[ooc: au workshop comment here! also his au name is basil and i'll probably fuck that up more than once.]
I. THE FAULT IN OUR GLOW-IN-THE-DARK STARS
[there’s a little trail of discarded sticker packs leading up to one of the walls of the dome. following the trail only leads to basil, bundled up in a parka that squeaks every time he reaches up to position a star-shaped glow-in-the-dark sticker. from the looks of it, he’s been at this for awhile, grouping the stars into two clusters that almost resemble eyes. currently, he’s working on the mouth, comprised solely of all the single crescent moons.
except. he’s run out. there’s only one moon per package as opposed to all fifty million stars crammed inside each one. he’s in a pickle, scowling quizzically at the star he’s debating placing mid-mouth.
luckily, you’ve come to help.]
Does this look weird?
[he didn’t even look back to see you. he’s that focused.]
II. HAPPY FEET MINUS THE PENGUINS
[remember the billie jean music video? that’s happening. except this time instead of a solo performance, it’s a mix between a duet and a race. basil doesn’t chase after the light, he dances with it, a modern gene kelly weaving with the light through the city streets. it’s a pretty mindless, blissful activity that he seems sincerely ecstatic performing–
–up until he spots the subway tunnel. then it’s a stop short and a frown. he stands still for a minute, listening, hearing nothing, and then crouching down, as if to get a better look inside.]
Guess it’s as good a spot as any to have a rave.
[why else would fancy ass lights guide people there.]
III. NO BETTER TRICK THAN GOOD HOSPITALITY
[you know what’s a great hiding place for refuge from the war outside? a nice old italian restaurant. despite the chaos outside, it seems peaceful. filled with regular early-birds and the occasional young parents, trying to convince their child it wants some spaghetti. overall, it seems like a nice place to sit down, relax, grab a drink or a bite to eat, and maybe plot out your next move.
at some point, the waiter will come over. either after you’ve ordered food or while you’re still considering the menu. maybe he’s bringing you some drinks. either way he comes up to you with a small smile, hands you your food or drink or whatever.]
Oh, and one more thing. [basil holds up a finger and reaches into the pocket of his apron. he pulls out a blue laser gun and aims it straight at you.
he’s still smiling though it seems less timid than it once did.] Bad luck~★
baroona | ares
I. THE FAULT IN OUR GLOW-IN-THE-DARK STARS
[there’s a little trail of discarded sticker packs leading up to one of the walls of the dome. following the trail only leads to basil, bundled up in a parka that squeaks every time he reaches up to position a star-shaped glow-in-the-dark sticker. from the looks of it, he’s been at this for awhile, grouping the stars into two clusters that almost resemble eyes. currently, he’s working on the mouth, comprised solely of all the single crescent moons.
except. he’s run out. there’s only one moon per package as opposed to all fifty million stars crammed inside each one. he’s in a pickle, scowling quizzically at the star he’s debating placing mid-mouth.
luckily, you’ve come to help.]
Does this look weird?
[he didn’t even look back to see you. he’s that focused.]
II. HAPPY FEET MINUS THE PENGUINS
[remember the billie jean music video? that’s happening. except this time instead of a solo performance, it’s a mix between a duet and a race. basil doesn’t chase after the light, he dances with it, a modern gene kelly weaving with the light through the city streets. it’s a pretty mindless, blissful activity that he seems sincerely ecstatic performing–
–up until he spots the subway tunnel. then it’s a stop short and a frown. he stands still for a minute, listening, hearing nothing, and then crouching down, as if to get a better look inside.]
Guess it’s as good a spot as any to have a rave.
[why else would fancy ass lights guide people there.]
III. NO BETTER TRICK THAN GOOD HOSPITALITY
[you know what’s a great hiding place for refuge from the war outside? a nice old italian restaurant. despite the chaos outside, it seems peaceful. filled with regular early-birds and the occasional young parents, trying to convince their child it wants some spaghetti. overall, it seems like a nice place to sit down, relax, grab a drink or a bite to eat, and maybe plot out your next move.
at some point, the waiter will come over. either after you’ve ordered food or while you’re still considering the menu. maybe he’s bringing you some drinks. either way he comes up to you with a small smile, hands you your food or drink or whatever.]
Oh, and one more thing. [basil holds up a finger and reaches into the pocket of his apron. he pulls out a blue laser gun and aims it straight at you.
he’s still smiling though it seems less timid than it once did.] Bad luck~★