fandomhighdorms | 2nd Floor Common Room, Wednesday Morning

Entry tags:

2nd Floor Common Room, Wednesday Morning

Vette was... not looking so great. Wasn't feeling so great, either, but her response to the throbbing headache and the grey skin and the claws, beyond a frustrated screech, was mostly to decide that she needed to rend something with her... increasingly sharp teeth. Really, with the way her head was changing shape and the somewhat unexpected new dental situation, she was starting to look more like a Twi'lek male when she looked in the mirror, if not for the horror eyes situation, and the fact that her ear cones were remaining cones, hooray.

Anyway, the solution to today's frustration (it was even frustrating that she only felt frustrated, that she couldn't find it in her to panic about this, but at least she was able to think, wasn't necessarily having a repeat of the vampire situation and that hadn't been permanent) was clearly to go rummaging through the fridge, head-tails twitching angrily behind her, looking for the biggest, most raw-looking slab of meat she could find.

... An entire package of bologna would do. Nobody mind the snarling grey Twi'lek furiously gnawing her way through that while trying to find something she actually wanted to watch on the television this morning. Really.

[OOC: Open! I had to infect Vette, the game gives me a (nightmarish) companion customization that is perfect for today, how could I not?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

Mae herself was definitely feeling a resurgence of 'we're all pawns in a vast game played by callous, omnipotent, unknowable forces', but she kind of did that whenever she got upset, so.

"I aim to please."

She kinda didn't.

But she didn't entirely want to upset people.

Yet.

"Let me know what the doctor says?"

As creepy as Vette was being, she was still Mae's friend, dammit. She wanted her to be okay.

. . . If they made it to Friday's class, the Lilac/Nightmare rivalry finale would be a horror show.

"You'll be the first I call," Vette promised.

The doctor would be so perplexed.

Or just properly horrified. This wasn't Fandom's first go-round with this gunk, after all.

"Cool," Mae said. It seemed like she should also say something else, in a 'you're my friend and I care about you' kind of way. "I hope they have a cure because it's kind of hard to look at you right now."

She didn't have a lot of experience with being friendly and caring.

Vette regarded Mae for a moment with those creepy dark eyes. And then just nodded a little.

"It'll change," she replied. She could feel it changing. How much worse could it get?

... Much worse.

"That's maybe not as reassuring as you think it is," Mae said. "Just, you know. A heads up."

Vete's lekku twitched a little bit more.

"... So you don't want it to change?"

Jeeze, Mae! Pick one!

Mae was bad at words sometimes, okay?

"There are too many directions in which 'change' could mean 'worse'," she said. "Like, what if your head-thingies changed and grew, like, spikes as well as turning into tentacles?"

Oh god. Please say she had not just given Vette's lekku ideas.

"... That sounds kind of cool," Vette said, after a moment's pause. Her lekku writhed a little, as though agreeing with the sentiment completely independently of Vette's own opinions. "Just imagine how dangerous they'd be. Nobody would ever grab and pull on one of them again!"

Even without becoming a creepy eldritch horror, Vette would have been all over any idea that didn't make for easy grabbing of her lekku.

Mae watched the writhing of the lekku, feeling faintly ill.

". . . Okay," she said at length, because, yeah, she could see the attraction of that if it weren't for the whole eldritch horror side of the whole thing. "But yeah. I'm just saying. Change doesn't have to mean better."

"No, I guess it doesn't," Vette admitted, after a pause. "But 'worse' is kinda relative anyway, isn't it?"

Yes. Yes it was.

"See, now you're just making my headache worse."

"Sorry," Vette replied, and she actually meant that, smiling a far-too-toothy smile in apology. "Should I stop?"

Mae sighed and went to sit down (not next to Vette, though). "It's probably not actually your fault," she said. "My head is kind of fucked, generally."

"Messy thoughts?" Vette did that unnerving headtilt thing again. Genuinely curious. "The kind that spirals a little bit until it's eating your everything else?"

... She knew those. Even when she wasn't creepy incarnate.

"Dr. Hank says it's 'anger issues'. But . . . yeah. Kinda." That was as good a description of it as she'd managed yet. "And it ends up feeling like if you don't do something, everything will fall apart. But you don't know what the something is."

"So you just kind of keep doing everything but that's too much, and you try nothing instead and that doesn't help either," Vette mused. "And pretending it doesn't exist doesn't make it go away but at least if you pretend good enough, nobody ever has to know how inside-out your head is, at least until you crack."

... Was that a more or less effective statement when accompanied by a sick crunch sound just because Vette had lifted a hand to gesture?

. . . Oh god, Vette. They were almost having a nice conversation here.

Mae's ears flattened, and she had to bite her lip at that sound. But other than that -- "Yeah. And when you do crack --" nooooooooo "-- you end up having to leave town because no one looks at you the same anymore."

To be fair, that was because she'd put a boy in the hospital. Details.

"That's usually when I would take another job back home," Vette admitted. "Something big and dumb and dangerous. The kind of thing my crew would think I'm crazy for trying, and then I come back and people are dead and they had it coming anyway, I got it done."

... That probably would have been just as casual even if she wasn't halfway to monstertown right now.

Probably.

". . . You kill people?"

Mae was honestly not at all sure what to think about that idea. On the one hand, there was the whole 'killing was wrong'. On the other, she had put a boy in the hospital with a baseball bat. And had had a lot of fun taking on the vampires not that long ago.

"Some people really, really have it coming to them," Vette confided. "Yeah."

And a shrug.

Even that seemed like it was hinged the wrong way.

Mae was hoping those joints were somehow supposed to work like that in Vette's species.

She was pretty sure they weren't.

"I guess I can see that," she said. "I mean, there are some really fucking terrible people out there."

She still wasn't sure how she felt about it, though.

"You don't know the half of it," Vette replied. And that, at least, came out of her mouth more... flat than anything. Tired. Normal, even, if coming from a girl who had clearly done too much living already, for somebody of her age. "You know what, maybe now's not a great time for that conversation, though. I've got reasons. I think they're good reasons, but I come with a definite bias."

And that tired seemed to even linger for a moment before her mind drifted, thoughts wandering to Three-Eyes and the Hutt that came before and the spice mines, and she hunkered down a little bit and snarled.

Mae had so many questions.

But she wouldn't necessarily want to tell anyone all about the Incident back home, so she knew better than to ask.

"Okay," she said instead, giving a little (normal) shrug. "Um. Do you want me to get you more bologna?"

2nd Floor Common Room, Wednesday Morning

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)