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Post by loveboxer123 on Jun 12, 2018 21:14:42 GMT -6
Family Ties A private rp between the Alphabet Twins Setting: The Bunker, Kitchens. Takes place after V's calamari-ification |
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Post by loveboxer123 on Jun 12, 2018 21:34:09 GMT -6
V You f*cking donkey.
 228 | #1 The mule was all a titter today. Their tentacles and their teke pulling ingredients from the cabinets above them and putting them into various pots scattered about. V cursed, shaking a box over their face, only to get splattered with flour. They snorted white from their flared nostrils, blinking, before aggressively shaking their face.
“Ugh ” They groaned, putting the now empty box down, using their tentacles to root through the cabinets as their teke rustled across the room to find what they were looking for.
They weren't particularly in a rush. But, they felt like playing with recipes. As they slowly learned to read, they began to write down their recipes for later use.
One tentacle curled around their stomach, patting it softly as they moved. V released a deep sigh, before backing off for a moment, wiping sweat from their brow. They quickly stuck their head under the sink, letting water plaster their hair to their face, before backing up, dripping wet. Their longer front tentacles wrapped around their neck as they closed their eyes for a moment, breathing a soft sigh.
“Ugh. So much damn work. ” They murmured. The heat was almost stifling in here.
With a discontent huff, they walked out of the kitchen, taking a whiff of the fresher air outside, then ducking back inside.
Couldn't leave for too long.
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Post by notfromthisgalaxy on Jun 12, 2018 21:59:08 GMT -6
Z; Vagabond | Soldier
"Never before has the song of War,
been the song of Hope ascending." This had not been the part of the plan. Joining the Vindicators hadn't been their first idea... or their second... or their third. But here they were. Repaying a debt that they owned the Vindicators for years. Tongue stinging in pain at the thought that they were finally doing this; as if their body was getting onto them for not doing this sooner. Signing a quick 'thank you' to the one who had given them a basic rundown of the bunker, Z was more than ecstatic to get away from the others.
Why they had agreed to this was a mystery. They could have just stayed playing bodyguard for others. Being in a group was not the life for them, but they owed the group of freedom fighters.
Somehow not managing to get lost in the bunker, the new member had been instructed to perhaps get something to eat. Perhaps the audible groaning of their stomach had alerted those they had been around that the former Merc didn't have a regular eating schedule. Luckily for them, it seemed they had a rather natural sense of direction, with some helpful directions from some other Vindicators, Z managed to find themselves standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
Watching the figure that was occupying the room, Z figured this is who the others had instructed her to find. Letting a strained cough fall from their lips, the pain that shoots through their throat causes them to squirm in annoyance. Hopefully the equine heard that- they certainly don't think they can do that again.
WC: 263 | Post #1 |
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Post by loveboxer123 on Jun 12, 2018 22:35:44 GMT -6
V I wish you would jump in the oven! That would make my life a whole lot easier!
219 | #2 The mule’s ears flicked back at the rather rude cough that invaded their kitchen. Everything was slowly sat down as V slowly tilted their head towards the one who dared enter their kitchen and cough like they were a mere hound.
Gold gradiented purple swept over the one in the doorway. Not Gallows, or any Vindicator they had ever seen (who definitely knew better). A unicorn, coat a deep blood bay (their nose wrinkled), combined with splatters of what looked like their own coat color. Normally, this would have tipped someone off. But V, who was already unobservant, merely frowned.
“You must be new. ” They remarked, crossing the kitchen with ease.
“Please do not cough in my kitchen.” They grumbled, long ears flagging back to flatten against their neck.
“I am V. This is my kitchen. Dinner is in an hour. In the meantime, I suggest waiting it out with everyone else. There is going to be enough stew for everyone. ” They drawled, their tentacles wrapping into their thick tail. With that done, the apricot dun stepped away, one tentacle snagging a small pot as they walked.
“If you came down here to speak, I say hello, welcome, I am not a good conversationalist, please leave. Thank you for your consideration. ”
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Post by notfromthisgalaxy on Jun 13, 2018 8:55:17 GMT -6
Z;Vagabond | Soldier "Never before has the song of War,
been the song of Hope ascending. A little taken back at first, the unicorn isn't quite sure what to say. Their eyes slit into a displeased expression at the first comment that she thrown their way. Taking a quick deep breath, doing her best to calm their nerves, Z has to remind themselves that not everyone knows they literally can not speak. A quick thought of 'apologize' had flashed through their mind, but with a twisted down frown, the new Soldier deems it isn't worth their time.
'Speaking is not my best talent,' Signing quickly, and hoping that it is at least somewhat understood- they had ran into enough people to know that not everyone took the time to learn. If not, surely there was some paper in here that they could use to get the message across. 'Just doing a walkaround- getting lost is not something I want to be doing.'
After finishing off their 'words' the unicorn allows themselves to take in the kitchen; eyes darting over every now and then to the hippocampus that seemed to be the most friendly of sorts. Perhaps if they hadn't been running on just fumes, they might have realized the cook's name was just consisted off one letter- just like their own. If they hadn't been so sleep-deprived, hadn't been so hungry, then they might have noticed the fact that this strange cook's coat matched their own splotch along their shoulder.
For someone who had built a career on being perceptive and always on guard, Z was letting the obvious slip by.
'Z.' They quickly realize they forgot to give them their name, 'Z is my name.'
WC: 272 | Post #2
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Post by loveboxer123 on Jun 14, 2018 8:25:01 GMT -6
V How about a thank you, you miserable wee b*tch
170 | #3 V twisted their head over their shoulder, looking at the unicorn.
Ah. Sign language. Must be another slave who lost their tongue. V had only heard of the practice, barbaric as it was, from Gallows. They were glad they hadn't made it to Aodh.
If V could do anything, they could understand sign. The hippocampus’s brow wrinkled at the name. Z. The same one O had thrown in their face before he had...run into his own knife. Six times. In the chest.
They twisted around to look at the unicorn.
“Do you happen to know a stallion named O?” Their tentacles curled in on themselves, twining into the thick black of their tail. It was like an itch in their head. Something on the tip of their tongue. It was incredibly frustrating.
V looked away for a moment, filling the pot they held with water, before setting it aside to boil and letting their teke begin to chop vegtables. Then, they turned back to Z
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Post by notfromthisgalaxy on Jun 14, 2018 18:09:36 GMT -6
Z;Vagabond | Soldier
"Never before has the song of War,
been the song of Hope ascending." Thank whatever god is listening because the cook actually understood what they were trying to say- what a breath of fresh air. At least they would have someone in this damn bunker to talk to. That was if the cook ever lets onto wanting the new member around.
Z's own brow wrinkles at the question. What someone else named after a letter in the alphabet? How many more would they run into? O. It sounded familiar enough, but they couldn't put the name to a face.
'Sounds familiar,' nodding their head in an up and down motion. But that seems to be about all that they know on the subject as their mind goes blank. 'I haven't ran into anyone by the name of O lately.' The former Merc shakes their head side to side, eyebrows knitting even farther down in thought.
Glancing down at the floor, Z does their best to think over what has been said. Hopefully, it wasn't anyone important to the cook cause Z knew they would be little to no help if that was the cause. 'Someone you know?' They ask, cocking their head to the side.
So far if anyone was friends with the Hippocampus, Z would find that hard to believe.
WC: 208 | Post #3 |
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