal Figure loops an arm around Trey in one of those sideways-hug things, with her and the goat. "It's glands talkin'," she informs the Bastet. "I mean sure, uh. Romance? I guess it's a thing. I mean, my momma was romanced by my daddy, an' my cousin Mariah got th' same thing from her dude. But, uh. If you don't got your glands yellin' at ya, you ain't gonna pursue." She scratches her jaw, puzzlin' over this fuzzily. "I think?" Irsa shrugs and offers her two bosom drinking buds more wine. "Three fresh-caught fish on th' goat," she offers up as a bet. Ogawd. The Backstreet Boys have been invoked. "Make that five."
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Branton grins and offers a salute to the God as he goes off to make his pitch and he scoops the giant grape and brings it over to offer it to his mate with a flourish "My lady I return with your prize. I'm sure we can make this work yeah?" A glance over to the god and the she goat happens also, because the endings of things are important.
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Trey looks blank at the recitation, and apparently does not recognize the lyrics at all. "That's... pretty bad poetry," he slurs, "But I dunno much about this stuff." I mean, asking the feline-born how to get girls is kind of like asking a homid-born how to ice fish with your paws. He grins and tosses an arm amiably around Irsa as well, and says, "I'll take that bet. 'cause why not?" He's thinking about fish now. "Mmm. I haven't had a fresh salmon in a couple weeks..." A pause. "Wait. I'm betting on Pan? Oh, I'm screwed. But.. wait, he's a god n' all... I mean, he seems like..." He seeks a word, hmming, "Well, kinda like a douche, but a nice one!" Branton returns with the giant grape, and Trey grins. "Mission 'complished!" Another swallow of wine. "Now I need to find the pissing tree, because there's gotta be one..."
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"Yaaaaaay! Thank you, my love!" Mercy cheers and laughs at the same time, and when she gets the massive grape she confides, "I totally wanna eat it." But she does not! "Yeah, this'll work! Wait... Is that...?" She holds the grape way out and tilts her head, moving it a bit so the fire is better situated behind the grape. "Is that a dick?" The core fibers seen through the grape skin and semi translucent meat really do resemble an erect penis, yeah. Fitting, coming from the land of boners and booze. "Welp, lesson for the apprentices! Rocks aren't always rocks, sometimes rocks are grapes with genitals hidden inside them!" Now outside in the meadow Pan and the goat are talking quietly, there's some tossing of her long floppy ears in much same way a girl would toss her long hair. Things SEEM to be going well, the goatly god gesticulating and going on and on about this amazing thing he got her called a 'purse'.
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Primal Figure eyes that honkin' huge grape with interest. "Is that where purple Kool-Aid comes from? Holy shit." No one, NO ONE she knows calls it 'grape' back in South Central. And then the dick's pointed out, and she makes a face. "Ugh, I ain't never drinkin' purple again."
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Branton chuckles and grins at Mercy an nods when she points out the form the seed took "Well, its certainly on brand for him." Glancing at the chat Pan is having with the She-Goat "I think we can probably leave them to it yeah?"
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Trey studies the grape, and looks closely, peeeeering hazily at the huge fruit. "Yeah, that totally looks like a dick." A pause. "Definitely a human dick, too," he adds unnecessarily. He laughs and tells Irsa, "The don't make purple Kool-Aid with dicks. Meat's too expensive for using in those teeny little packets. What are they, like a quarter? Besides, the stores never sell those parts that I've seen. Supermarkets don't, at least. I mean, I guess if you found a butcher..." He stops. Thank Gaia. He seems to have lost his train of thought. "You're gonna need to go fishin'," he teases, pointing to god and goatess. "I agree with Branton, we should let them to it. I sure don't wanna watch."
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"Well we have two options, gang," Iris says, "We can hang out here, or hang out on the boat, cause I am way too fucked up to drive. Or um... Boat. Steer? THING. I'm too drunk to do the thing I do when we make the boat go."
If you've ever been to any sort of large party, then you know there's almost always that one couple that gets into a fight somewhere during the evening, and then kind of sort of takes it outside. That's Pan and the goat. FIVE MINUTES. The good times lasted for five. Whole. Minutes. Here's the conversation at the edge of hearing as the goat is clopping away from Pan and around the temple, with Pan following after.
"Meegan! You left your purse!"
"No! I'm *over* it!"
"But your purse, though!"
"Eat it!"
"WHY would I do that?"
"I don't care, I'm *over* it!"
"Arg! MEEGAN! Come back to the temple!"
"No! YOU go back to the temple!"
"But I got your purse!"
"I don't care, I'm over it!"
And so on and so forth. Then they stop, and Meegan the goat spirit looks over her shoulder, they lock eyes and there's very definitely a 'chase me' sort of vibe that's passed. But the second Pan opens his mouth and says something, the entire conversation repeats, though with little differences. It's actually as good a match as could be made, the god of unrequited horniness and pursuit with the spirit of wanting to be chased but never quite delivering on anything.
Iris offers in agreement with Branton, "...Maybe we should go to the boat."
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"You're wreckin' my childhood," Irsa huffs at Trey. She pushes herself to her feet, swaying a bit unsteadily. "I'll make sure all th' salmon I catch have got human dicks, just for you." She frowns as she shakes the empy wine jug, and loops it around one of the goat's horns. That spirit has probably worn several of these decorations by now. `Uh, here,~ she mutters, offering the spirit a bit of Gnosis. It's been totally chill, and she's always down with making new friends. ~ Next time I head out this way, we should do this again.~
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Branton winces as the argument starts and nods at his mate and starts hustling towards the boat "Well it certainly could have gone worse. And this was totally a practical application of one of the lessons you taught a week or two ago you know?"
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Trey nods agreement with Iris. "Yes. Boat. Good idea." His glass is sloshing with his motions -- what motions? Well, he's swaying a little. At Irsa's comment, he winces. "Ew. I do NOT want salmon with human dicks, that's just wrong. But I'm sorry for ruining your childhood. I um. I could buy you some Legos to apologize. Those things are awesome." He then follows at a slightly swifter pace, hustling a bit. "Oh, I know what I need to do. I need to take dancing lessons! I can learn on that clip-clop place, right?" He means Tik Tok. Probably.
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"It is? I taught something?" Mercy asks while carrying purse and grape to the boat where their clothes are stashed, along with the rest of the group and Trey's souvenir goblet. "Oooh shit, right, I'm a mentor!" she forgot for a minute there, even though she literally just referred to Irsa and Trey as apprentices a few minutes ago. "What was it?" she asks Branton cluelessly.
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Primal Figure offers a fist bump to Trey. "All good, I'm just grindin' your gears. So, uh. What's th' grape for, anyway?" she asks, as the group heads back to the ship. She could put her pants back on, but for why? It's a nice cool spacey night, and she's digging the vibe.
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Branton grins broadly as he starts getting settled in the dinghy with exaggerated care "Spirits cannot be other than their nature allows. And even if you try to help them change you're pretty much doomed to fail. So since I knew it wouldn't work I decided I would fail gloriously. And hoped that would be enough to get us what we were there for. And it worked!"
Primal Figure loses one Magical Essence
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Trey bumps Irsa's fist and grins. "Okay," he agrees cheerfully. He doesn't really care about the clothes at this point, which is just as well, because he'd probably put them on wrong. He popints to Branton and says, "Yes, that, exactly. And y'know, I think you did fail gloriously, but I think they are a weirdly kinda... matched set?" He drains the remains of his goblet and says, "Sweet, now I have two." A pause, and he hands it to Irsa. "Souvenir cup! Like those ones at those terrible restaurants with the Long Island Iced Teas in them? In the cups, I mean." He looks over to Mercy and then notes, "Spirits," in agreement with Branton's summary, "Are their natures, and aren't usually complicated, unless they're of a complicated concept like... uh... abstract math."
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This is exactly why you don't wear clothes in the realm, there's a certain point in drunkeness where taking your clothes off is just the *right* thing to do. The moment when you're totally down to streaking the quad, or will take that dare with zero prompting, or you're just sitting there thinking deep thoughts about how uncomfortable they are. Then you end up the naked guy or girl at the party, just doin the drunk nudist thing.
"Huh." Mercy says, tripping and falling into the boat. She face plants bonelessly, but she keeps that god damned grape hoisted so it doesn't smash! "Fuck's sake." Branton gets the grape so she can crawl herself into a sitting position in the boat. Once she IS up though, she says, "Lookit you bein all insightful! You're totally right, today was a *great* example of that. You're so awesome, I love you!" But she also hugs everyone while the boat starts ascending, "I love all of you guys!"
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Primal Figure celebrates the group's victory by throwing back her head and howling. It's a shadow of her deep, booming howl in her wolf-skins, but hey! She gets at least a 'B' for effort. "I love ya'll too," she grunts as she's squeezed. She's tried to row, which is only for looks, mind you, but gave up when she realizes the row boat is already in motion. And probably has no oars. At least, she can't see them clearly in this state if they do exist. "Oh, hell yeah. I'll put this cup..." she blinks furiously. "Um, in th' Umbra, in my den. It'll look nice on th' mantle."
Primal Figure means the cup, obviously.
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Branton grins and nods, homid howling when Irsa starts a howl but then he starts chattering more as the overexplainy drunk "Since I knew he was a god of flirtation and pursuit not consummation I just needed a read on Megan. Once I had that the idea just came together. It worked out less painfully than making friends with Ares, that's for sure. Though I did almost sock pan right in the jaw."
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Trey is about to try and swoop in to save to grape, but Branton gets it, which is just as well, because when you're drunk, swooping is bad. He accepts the hug and hugs back, not quite sure how many of the others his arms wind up around, but hey, cat hugs, why not. "On the mantle, good idea... I haven't decided what I wanna do with mine but I think... maybe I'll drink from it!" Oh, very inventive! He listens to Branton's explanation and grins broadly. "Man with a plan. I was just desperately babbling to try and keep up. Yeah, I kinda wanted to spit a hairball on him, but... I mean, welcoming enough, but kind of a douche."
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"I'm just glad you didn't end up leaving me for a goat." Mercy says while laughing, "And I'm glad you didn't punch him! He mighta like cursed all our trips to be bad ones or given us all ED. or... whatever the vaginal version of erectile disfunction is." She gestures at Trey and says, "I bet you could make that thing turn liquids poured into it into wine."
The dinghy docks at the stern of the ship so that the drunkards can crawl out onto the deck. They get laughed at by crew members of course, they went down as fully functional adults with clothes on and returned drunk as skunks with their clothes in hand. Dorks.
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Branton nods at his mate and grins as he climbs onto the boat "I figured, however comfortable I have gotten settling into the Nation, I can't solve all my problems with Violence."
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Trey oooOOOoohs at the idea from Mercy. "I bet I could, at that. I wonder if I could make it turn into wine that gives back spirit energy or something..." He grins again, still contemplating things even when he's nearly falling-down drunk. "ED? Oh, erectile disfucktion. Dysfuton. Dysfunction! Right!" He chuckles and gets his stuff, crawling onto the deck with laughter. "Nope!," he agrees with Branton. "Sometimes y'gotta solve 'em with wine and poetry!" He pauses. "Sorry for what I said about your poem, man."
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Primal Figure has shifted to lupus at some point, and her jaws part in a bone-cracking yawn. >> Do not be sorry, it is a howl from the Behind-Paths Cubs. << This is clearly wolf for 'Backstreet Boys'.
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Bones snap and break, shifting and warping into a new form, as the creature before you becomes a ragged brown wolf.
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Branton nods at what Irsa said and "I'll pull up the video for you when we get back to somewhere with cell phone signal. It’s someone else's poem and it’s meant to be sung. It’s still not that great but I was going for cheesy and over the top anyway."
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"Yeah, just *most* of them." Mercy says to Branton with a grin. Her most important task is getting the bigass grape some place safe, where it wont accidentally get eaten, so she takes it to the room off the bridge that's full of her books and makes it a little nest amidst the tomes. "So whaddya wanna do now? I mean aside from helping me get rocks. Since we're here, and all."
Beyond the ship is Saturn, colored like every hue in a sunrise now as Helios's light strikes the orb differently, its rings sparkling bands of red and gold, with what looks like a fuckoff big fish moving through them. Pan's moon begins to drift away as Mercy starts fucking with the steering.
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Ragged Brown Wolf grunts at Branton. >> It is a good howl, but not the howl I like best from them. << She throws back her head and warbles, >> Every woooolf! Stone your wooooolf! Every wooolf -- stone your wolf arooooooo!!! << Her paws shift as she prances in place, until they reach the Space Boat once more.
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Trey ohs! He chuckles and says, "Songs often have bad poems for words," with a knowing smile, commenting with surprising facility for a really drunk dude about lyrics, "I mean, there was one with something about the 'pomp-you-tuck' of love or something. I have never been able to find out what that means." He giggles again as Irsa begins to howl, and joins in with a yowl, recognizing the tune vaguely now that the music is revealed. "I... think I want to watch the sky for just a little while," he says happily, "Is it even sky when you're in space? It feels like sky!"
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Branton nods at Trey and flops on the deck, waving at the space fish as it goes by "Its totally sky. We should probably sober up before trying another realm and any more negotiating I think." Then he starts singing along with Irsa's howl also.
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It's a good thing space is 360, cause Mercy tilts the boat alarmingly before managing to get it 'upright' again, in relation to Saturn's rings. "Yeah, you're probably right, no one wants random drunk werewolves dropping in. Or werecats. Like those guys on the moon, lookin at Trey ALL kinds of suspicious!" She brings the boat to right up next to the rings, where space whales can be seen in the distance with the spinning ring roads laid out like a sea of glitter before them. Way out in the midst of the rings is a moon with a magnificent little mansion built on it. The rings move in various different directions, sometimes overlapping or braiding together, being way less orderly than the physical world counterparts.
"I'm glad you're all here, it's really nice to have some friends around for this sort of thing, and people to sing boy band songs with. It's a fun job though, right? I think I picked a really good life goal."
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>> I like wandering, << Irsa-wolf growls, looking up at her mentor. >> There are so many new things to see, and so many spirits to meet. It is better than the Ape-Trunk That Shows Things << , This is clearly wolf for 'television'. >> My tribe is a good tribe, but we like that ape-thing too much. But we like wandering even more. What we you do with the Big Round Thing? << she asks Mercy.
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Trey says, “Yeeeeah, probably...," he agrees with Branton about sobering up. He flops onto his back bonelessly and gazes up and around. "Never dreamed I'd be out here in the middle of the stars. It's great to wander... S'also great to have a home." The corners of his mouth quirk up at Iris. "The best life goal. Learning the universe... this is wisdom for the ages, no lie. Just knowin' all of this." He turns to look at Irsa, smiling. "The TV people only wish they could come up with things as cool as truth," he slurs, merry and pensive all at once. "If more people knew what wonders're true... sometimes I wonder if they'd be different.”
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"The grape? I will mount it on the orrery." Mercy says, flomping into a seat where she can take in the view, and even offers around a collapsable telescope if anyone wants to use it. "I THINK we can manage to snag most of the needed pieces out of this system and get them all back home all at once, and then you lot can help me crawl all over the orrery and get them set in their respective mounts." She nods her agreement with both apprentices, "TV is fun, but yeah, no substitution for the real thing. I feel like a lot of people *would* be better people if they knew. Like to how to evade the corrupting banes they don't know are whispering into their ears or whatever. Some might just be worse people though, cause there's always someone that's gotta make a buck or try and get just a little bit more whatever out of something."
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Branton nods Trey's appraisal and question "Oh they probably would be but alas there's some very good reasons that people in general don't get to know about stuff." And he gestures at what his mate had to say on the topic "Like that. And there's a whole faction of willworkers called the technocracy dedicated to keeping science and stasis ascendant over the world. As shifters reckon such things they serve the weaver. hard core."
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Ragged Brown Wolf perks up her ears at Iris' words. >> Oh! I am stupid, of course it would go there. That is the point of wandering so far away. << She does a happy little prancing dance of celebration. >> There is a realm for the Trunk Ape-Thing, <<. she tells Trey. >> There you can see false things, like a cat hunting a mouse with a big stick. And the mouse trick the cat into hitting itself with the big stick, and tha cat's food turns very red and becomes very very big. You must be careful, you can be dragged into those things. And they are not always amusing, or safe. <<
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Trey nods and considers the words of all of his companions. "I'd like too think people would be better, but there's always gonna be bad bananas. No, that's apples." He doesn't seem bothered by mangling the metaphor, though. "People would be more afraid of the world if they knew. With good reason. Man likes to think he's on top." He shrugs, and listens, as Irsa describes the TV Realm. "Oooh? Oh, I'm curious, but I wouldn't wanna be trapped there... especially as the cat!" He adds, "Not stupid, just drunk."
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"YES! Oh, goddess, this is probably a good time to mention this," Mercy says, "*Never* watch TV in the umbra. Like ever. You almost never see them working like a TV in the umbra, but when you do just put a hand up, block it out, go somewhere else, whatever. It's literally hypnotizing if you can see one on in the actual spirit world, and that's how you get *to* the television realm. So you get hypnotized into watching, then you're suddenly sucked into it without warning, and if you cant figure out how to get back it can be a *real* weird experience."
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Branton nods enthusiastically at what Mercy said "And we've been to the Flux realm. So weird is familiar territory for us. We will need a piece from it eventually though...who would we even negotiate with for that?"
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>> That is what I said, stupid, << Irsa-wolf agrees with Trey. Wolfspeech, so literal and limited, but cool! Especially if you're a city wolf. She snatches up her pants and tosses them around her head, playing with them a bit before she tosses them over her shoulder. >> Look, I am wearing ape-bark. << She goggles importantly at Trey, before activing her Resist Toxin Gift to sober the hell up. >> Yes, they warn us when we are cubs, << she agrees with Iris. >> We have lost several pup that way, and stupid wolves who should know better. This is very true after they have been watching the Large Stone Den Game.<<
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Trey is about to protest that he wouldn't be interested in TV when there's so much to see, and then thinks better of it, remembering falling down a rabbit hole of TikTok videos about dancing the other day. "Noted," he says sheepishly. He grins at Irsa, then. Of course Wolf doesn't have a specific word for 'Drunk.' He laughs as Irsa plays with her pants, and then blinks as she's suddenly... not-silly. "The Superbowl?," he attempts to translate, and then urfs and sits up, paying attention as best he can. He doesn't have that gift, alas. "Don't wander into weird places alone, don't watch TV in the Umbra, don't let strange women talk you into sex at the island... so many dangers for a young cat." He does take it seriously, as much as he can right now, anyway. "You won't lose me. I'm curious, but definitely not-stupid when it comes to the Umbra."
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"I have *no* idea," Mercy tells her man, "Some of these realms, I seriously have no idea how to negotiate at all, or even who or how you'd ask. But we'll figure it out! Sooooomehow." She snerks at Irsa and asks, "So... Pants on a wolf. Would they just cover the back legs and cinch around their waist, or would they be front AND back legs and just cinch all the way around their bodies, under the neck and tail. I've got a whole room full of spare clothes and outfits for wandering, if you wanna change." She bursts out laughing at Trey, "Lookit you, remembering all the rules!"
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Branton nods at his mate and bends and twists himself to his feet "Time for refreshments I think. And on the back half, just like if a crinos was a dog standing on their hind legs."
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>> We would wear them like this, << the wolf tells Mercy, shoving her entire head into her pants. The top of her snout pokes out of one of the legs. >> Yes, that, << she tells Trey, even though she can't see him at the moment with her eyes covered. >> There are always big howls and challenges placed, and flat-thing Rites when it happens. << She claws the pants off her head and shifts back to homid. She's not drinking out of a bowl, nuh uh.
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Bones snap and break, shrinking and shaping into a new form. The creature before you becomes a dark, scarred woman.
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Trey offers, with odd drunken wisdom, "Well, um... technically, can it be *taken* freely or does it have to be *given* freely? Like... if nobody objects, is it freely?" He smiles at the part about the rules. "I didn't want to wind up lost in the Umbra, or stuck in a cartoon, or." He stops there. The question about pants makes him blink and vapor-lock. He's seriously considering this. Irsa peeking out of the pant leg finally unlocks him. He absently begins to pull his clothes back on, maybe out of habit. Maybe he's getting chilly. He's not exactly hairy in homid. He sits up then, arms on his knees, still barefoot. "We need to come back for more of that wine someday."
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Mercy stares at her own pants for a long time, and then eeeeeeeeventually decides to master the damned things and put them on. Or try to, any how, she falls out of her deck chair once it comes to the super hard part, getting her butt into them while in a seated position. The legs went on fine, of course, but that was just to lul her into a false sense of security, cause now that she's falling out of her chair, she cant flail wildly with them to keep her balance. She does the rest of her re-panting from on the deck while laughing helplessly at Irsa with her head stuffed into a pant leg. "Dune-wolf!" she laughs, and all she can do is just shrug at Trey while laughing, "I mean... Like realms themselves are living things, I think... like maybe not a *person* but maybe a vibe could agree with giving a bit of itself up."
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Irsa looks down at herself, totally standing there with her bare ass hanging out in the Umbral wind. "Think I'll take you up on th' travelling clothes. Stuff I brought with are lookin' pretty threadbare." She guffaws at Mercy's quip. "Th' spice must floooow!" She considers the realms as she scratches her jaw. "What realm d'ya want to hit up next?" she asks her mentor. "Maybe as we travel and get more experience, th' answers will come to us. We're all pretty creative and got good imaginations." She heads off in search of Branton, who was looking for drinks, and the clothes closet, where promised garments await.
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Trey secures his goblet in his knapsack, and then settles back, looking up above with that same weird drunken thoughtfulness. He seems to be sobering as time passes, though right now he's clearly in the 'absolutely no filters' part. As opposed to 'very few filters,' his default setting. "I'm open to suggestions completely." He pauses, and adds, "Except I don't want to be a cartoon cat."
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"I dunno! Lemme think about that." Mercy answers, and follows along so she can at least offer help to whomever needs it! Preferably with refreshments, and not pants! "As for out here, the most impressive will probably be Lu-Bat's council hall, out on that moon over there. He patrons the Children of Gaia, and the Ragabash auspice. You guys'll have a chance to chat up just about any kind of wisdom spirit. We cant visit Saturn itself without a direct invitation, Lu-Bat likes to keep his space separate. As for *earthly* realms, um... I kinda wanna get some of the bad ones out of the way, Battlefield and such, probably. When we get back, Branton and I have some ancestors we gotta contact, and I feel like we're gonna have another journey on our hands, probably to that realm, so. There! Could be really educational though."
And there are a lot of clothes, once they're found. It's not a time traveler's wardrobe or anything, just a place-traveler's, and Mercy tends to get some clothing from everywhere she visits so that she - and friends - can blend in better when they go abroad.
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Irsa doesn't have to think about it for long. "Wolfhome," she suggests to her mentor. "The place has lessons for everyone, no matter how many legs y' were born with." She thinks over a few more as she paws through the closet looking for things close to her size. "And this ain't one for now, but later? Th' Scar." She winds up with bright summer top, a bit snug on her, but it's got no sleeves and doesn't constrict her movements.
