When in doubt, act petty and childish [Open]

[earthborn]

Who| Shepard, and probably Pruna, Sandy, Duck, and Pillow Fort, and OPEN
What| Pillow Fort!
Where| PILLOW FORT IN THE TRIBUTE CENTER LOBBY
When| Last week or so of the Arena
Warnings/Notes| Pillow Fort, harsh language, possible description of drug use and/or arena doings, Pillow Fort

It took an enterprising mind to understand the subtleties of this art-form. There had to be balance, and tension, or your structure would collapse. Even the most durable of available materials was squishy at best, and you always ended up wanting another inch of length on the roof, another few grams before supports collapsed, or bent. And nothing, nothing would just stand there and hold itself up.

In the end, they’d resorted to thumbtacks, hammered with a shoe or pressed in, to hold up the bedsheets against the walls. Even so, it was better not to lean too close to the stolen couch cushions on the opposite side, or the whole left wing might come down with a series of pops and pings. Well, it was probably fine, it wasn’t as if this were some kind of permanent arrangement, after all.

What? What is she doing? No, not doing, it’s all done.

Shepard has built, with a little help, a pillow fort.

Well, it’s more than just a fort, it’s a castle, an edifice! It took up nearly the whole of the Tribute Center Lobby with a riot of bedsheets, pillowcases, safety pins and couch cushions. Calling it a mere hidey-hole would not do justice to the thing. It’s art. It’s filled with pillows and snacks and safe dark places closed in away from prying eyes. Oh, and Shepard too. She’s an adult, after all, and this is what grown-ups do.

It’s got a door big enough for anyone to crawl right in, and a boldly written sign that reads “Abandon Hope All Who Enter Here” with “bring snacks” scribbled along a corner.

Comments

[earthborn]

"Get out of my pillow fort."

That was the very first thing she had said, before he'd even come in, when she'd recognized his horns in silhouette on the sheet-thin door. She did not need him today, did not need Kurloz Makara or Fraysong or what the fuck ever his ridiculous bullshit name was.

Typical of himself, he didn't even seem to hear her.

"Fuck you, this is art," she'd replied when he called her fort a pit of despairs (at least, she presumed that was to what he was referring, the bastard), but he spoke right over her, even when she asked, "Are you even listening to me?"

Of course not.

But when he's done talking, she regards the box, gives it a rattle, cuts the tape with her bootknife and then— yep. It's a fucking disgrace. Why did she expect anything different?

"Is this a... valentine? Somebody's gotta give you a primer on this whole human culture business."

[carnagecarnival]

Of course he ignores her. Why ever would he make at to do anything but in a moment such as this?

Furthermore, the Pillow Fort was in the commons and also it was hers. That definitely meant free game. Indeed a pillow fort had to be an art form. But she was still in it. Ergo; despair pit.

No," He responds at last (and derisively) to her final question. "IT'S CHOCOLATES PRESENTED IN CALIGINOUS GESTURE. How the fuck am I to know what all a Valentine is supposed to up and be, and why all should I care on it? EAT YOUR MOTHERFUCKING SNACK TRIBUTE, YOU DAMN UNGRATEFUL RECREANT."

He peers around him, and then starts to scrounge about. He knows she has more snacks in here but...

"Do you even got for any damn Elixir?" He asks, like the way one might ask if another even knows how to damn read. He continues to seek out a soda.

[earthborn]

That reference she knows; he belches about it in the tribute suite often enough as it is. And, as luck would have it, she does happen to have some of the damn gut-rotting sugary bullshit. It's purple flavored. Not grape. Not...blueberry, or even some abominous attempt as 'bloo razzberry' or similarly childish rendition of a fictional fruit.

Purple.

As a flavoring.

It's really only good for chucking at heads, and since he's presented a decent target, he can probably guess what's coming next.

"I'm not eating these you drooled on—wait, you don't like caramel creams?" Because if he's left most of the ones of a particular type, he must dislike them, "You're like a mutant freak of nature, who in the hell doesn't like caramel?"

[carnagecarnival]

Colors as flavoring. His motherfucking favourite.

He catches the soda and immediately brings it around to snap the fuck up and open. That shit hisses like a beast and everything in the whole damn universe is miracles for a single moment. He swigs it back, satisfied.

He lifts a brow at her question and scoffs. "THEM THINGS AIN'T CARAMEL. Them all be a blasphemous motherfucking affront to the nature what all be of caramel. KINDA ALL LIKE YOU'RE A BLASPHEMOUS AFFRONT ALL ON YOUR OWN SELF."

[earthborn]

"You keep using that word, I don't think it means what you want it to mean," actually some of these don't look too bad— but it's the principle of the thing, really. They're contaminated with faintly purplish drool and she's not touching 'em, as a matter of policy.

"Besides, if you keep complimenting me, people are gonna make assumptions," She's checking the label on a bottle of beer, to be sure it's not Dextro-amino. Now is not the time to poison oneself to death, just halfway there if possible, "Did you just come in here to drink my soda and take the piss, because..."

[carnagecarnival]

The Initiate lowers his soda, twists the cap back on, then points at his kismesis with it.

"Blasphemy, impious utterance or action concerning the Messiahs and/or motherfucking sacred things." He recites, perfectly memorized. "MIRACLES ARE SACRED. Proper caramel and sweets make all to be a miracle. THAT," He says with scorn, "GIVES DECEPTION OF BEING A MIRACLE. It makes all to convince a motherfucker it's lies are truths before getting all to ensnaring the deceived in its trap. IT IS A FALSE PROPHET OF CONFECTIONERY SWEET DELICACIES. On Alternia the maker of such things would be culled for this. ERGO, MOTHERFUCKER, IT IS BLASPHEMY. Don't make to try and schoolfeed on that which what all I know more than you. IT'S EMBARRASSING."

The cap goes back off. He takes a long solid swig of soda. Once done his breath comes back out as a satisfied exhale. He gives her an even longer, unimpressed look, hhen he says, "Sure. I'M ALL FOR TAKING MORE OF YOUR SAD PALING IMITATIONS OF SODAS."