Tuesday, May 8th, 2012

[identity profile] seaweed-demigod.livejournal.com
It was warm enough to head to the beach but Percy wasn't feeling like walking all the way into town today. He still wanted to be in the water but the beach meant sand in his shoes and salt water in his eyes. Of course, chlorine wasn't much better but it was closer.

So, Percy took himself down to the pool and, after stripping down to his swimsuit, jumped in. He did a few lazy laps, just enjoying how being in the water immediately made him feel stronger and more at home. After those laps, he let himself sink down to the bottom of the pool.

And that's where he was now, just sitting cross legged on the bottom of the pool, having no problems with that whole breathing thing.

Son of Poseidon and all.

[Open, sure]
suitably_heroic: (lsp: ahhhh!)
[personal profile] suitably_heroic
Okay, Atton's enthusiasm about being anywhere not-Nar-Shaddaa had evaporated at impressive speed.

That was probably just because Atton was as Atton did, really. He couldn't exist for very long without finding something to complain about.

Still, the novelty of it all hadn't quite worn off yet; not that you could tell, by the way he had sprawled all over the common room couch, feet on the table, a bowl of some strange local snack food at his side and a bottle of let's-just-say-it's-pop-even-though-it-isn't in his hand.

Watching TV.

Something called Deadliest Warrior, as a matter of fact. "You call that shooting?" he said, digging his fingers back into the snack bowl. "Does anyone on this planet even know what a firefight looks like?"

[[ open! ]]
wasthecuteone: (laughing in profile)
[personal profile] wasthecuteone
Petra had come to the common room to watch TV while she did her nails, but she hadn't gotten quite as far as the 'doing her nails' part yet. This was because, while channel surfing for something to watch while doing her nails, she'd encountered a flashback. At first she just sort of stared at the TV screen, stunned to realize they still had boy bands in this dimension--she'd kind of thought they'd worn out their welcome years ago, and had frankly found that a relief--and momentarily insulted that the song implied that the only reason someone would wear makeup was "to cover up." Hello, maybe the fictional girl in the song just liked makeup. But then one of these babyfaced teenagers with hair that looked like a bunch of seagulls had attacked it earnestly sang that to prove he was right, he put it in a song, and the idea that being in a song made something right struck her as so funny the whole thing hit her at once, and she wound up laughing so hard tears ran down her face and she fell off the couch.

Okay. This wasn't exactly a flashback, although the terribleness of that hair was pretty familiar. There was the fact that, "You don't even dance!" as Petra hauled herself up via the coffee table to shout at the screen before collapsing with the giggles once again.

So, yes. Anyone entering the fifth floor common room, or simply passing by, would find a British boy band singing on the TV and Petra West laughing herself sick. Business as usual?

((I had to. Open common room is open. Come mock One Direction with Petra! Or defend them. Whatever floats your character's boat.))

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