( OPEN ) system zero

[hating]

» WHO? Morgana + anyone who wants to get hit in the face with a communicator
» WHEN? 5/18, you know, around then
» WHERE? deck 6 corridors, observation deck
» WHAT? Morgana wakes up, thinks her communicator is possessed and then yells at the moons (Old Witch Yells At Space)
» WARNINGS? None, but I'll edit accordingly and warn in subject lines if anything comes up!


a; outside level 6 quarters

[ all things considered, this is not where she expected her soul to end up.

the cold, grimy floor of the deck corridor is not so unfamiliar to her that morgana is perplexed. no, it feels like somewhere she was before, and this dim lighting certainly doesn't help. there are key factors missing, and she uses those to ground herself. Don't forget about those things. It is not the same, she tells herself.

far less familiar to the girl is the device that buzzes. it comes alive, and it's looping message is curious. morgana thinks it's just someone speaking directly to her, and upon discovering it is not a person...

...the source of the noise, whatever this curious device is, must go. metal doesn't speak. morgana wastes no time in disposing of it.

by throwing it into the corridor.

you know, with her skeleton hand. there's a redhead with long braids lobbing her communicator down the corridor with such a disdain for the thing, you might think she was doing it for the vine.

hope it doesn't hit you in the face? ]

b; observation deck

[ the other point of offense was that hideous jumpsuit. morgana doesn't have spare clothing, though, so she raids the room she claims as her's, and can be spotted in the observation deck. the sheets off her bed have been pulled free of the mattress and wrapped around her like a cloak, covering most of her body. this is much more appropriate, she thinks - now, if she had a belt and some way to sew sleeves into it...

...but that's not why she's glowering out into space. her expression is hard, steely; she doesn't look particularly approachable. morgana is standing there, arms at her sides, one flesh hand exposed and one skeleton hand peeking out beneath the sheet settled over her shoulders. ]

...And I'm to believe there were two moons all this time? What sort of madman dreams up a world with two moons? I have to say, it's unique, at least.

[ she's calling it stupid. going quiet, the girl stands as still as a statue. she seems unaware anyone is at all present in the room with her...? ]

What are your ears for if not to listen? Decoration? I must say, my dear, I was hoping you might have an opinion on the doubling of that particular celestial body.

Comments

[oculusriffs]

[the only outward sign that her skeleton hand all up in his business and her new flurry of insults surprised him is the way he tips his chin up just slightly — and maybe that shouldn't have surprised him, considering how their interaction has been going so far.]

[but at the very least, though, Morgana is spared from what would have been his next brazen question, which was if he could get a better look at her hand.]

[it's actually ... really kind of cool? he's never seen the bones of a human hand this close before — he's seen the ghosts of dead selves get fried to bones and then dust by Lord English, but that was at a good distance, and that was terrifying, not completely fascinating. he doesn't know Morgana's story, but she's sort of yelling her way into the category of Weird Dead Thing. Dave likes Weird Dead Things.]

[........]

[what if he just. reached up and tried to poke at where her palm would be.]

[hating]

[ she hadn't expected that. her expression dulls, suddenly, vacancy spreading out across her features like a strike of lightning. morgana momentarily checks out of the building and stops breathing as she realizes no one has ever touched that skeletal arm of her's. in return, a series of events leading up to the acquisition of that arm bubble to the surface as though it were heated flesh blistering over--

she swats him away and with wide eyes, takes several steps back. the sheet falls to the floor and morgana's shoulders are heaving with heavy breaths. ]

...What do you want from me.

[ for what it's worth, the bone was the same as any other bone. there's no warmth to it, just ossein. her tone matches that coolness: a frigidity that is so biting it might seem like snake venom. even so, there's a hint of humanity in that girl's yellow eyes, and if stared into long enough, maybe he can tell something about her expression and posture; she's trying to protect herself. ]

[oculusriffs]

[oh ... he was expecting more bluster along the same very entertaining vein she's been giving him, but her actual reaction turned out a lot more painfully relatable than he wants to admit.]

[maybe his own defensive instincts manifest a bit differently — he's more the type to keep his vulnerabilities clamped down under a lid of irony and a poker face — but he just might be able to understand how she feels. the panic, the raised hackles, the immediate move toward self-preservation, no matter what it takes. he understands it every single time he hears metal grinding.]

[Dave seems to have fucked this up. and for a moment, he just stands there stupidly, a hand still raised, trying to figure out how to fix it. nobody deserves to feel as rotten as he does.]

Fist bump. [he says finally, as if that would be an explanation she'd understand.]

Just a friendly greeting on my planet. Y'know, a formal way of introducing yourself. Like a handshake, but a lot cooler.

[hating]

[ "fist bump" is certainly lost on her. centuries as a girl removed from the majority have done morgana's social habits in, made her someone who can barely manage a hello in polite company. "a friendly greeting" he says, and morgana's expression sinks into flat out rejection. ]

A simple "hello" suffices, do not assume that all you meet will be willing to engage in your baffling personal rituals, my dear.

[ she does not approach. ]

You would frighten a new girl this deeply? Wretched boy, not even a simple apology? Why, I'd say it's almost as if you were raised by baboons.

[oculusriffs]

[god, he wishes he had been raised by baboons. a baboon would probably be better at not freaking out the cool looking weird dead girl. he'd probably have a different fursona, too.]

[Creststud Shymane???]

If you say so. I'm kinda getting the feeling you don't get greetings very often to begin with.

[god dammit, Dave.]

Uh. Sorry?

[hating]

...No, you are correct about that. It has been some... time since I've conversed with people so... [ there's a meaningful pause. morgana looks to the floor, brows knitted in thought. ]

Freely, I suppose.

[ freedom? hah. her tone is bitter. ]

Don't worry that pretty head of your's about it. It's empty enough that it'll be full of apologies sooner than you think.

[oculusriffs]

[does ... does she actually think his head is pretty, or is that more like a fauxpliment? like the way she says "my dear."]

Yup. I'm basically a living oxymoronic sack of charm and questionable social graces — by your standards at least.

But, you seem cool enough. I'll even let you practice your insults until you find one that cuts me deep. It'll really help you get that freely conversing thing squared away.

[hating]

[ well... it's the head god gave him, so it's not bad? yeah. let's go with that. ]

My standards are quite acceptable by most people. Only literal animals might find them disagreeable. Are you on par with a crow, Dave?

[oculusriffs]

[holy shit she went straight for the jugular.]

Yeah, probably. They're a lot smarter than you'd think.

[hating]

[ morgana's that way :( ]

"Birdbrain" is a term for a reason, my dear. I'd be surprised if you didn't fall into the filth pit.

[ ...she means toilet, but you know. ] Do try to be careful.

[oculusriffs]

[filth pit.]

You mean a load gaper.

[hating]

A latrine.

[oculusriffs]

A shit shaft.

[hating]

Wash your mouth.

[oculusriffs]

Hell no.

[hating]

Your mouth is no different from the end of a donkey, my dear. Tell me, do you enjoy it? Or did you pick up your colorful vocabulary from somewhere? It comes so naturally to you that I am truly curious.

[oculusriffs]

It's a little of all of those things, probably. I like the idea that I'm an ass's ass most, though.

[best. best friends???? are they best friends yet.]

[hating]

Your words are as noxious as a donkey with a talkative rearend.

[ he talks a lot of bullshit, in other words. ]

I did not ask what you like. I asked where you learned your foul language.

[oculusriffs]

[that's an affirmative. they are bff4ever!! <3]

Man, I don't know. Same place you learned all your weird donkey insults, probably.

[hating]

I highly doubt that.