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calling_logs2016-07-29 09:49 pm
thygospelevity) wrote in calling_logs2016-07-29 09:49 pm
Entry tags:
"Come, come," I hear it calling me
WHO: Kurloz Makara and OPEN
WHAT: Kurloz sees the light.
WHEN: Midday.
WHERE: around the City of Tomorrow
NOTES/WARNINGS: Cursing, drug reference
He was a terrible friend. This had likely belonged to Mituna. He'd realized this with some guilt as he'd looked over it all the same, curious, uncertain, but knowing he'd never owned technology like this. He had his husktop. That was the most he'd really needed.
It came to life, showing a network, a place beckoning his voice to sound over the masses. Yet he did not begin there, he couldn't not while there will still pieces he didn't understand. Like a transport button. Could such a thing be possible? He supposed. The world was full of miracles. And so, that was how he found himself seeking out something he didn't think he would miss. Scripture? Absolutely not. A shoe? No. Sopor? Who was he kidding it was hard enough for him to sleep as it was without losing that. An empty elixir bottle then, that would do well.
And so it was with that he'd pointed the device at the bottle, hit the transport bottle, and then--
"HONK!" The world is bright, burningly so where before it was the dark confines of his hive. He scrambles, panic rising in his chest, in his throat. Blindly, he runs until he feels a door. He barrels through it and at last allows his eyes to open. The light is still fairly bright but it's all an artificial sort, not the sun.
There's bustle about. He feels the presence of others just faintly, and turns. The creatures before him aren't trolls.
Later
The sun doesn't burn. It hurts to look up at, but he doesn't go blind, he doesn't bleed. It doesn't hurt enough to stop him from looking at the way the light gleams off everything, deadly, horrifying, but beautiful without question. Ships of some sort fly over head. He's never seen anything like this in his life. He has no idea where he is even if he might have a name to it. Right now, he doesn't much mind.
Eyes of yellow and grey take all the world in and transform it to wonder. He's not dreaming, he knows that. He doesn't dream, he only has daymares and anyway, there's a realness to this all even in his disbelief. He wanders the city dressed in dark leggings without shoes, an oversized skull sweater, and undone hair-- shameful, but he hadn't expected to leave his hive that day. He reaches out to touch the art displayed and finds it solid. Messiahs were magical true enough but surely this would not have slipped from the prophecies. There can only be one explanation and he voices it to himself then.
"Never in all Messiah's vast viewing ogle orbs has such dank nip been ever mother fuckin reveled in by a homie cognizant."
WHAT: Kurloz sees the light.
WHEN: Midday.
WHERE: around the City of Tomorrow
NOTES/WARNINGS: Cursing, drug reference
He was a terrible friend. This had likely belonged to Mituna. He'd realized this with some guilt as he'd looked over it all the same, curious, uncertain, but knowing he'd never owned technology like this. He had his husktop. That was the most he'd really needed.
It came to life, showing a network, a place beckoning his voice to sound over the masses. Yet he did not begin there, he couldn't not while there will still pieces he didn't understand. Like a transport button. Could such a thing be possible? He supposed. The world was full of miracles. And so, that was how he found himself seeking out something he didn't think he would miss. Scripture? Absolutely not. A shoe? No. Sopor? Who was he kidding it was hard enough for him to sleep as it was without losing that. An empty elixir bottle then, that would do well.
And so it was with that he'd pointed the device at the bottle, hit the transport bottle, and then--
"HONK!" The world is bright, burningly so where before it was the dark confines of his hive. He scrambles, panic rising in his chest, in his throat. Blindly, he runs until he feels a door. He barrels through it and at last allows his eyes to open. The light is still fairly bright but it's all an artificial sort, not the sun.
There's bustle about. He feels the presence of others just faintly, and turns. The creatures before him aren't trolls.
Later
The sun doesn't burn. It hurts to look up at, but he doesn't go blind, he doesn't bleed. It doesn't hurt enough to stop him from looking at the way the light gleams off everything, deadly, horrifying, but beautiful without question. Ships of some sort fly over head. He's never seen anything like this in his life. He has no idea where he is even if he might have a name to it. Right now, he doesn't much mind.
Eyes of yellow and grey take all the world in and transform it to wonder. He's not dreaming, he knows that. He doesn't dream, he only has daymares and anyway, there's a realness to this all even in his disbelief. He wanders the city dressed in dark leggings without shoes, an oversized skull sweater, and undone hair-- shameful, but he hadn't expected to leave his hive that day. He reaches out to touch the art displayed and finds it solid. Messiahs were magical true enough but surely this would not have slipped from the prophecies. There can only be one explanation and he voices it to himself then.
"Never in all Messiah's vast viewing ogle orbs has such dank nip been ever mother fuckin reveled in by a homie cognizant."
no subject
When Sam shakes his head he thinks for a moment that Sam might change his mind, bringing near a protest from him. But it's about the angels getting through and he realises he's gotten away from himself.
"I believe my world plays host to the angelic already. The seraphim speak from within the void their songs of inevitable carnage..." He smiles up at him bright and sudden, as though he did not just prophesize a great demise. "Your service is great all the same, my brother. May the stars be dusted special for you!"
He smiles more as Sam ponders, waiting with owlish eyes. He starts, blinking, over what he hears though. He gives a glance around the place, huge, alien, unknown. "I suppose I would need not notify the officer if they've not the mother fuckin knowing of mine absence..." What about his cull guardian though? But what about about him?
He grins slow. "Is this a cahoots you seek to build, for I am the willing."
no subject
And then it's Sam's turn to give a little frown of his own, when Kurloz says the people he's worried about are already back in his world, that they might one day go after his friends. He thinks about offering to go back with Kurloz if he ever wanted, try to take them out - but that's maybe a little much, considering he just met the kid.
Besides, he's here to curb his tendancy to jump in to shit, and he's already offering Kurloz a place to stay.
So for now, he just grins back. "Hell yeah, man. Come on, let's grab something to eat and you can tell me more about it."
no subject
Mother fucker says yes. He on the other hand gives two successive whoops of joy with a honk to follow.
"Seeking keep among the angelic! Never shall such righteous preach be believed by mine compatriots Beforan!" Not that they really ever believed him anyway, no matter how he implored his visions were true and real. The life of a Prophet he supposed. At least he had Mituna and Meulin. They believed him. Maybe they would believe all this too.
He's already starting ahead, walking and talking, spinning to walk backwards at times as he does so for the conversation and excitement guide him so. "What libations may we partake! What wicked delicious mother fuckin delicacies! Holy disquisition is due to thee, post haste, but of what? There is so much that ought be told, I do tell! Much that we must see--"
He doesn't stop there.