Monday, January 7th, 2008

[identity profile] my-names-max.livejournal.com
Max was feeling restless.

She was still trying to get a feel for this place she had randomly ended up and she was still eager to find her brother.

But she was intrigued by the idea of attending school, especially in a place that seemed to be unaffected by the Pulse. And she was really intrigued by the professor she had met the day before.

As it was, she was exploring and found herself in the common room. She flipped on the television and was surprised by the number of available channels and the quality of the picture.
[identity profile] therhimineecat.livejournal.com
There were so many strange and unusual things in Fandom, so many new things to learn about and master, that Seregil was too busy to feel depressed.


Television in particular fascinated him. It reminded him a little of wizards' communication orbs back home, except that the content wasn't specific to any particular person and you could control how it works even if you weren't a wizard.


Currently, Seregil was sitting crosslegged on the couch in the common room, playing with the remote. Most of the controls were self explanatory and he could figure out what they did even before he hit the buttons. On, off, volume up and down, even mute, these he had no problems with and he hit each of them several times to make sure they did what he thought they did.


What he was having a more difficult time figuring out was the numbering system it used. At first he thought it was some code to bring up the type of thing you wanted the television to show you – one combination of numbers brought up ghost stories, another brought up obvious farce, a third brought up some kind of organized combat display, but time and testing showed him that these didn't remain consistent.


For example, this time when he punched in the combination that had led to ghost stories the last time he'd experimented, he got something else entirely. Something with a lot of very pretty young women engaged in, as far as Seregil could make out, training for something very much like the Street of Lights back in Rhiminee. Whatever it was, it was intriguing enough to make Seregil forget about trying to figure out the television and settle in and watch.


He wondered what Tyra's House was called and how much she charged. From what he could see, it would definitely be worth the cost.
[identity profile] halfshell-hero.livejournal.com
The problem with being a turtle who owned a giant mascot head and also made a living with it was that every now and again, one had to practice. Rehearsal, really.

The problem with having a giant mascot head to rehearse in was that there was hardly enough room in a dorm room to do so.

So, this evening, Mikey had taken it upon himself infiltrate the common room in true ninja manner in order to lay out several different kinds of pizza, including a few of his personal favorites (the ravioli and caramel came highly recommended), in case anyone wanted to have some sort of munchies while observing him prancing about. The show promised to be good. Where else could one witness a large turtle, dressed as a turtle, making up impromptu party songs and waving about a set of large, foamy nunchucks?


('Tis a common room! 'Tis commonly open!)

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