Zeta 11-Jul-21 11:41 AM
"Duuude, you think I could? My vibe's been BANGIN' all day."
"I VERY MUCH THINK YOU COULD TAKE IT DOWN, FUCK, MAN." This wasn't radical at all!
Though with a breathless little side-bob of his head, he added after rolling his shoulders and climbing to his feet, another charge built in a spectacularly restrained show at his hands.
"Yeah, man, was lucky enough hang onto it!" Technically, this flare situation had granted the scene two decently powerful green-lightning wielders; one unhoned and one trained. And THAT delivery had been equally conversational despite this thing turning into a rather tuneless throwdown (one Zeta was rather insistently fixing to change with an increasingly manic rendition of that song)'
"Ah, hell, I think I missed a verse. Eh - we'll murder them all
Amid laughter and merriment
Except for the few
We take home to experime- FUCK!!"
- and THAT blast of vibe not only managed to unseat Zeta directly into that same cabinet, but did a number on the building too. And for all his talking and lightning-slinging, he was frankly unprepared for the building to actually come down. [4, 2] Result: 6
He'd toppled this time, grabbing ahold of one cabinet only to have its contents unseat him once again; he'd felt some of the wiring in the building pop and fuses blow and wasn't entirely sure if he or the other guy had done it. And he was't sure what clocked him on the head as the building shook, but it fucking exploded behind his eyes in a pop of darkness and sparks.
He very nearly slung the charge he'd been building again but at this rate it would have taken the whole place down, and that was not how Zeta wanted to end his day - never mind Ceci's or his past-self's!
"Y'know I'd do that." Ngh. He gestured with a wobbly vague point of a few fingers, as if the Bandito were actually making a good and solid point about Zeta's vibe and he were merely agreeing. "The Frankie-thing. But Idunno man, I think I've got the more savvy dress sense, y'know? I mean, purple, that whole Gatsby look, who does that, I'd be happy to give the boss some tips, I'm a forward-thinking kind'o guy." Liar.
"Y'know that part where you're flying? Keep doing that." Preferably out a damn window with Aldo in-tow at this point. The segue was abrupt; SO abrupt and without a change in delivery, tone, or volume that if the Bandito thought Zeta was still talking to him at first, it would've been by design. The charge otherwise remained at-bay for this round.
Cecille 17-Jul-21 09:44 AM
Cecille had tried, but he had a way of reading them. It was a bit annoying, really. They watched how what they'd said (or neglected to say) sunk in, gritting their teeth a moment. His apology resonated, their grip tightening again in unspoken—gratitude? Reassurance, he'd no doubt apologized already. They both had. Probably going to be a fucking jackass. "Ah. The usual." At least they could joke away the tension, that half-lidded smirk surfacing for just a moment.
"Well, that is more your domain than mine. I never did ask what concept of time travel you ascribed to." Clearly they'd have to rectify that—but it seemed like the kind of subject that would spark the physicist onto a long ramble. …Something they wouldn't mind listening to, but this was not the time. Perhaps they would ask Zeta if they survived this.
Cecille had managed at least to bring themself down to a relative 'huggable' level, so that Aldo's arm could awkwardly reach around them, and they shifted their grip to his shoulder. One arm remained free in anticipation of The Coveted Frying Pan, but cupped his face in the meantime. "Stop apologizing." He'd have time enough when it happened, surely. They found apologizing difficult and likely didn't want to draw out another one for an altercation that was in their past. The hand stayed in place until the frying pan was offered, their look pointed and steady, and easy to read. How could he be so scruffy and so babyfaced at the same time?
>
"No doubt. You were always a little rash." Said the one intent on wielding a pan. They didn't have to repeat Aldo's words to make it obvious they felt the same way—who else did they have? They felt intrinsically linked, sometimes. The square opened their mouth anyhow, but platitudes went to the wayside at the sight of Zeta.
---
The bandito, by the grin on his face, was appreciating the tune Zeta was belting out, but that didn't stop the attacks.
The entire building shook, and Cecille looked up as everything rattled around them—immune to being knocked down, but very much tethered to someone more fallible. "Aldo." They called out to the wrong one, old habits dying hard, and strained against this Aldo, sucking in air with an expression parts ferocious and tinged with worry. Their nostrils flared with the look of someone about to Commit Violence. Struggling against him, they were ready to use the younger man as a launching pad to throw themself against the bandito, whether Aldo helped them or not. "Throw me back!" It wasn't a joke anymore, they planned to whale on a guy with a fryingpan, if Aldo let them go.
>
Several lights had gone out, those that hung freely swung menacingly, and although the building settled from the initial blow, it groaned again after a few moments. A few more lights popped, and more murmuring trickled up from downstairs, though by the sounds of things, people were evacuating, not coming up to find the source.
"Yeah? Right on. You've got better taste in colours, anyhow," the blond bandito finger-gunned, clearly nonplussed with the fact he'd just stomped the man into the ground. The bandito Zeta had clocked earlier was swearing and struggling to get up, yelling to his buddy about the building he'd just Fucked.
"The hell'd you do? We need to get outa here." He grabbed onto his sleeve as the building let out another low groan, but the blond man wasn't paying attention.
"Flying? Hey, I haven't had anything in hours," he briefly mimed a bud with a grin. "This' all me!" It was at least enough to pause his next attack, though he looked back at his friend with a little shrug. What, the building? It was fiiine. Something cracked in the distance.
Cecille very well knew the comment was directed at them, but they didn't see what help that would do. If Aldo hadn't consented to throwing them yet, they'd get a foot on the ground to kick off and aggressively fly themself in the bandito's direction, forcing him to have to make the choice to Assist or Hinder. Zeta wasn't allowed any self-sacrifice on their watch.
Zeta 28-Jul-21 03:53 PM
Their retort only earned a proper Look, both eyebrows raised. But perhaps he needn’t do much more than that, anyway; Cec was teasing and cupping his face, at any rate, and that seemed to reassure Aldo enough about their future. Some tension slipped from his shoulders, and he almost, almost seemed to want to get one more snip back; he was hardly one to let someone else have the last word, never mind CEC! Instead, he’d allowed the strangeness to sink in, somewhat. No doubt the older Zeta had his thoughts in order about the entire event. For now, Aldo was somewhat fine with this. Things were going to get bad, but they most certainly won’t stay there. And that was okay.
Now they just had to get a grip on their past. “Tell you what. If we figure this out without the building coming down on our heads, you can ask him.” He bobbed his head to the nearby Zeta and grinned a little grin.
They were holding his face; he pulled them in closer until they were nearly touching foreheads, and there was the surreptitious slip of the rest of the frying pan, an additional clasp of their hands for one moment that lingered and covered them even after the pan was firmly in their grip.
Luckily he wasn’t at an uncharacteristic loss for words for long, as their next poke at him gave him a bit more to work with. Even if he was merely voicing what they were no doubt thinking. “Rash, huh? May I remind you who’s holding the pan?” His tone was sly and just shy of a wink.
”Throw me back!”
He was on the same wavelength; if Cecille was one to cause violence, he was always ready to assist them in mischief. As much as he wished to linger, for as many questions as he had or as many things as he was strangely struggling to articulate, and had no idea if this Zeta finally figured it out…it would have to wait.
“‘Kay, here we go. I’ll wind up, try this circus thing.” It was very hastily, badly mimed, but the idea was roughly conveyed. “You try like. Kicking off. Give it a hum or whatever he’s doin’.” A moment as he struggled to mime exactly that and brace himself to be an ideal launching-pad.
And right before they kicked off, he added with a hum, "See y’soon, Cec.”
Alley-oop!
Zeta 28-Jul-21 03:53 PM
Zeta nevertheless looked up at that ‘Aldo’ - old names appeared to die hard as well, even as there was still someone around who was still actively using that name. The charge he’d held at bay around his arms popped and snapped as if in response, too; the flecks and snaps of charges seemed to grow slightly in defense at Zeta’s momentary distraction.
But it was only momentary; he groaned and rolled his shoulders. Possibly ‘accidentally’ allowed a shock to leap free from his hold - a cheap nerve-scrambling, limb-tingling shot. “You fucking idiot man, listen to your friend.” He looked around, eyes brilliant with vibe, flicking about the room, gauging paths to the staircase, to the windows. He could only figure Aldo was doing the same, the goal the same - if the stairs were unsafe, get to the windows…and keep Cec from drifting away.
Lights violently flickered, died. Some burst; it may have given away to one in the room that one or both Aldos were amping up at least some for dramatic effect.
He looked over to Cec and Aldo once more, the latter flaring to life with his own vibe just as he and Cec…oh dear-!
And he knew better than to stop them when they set to a plan. Like the younger Aldo, he would enable.
“Well, gang. Been fun chatting. Less fun fighting for my life and all. But Cec and I gotta book, before you bring the house down, y’dig. And I mean it literally. You’re literally bringing the house down.
“So one more shot. Come on with if you want, but you’re not gonna stop us. Copacetic enough, yeah?”
Cecille 08-Aug-21 12:17 PM
Cecille seemed to know what to say to put a Young Aldo at ease. Maybe it was a testament to that history. Following his nod towards Zeta, they couldn't hold back a breathy laugh. "I will make a mental note."
Aldo pulled them closer, and it was equal parts touching, and quietly hilarious, given how they levitated. They closed the last of that gap to rest their forehead against his for a moment, the movements of his hands not lost on them. Cecille lingered, their eyes half-lidded, and they brushed a hand over his knuckles affectionately, the slightest twinge of an impish grin as the hand of the pan was pushed back into their grasp.
The look of someone about to start some Controlled Chaos.
And of course Aldo was enabling, and if Zeta wasn't in serious trouble they would half laughed—oh, this was Cecille, of course they laughed a little anyhow, a little unhinged, a little lacking in empathy. But their heart was in the right place. Aldo wound up, Cecille got ready to kick off, and after a moment they were soaring (perhaps that was an overstatement) through the air.
---
The bandito was hyped, perhaps a little bit high on his own power-trip, keeping his beat with a sway and a shuffle and a hum. He was dancing to his own music, and he exuded A Good Time. His friend was still trying to drag him away by his sleeve, but when Zeta shot back, catching the blond one off guard for once, his friend promptly booked it.
Unfortunately, though clearly phased, it just seemed to amp him up more for the possibility of a proper fight, despite the lights crackling and going out around him. 'Literally bringing the house down' earned a WHOOP. He hopped in place to try and shake off the tingles and regain composure. "Whaaat? We're just getting started." But he'd take that invite, doing another little shuffle to build up. And--
CLANGGG. Cecille used the momentum of being thrown across the room to wind up and SLAM their pan against the back of the bandito's head as they flew by. The movement was enough to throw their entire direction off-kilter, and they did an awkward spin and summer-sault past the bandito who, completely not expecting that, was thrown forward onto his hands and knees, seeing stars.
The building let out another groan, and all the remaining lights went out with a crackle and pop. Not helped along by Zeta, this time.
Zeta 14-Aug-21 05:36 PM
He barely had time to let fly with a laugh, a triumphant whoop and a "YEAH, EAT SHIT!! WHO NEEDS A CROWBAR!!" as Cecille knocked the trouble-bandito right in the head - before he sensed that tickle and hum of an energy-shift, one that was difficult to describe but nevertheless felt all the same, building sharply to grab him by the throat and pulled him through reality itself, the scenery around him winking out in a pop of light before he had any time to react.
"CEC-!" was a panicked and vulnerable yelp, and then he was no longer there, his burgeoning bolt meant as a chaser after the frying-pan's attack was loosed harmlessly out the window.
---
Aldo woke in a heap of blankets and coats and a small portable cassette-radio player, staring at the ceiling of a tunnel and breathing a little harder than he'd thought he'd been. He'd no idea if he'd cried out in that strange future-space or here, and he looked over to his side, checking to make sure everything - and everyone - was still here, patting himself down hurriedly, staring at the walls to make sure they were still standing, the feeling of the building lurching yet lingering as a waking dream.
For Aldo, the entire strange ordeal would be a memory that would linger like an odd dream for years, even as he eventually comes to grips with his own vibe, comes out of hiding with a new alias and purpose, rising in status among the Mafia and reinventing himself into Zeta, the musician.
He and Cec would fight and fall apart. If it hadn't been a strange dream or another reality, this seemed inevitable.
No matter how terrible things got, he would be with Ceci, again. There was a weird comfort in seeing them old, together, even if that had meant none of his mad ideas of coaxing a vibe out of them would ever work.
At least until a building buried them both.
Well, shit.
He could probably use a Vendybar right now. At least he could whine about it enough to take his mind off of it.
---
Zeta 14-Aug-21 05:57 PM
The cheers for Ceci was in unison, a stereo-chorus of Zeta that hit the same notes if not the same beats.
He'd heard himself scream sharply in distress, but he'd barely had time to whirl around to see what
For a moment he'd thought that Cecille had overshot their target and nailed him with the pan as well. He'd seen them with a crowbar, he knew the kind of swing they could get on that thing.
And then an explosion of stars burst behind his own eyes and he reeled. It was another moment when he realized he had fallen over, that he was nearly eye to eye with the stunned surfer-Bandito. He couldn't help it; even dizzy and reeling himself, he'd forced a cheeky "Idunno, this looks like a surrender, man, doesn't it?"
It was only when he tried to climb back up to his feet and hoist himself up by the nearest furniture that he realized that something was very wrong.
"WHAT THE FOO-FIGHTING FUCK IS THIS."
---
If Ceci had lost track of either or both Aldos in the mess, they would soon find him again on the floor, still trying to pull himself up to his feet and letting fly with every creative swear in English and Spanish he knew and lacing them with musical artist names to really drive his anger home.
Because the Zeta that remained after the younger Aldo had sharply vanished wasn't doing so hot at all.
Because the Zeta that remained was, rather rudely and suddenly, a goat.
A gangling black goat with green eyes, just as expressive as the human and aching to speak with his hands (though he could freely still roll his shoulders), still draped in that green coat, and a pair of horns that would contain the odd bursts of his electrical display like prongs or tesla-coils.
"Yeah. Laugh it up, I don't care just...DOWN HERE DOWN HERE SING YOUR WAY DOWN HERE I'M NOT GOING OUT LIKE THIS."
Cecille 14-Aug-21 08:40 PM
A younger Cecille stirred from under the coats to his left, waking gradually with a sleepy hum. A head popped up, hair shorter, curling, only just starting to grow out from neglect; they fixed him with a tired squint. "What is it?" Cecille's groggy voice barely carried above a throaty whisper. It didn't seem his shout had carried, but he was met with a mixture of sleepy concern and annoyance, shuffling to adjust the moldy blankets they'd huddled under before settling their head down again on anything soft.
They'd contrast that complaining with 'if I have to eat one more Vendybar' knowing full well it would be just another of hundreds.
---
Back in the not-quite-present, Cecille was spinning uncontrolled, throwing their arms out in an attempt to right themself. They didn't have time to revel in the cheers (rest assured, they would), Aldo's scream ringing out and catching them by surprise, scrambling harder to grab onto a light fixture, back against the ceiling. "Aldo! Zeta?" Where was he? They couldn't see the former; he wouldn't have fled with the other bandito... And Zeta was...!?
The blond surfer-dito looked up from the floor and laughed. "Hey! I'm not the one making an ass of myself." Wrong animal. The building rumbled, and it finally seemed to register for the bleeding and slightly concussed man. Or rather, he realized he wasn't really up for fighting a... Vibe Goat. "Think this' me, pops!" He got up, unsteadily, trying to stumble for the door without falling down the stairs.
Cecille was left gaping on the ceiling, but this goat was talking, frankly shouting, and Step City was a weird place. This wasn't so wildly out there. "Oh... dear." What did one even say to that. Gaining some confidence, they coiled up and pushed off from the ceiling to glide down to Zeta's level, grabbing onto his horns to anchor themself, not realizing that was a lot of extra leverage on his head and neck. They weren't sure if their Vibe was enough to levitate a goat outside a window.
"We have to get out of here." The building agreed, grumpily.
Zeta 21-Aug-21 12:55 AM
The Surfer-Dito was thankfully spared any return sass, if only because the musician was now trying to figure out exactly how much of an ass he wasn't. A significantly longer neck was rather good when examining oneself, even if he'd still remained largely covered by that green coat, but he got the idea rather quickly.
There was little time to even properly register horror and frustration that this happened at all - and still, it wasn't every day one got Vibed into a goat. And as often was the case with Zeta, curiosity threatened to override good sense. He could talk. He could still feel his own vibe, crackling and invigorating and strangely comforting in this strange shift. Maybe it was...a goat deity vibe. Or something. It would be mildly less embarrassing.
His horns popped and twinkled with little static sparks. His eyes were still clever and overly expressive, and still quite unnaturally green. He could feel a stubby little tail wag rapidly under that coat no matter what he did every time he'd looked up at his companion, and it was probably, obnoxiously, fucking adorable. With every steady tap of each hoof on the floor as he stubbornly tried to rise and put each foot into a proper four-legged stance long enough to stay upright, he goggled at his feet with an expression and carriage that was somehow, impossibly Zeta even on a goaty face, equal parts vast curiosity and endless exasperation. No doubt he was re-assessing all that he'd thought he'd known about Vibe in a span of seconds as ideas blossomed and burst in his mind - and very very annoyed it was happening to him, and happening now.
He looked around. The young Aldo was gone; Zeta had never known how this event had ended, had doubted the intrusion was anything more than a dream as days stretched into years, and had become nearly convinced that somehow he'd borne witness to a glimpse of him, dying together with Cec.
And he figured it would probably end a little like that, anyway.
The goat thing was new, and the goat thing also meant that it hadn't ended yet, and the idea was bizarrely encouraging.
"Cec! Pretty sure I'm - he's - all right! If we live, I owe you a Dr. Stepper and an explanation."
He was only aware of how often he talked with his hands when the impulse to raise them animatedly and demonstrably at Ceci saw him topple and quickly hurry to catch himself with a flurry of far more taps than was likely, strictly necessary. He rolled his shoulders; the grin was in his voice rather than on his face, though there was no mistaking that note of desperation no matter how he tried to play it off.
"We have to get out of here."
"Yeah, Cec, think I can take the stairs like this?" The stairs could barely take the stairs at this point.
And then all laconic pretense dropped, and the expression in his eyes was an outright, panicked pout. "Please pick me up?"
Cecille 01-Sep-21 08:49 PM
Cecille had to trust that Aldo had been... Popped back to wherever he should be, because they couldn't stay long enough to confirm. And that twisted the pit of their stomach in knots, the idea of leaving Aldo—Zeta in jeopardy. That was a new feeling. Well, maybe not 'new' when it came down to him. 'Unique'.
They held onto those horns like damn handlebars, fighting back something that might have been a distorted mixture of anxiety and breathy laughter at the entire ridiculous situation. They couldn't see that tail under his coat, probably wouldn't have made the connection to its joyful wagging, but they would have agreed it was fucking adorable.
"What?" Was he implying he remembered--that was a tantalizing drop, and a secret he'd kept from them. From them! "You had better--!" They didn't even have time to be properly Indignant, but rest assured, they'd make time later. Even if they didn't survive this. An explanation!
>
Zeta was the one keeping them upright, so his stumbling and awkward attempts to gesture with his hands dragged the floating Square along for the ride. "I... Oh, goodness I don't know if I c—" the building rumbled, crunched, lurched and shook, and that cleared up any waffling on the subject. They didn't have the time. "Head for a window!" The building had few in-tact to start with, and the twisting of the concrete certainly shattered a few more. Cecille wrapped their arms first around his neck (goodness knew it was long enough), but not wanting to strangle him, they quickly shifted to wrapping them around his chest, under his arms; they half-buried their face in the scruff of his neck.
He smelt like Zeta. Maybe that was the coat. Zeta, but musty and goaty. Were this a sitcom, every other word he uttered would be punctuated with a 'baaa'. He was small enough now (hah! Maybe they would have time to crack a few height-related quips; longstanding revenge) that they could plant a foot on the floor, try and push off—urge Zeta towards the first open window, try to get them... Floating? There might have been a lightness to his cloven step, a low-gravity weightlessness as they tested it. They could go up, down. But horizontal movement needed some help. "Go!"
Zeta 12-Sep-21 02:04 AM
"Ahhhhh-man, Cec! Up until a coupla' hours ago, thought it was a dream, almost forgot it. Now it's lookin' like some...prophetic oracle vibe shit so it'd be REALLY cool if we could prove that theory wrong?!" There was something about Zeta's panic coming from a tiny goat that only heightened the surreality of the whole thing. They'd get a more complete story later, surely!
Poor Ceci was rhen dragged along for their partner's rather impromptu lesson in quadrupedal movement; blessedly he was stubborn enough to do it. And Zeta heaved a sigh that shook tiny shoulders as he'd finally, miraculously managed to stand right-side-up on all four quivering legs (though slipped a few times as the building lurched under them), Ceci still in check. It was only with considerable conscious effort that he'd managed to still the impulse to speak with his hands - should he still shook and bobbed his head in a movement that was unmistakably Zeta, despite the shape being decidedly not.
("...Cec, oh my god, you're laughing. It's nooooot...it's NOT-!")
After some tries (through which he couldn't really do much except sort of...hang there, and maybe wiggle some legs semi-helpfully) Ceci finally found a good hold on him, wrapping their arms around his middle and burying their nose in his neck. And with that came an odd reflex and pang he wasn't expecting - he wanted to hold their hand, wrap his arm around their shoulder, give them some reassurance that he was there, that they would be fine. They always were.
That, too, could probably wait until the next bout of vibe-swapped chaos hit the both of them. Just hopefully it didn't hit while either were midair.
Something crashing immediately behind the both of them snapped his thoughts back to the present, and he couldn't help but snort a bit as Cec tested their combined buoyancy. Helpfully he waggled a foot at the floor, and utterly failed a coordinated four-legged jump.
But at least he knew how to Stand Up, now, and he quickly spotted a window that seemed relatively ready to let them both squeeze through. Whew.
"'Kay. Cec? You hum and I run." Or in Zeta's case - walk really really fast - and then keep going, pinwheeling his legs and pulling at the floor in front of him and praying that they'd clear the window-sil before either of them had their brains bashed out by debris.
It was all a bit graceless and flailing in practice - but forward momentum was still forward momentum!
Cecille 18-Sep-21 01:59 PM
'Zeta' and 'panic' didn't connect, in Cecille's mind. It was worrying, going against the 'laid back façade' he'd worked to build. Aldo, though, yes. So that it brought a weird, sentimental pang. But it spurred them to action, even if all of this instilled a weird, deep amusement they knew was grossly inappropriate given they might be about to die in this collapsing building. He stifled it with a cough when he called them out; jostled and bobbed as Zeta tried to come to grips with his footing, attempting to balance and help him along as they floated.
Zeta fast-walked (awkwardly) for the window, and they couldn't supress an involuntary inhale, muffled into the fur of his neck. Hum and float. Hum and float. This was ridiculous. Flooring wasn't very conducive to goat hooves, and even with their help, they slipped and slid their way to the open window. A loud, scrambled clattering to get over the low sill, and any normal person's heart would have leapt into their throat at the height they were about to jump from. It wasn't a skyrise, but still--! Their attempt at a 'hum' was more strangled and out-of-tune than anything. But when that leap-of-faith occurred, the two made a smooth, gentle arc across the sky instead. It was almost frictionless, like an invisible ice rink. And they didn't plumet.
...They didn't plumet?
Inertia continued to carry them in one direction, so that it was just a poor Square drifting gracefully through the air, desperately clinging to a shaggy goat. Their grip tightened out of fear of dropping him when they looked down. "Oh dear. What now?" They'd only just managed some control, and they were a little worried thinking 'down' would drop the both of them like a rock again.
>
Instead that left the pair hanging in the sky (albeit with some forward momentum). The sun was setting, painting everything a rosy orange, and it would have been a pleasant evening if not for that over-present fear that they might drop out of the sky at any moment.
Cecille eventually tried 'directing' them downwards, directing them forward—sideways—towards a building rooftop? Anything, and managed to a few awkward shifts in their direction. They started to get somewhere. Only to be hit suddenly by a short, heart-wrenching drop.
And then another.
And then another.
"Oh. Oh no, that isn't—that isn't me." That wasn't good. The oranges, yellows and reds of the sky were starting to fade to washed out greys, and one could logically assume that was the result of the setting sun, but a glance upwards saw it was still there, losing colour with the rest of the world. Saturation dialed down at a rough equivalent to the rate they were physically dropping, but it wasn't something Cecille immediately noticed (they had more important things to worry about). It was like a bubble of black and white that followed them. The Square was muttering a steady string of "no no no no"s, trying to pull them up as the stop-start drops picked up speed. They were headed lazily towards an alleyway, Cecille doing their best to slow their descent. Trying to pull them up. But realizing and coming to terms with the fact they were about to crash, they finally threw their legs out on either side to try and catch the pair as they hit the ground.
>
They crashed and rolled into a pile of garbage bags, letting go of Zeta in the process; hoping to minimize crushing the poor goat. They summersaulted awkwardly into the loud crunching of bags and cans.
---
The Scientist let out a soft groan, but it was a good minute of them just lying dazed in the pile before they even considered pulling themself up. They needed the rest, to gather their wits. Even now, in a dark, muted alley they could hear music drifting. This sounded decidedly more jazzy, smooth, a quiet saxophone. They finally stirred with a quiet huff when the soft sound of rain pattered against the bags around them. They could have sworn there hadn't been a cloud in the sky when they were levitating.
Cecille finally sat up. "I haven't a clue how we survived that." That... Came out sounding off. Their voice sounded foreign to them. A little more sultry, a faint gravel or grain, the cadence and tonality different from that sleepy monotone they usually maintained. They put a fist to their lips to clear their throat with a quiet hum, looking around.
>
The Square had sat up looking unusually Polished. Maybe that wasn't the right word for it. Their wavy hair appeared perfectly styled, a pomade and careful sculpting of the waves that was one-part Detective's coif, one part Femme Fatal, 'movie disheveled'. In the dim light their eyebrows were harsh, piercing, their lips unusually dark against their grey skin (the light wasn't dim enough for that...!); they weren't one for lipstick, but they looked old-timey and painted. Their clothing was Artfully Ruffled, like a well-suited Noir Detective who had been in a slight scuffle. Where had that tie come from? That hadn't been there before. Button shirt slightly disarray, and the tie was carefully tucked between the middle buttons. But their shirt was still tucked into high-waisted pants. They looked too Well Poised for their current pose on top of a pile of trash.
Looking to their side, they found an umbrella amongst the garbage in perfect condition. It looked out of place. "There is something unusual happening. I can't put my finger on it." There was a grain to their velvet voice, a grain to the desaturated world around them. Straight grey, now. That saxophone was still there.
FLARE EFFECT: Minor Reality Warping: Film Noir.
~~
"Duuude, you think I could? My vibe's been BANGIN' all day."
"I VERY MUCH THINK YOU COULD TAKE IT DOWN, FUCK, MAN." This wasn't radical at all!
Though with a breathless little side-bob of his head, he added after rolling his shoulders and climbing to his feet, another charge built in a spectacularly restrained show at his hands.
"Yeah, man, was lucky enough hang onto it!" Technically, this flare situation had granted the scene two decently powerful green-lightning wielders; one unhoned and one trained. And THAT delivery had been equally conversational despite this thing turning into a rather tuneless throwdown (one Zeta was rather insistently fixing to change with an increasingly manic rendition of that song)'
"Ah, hell, I think I missed a verse. Eh - we'll murder them all
Amid laughter and merriment
Except for the few
We take home to experime- FUCK!!"
- and THAT blast of vibe not only managed to unseat Zeta directly into that same cabinet, but did a number on the building too. And for all his talking and lightning-slinging, he was frankly unprepared for the building to actually come down. [4, 2] Result: 6
He'd toppled this time, grabbing ahold of one cabinet only to have its contents unseat him once again; he'd felt some of the wiring in the building pop and fuses blow and wasn't entirely sure if he or the other guy had done it. And he was't sure what clocked him on the head as the building shook, but it fucking exploded behind his eyes in a pop of darkness and sparks.
He very nearly slung the charge he'd been building again but at this rate it would have taken the whole place down, and that was not how Zeta wanted to end his day - never mind Ceci's or his past-self's!
"Y'know I'd do that." Ngh. He gestured with a wobbly vague point of a few fingers, as if the Bandito were actually making a good and solid point about Zeta's vibe and he were merely agreeing. "The Frankie-thing. But Idunno man, I think I've got the more savvy dress sense, y'know? I mean, purple, that whole Gatsby look, who does that, I'd be happy to give the boss some tips, I'm a forward-thinking kind'o guy." Liar.
"Y'know that part where you're flying? Keep doing that." Preferably out a damn window with Aldo in-tow at this point. The segue was abrupt; SO abrupt and without a change in delivery, tone, or volume that if the Bandito thought Zeta was still talking to him at first, it would've been by design. The charge otherwise remained at-bay for this round.
Cecille 17-Jul-21 09:44 AM
Cecille had tried, but he had a way of reading them. It was a bit annoying, really. They watched how what they'd said (or neglected to say) sunk in, gritting their teeth a moment. His apology resonated, their grip tightening again in unspoken—gratitude? Reassurance, he'd no doubt apologized already. They both had. Probably going to be a fucking jackass. "Ah. The usual." At least they could joke away the tension, that half-lidded smirk surfacing for just a moment.
"Well, that is more your domain than mine. I never did ask what concept of time travel you ascribed to." Clearly they'd have to rectify that—but it seemed like the kind of subject that would spark the physicist onto a long ramble. …Something they wouldn't mind listening to, but this was not the time. Perhaps they would ask Zeta if they survived this.
Cecille had managed at least to bring themself down to a relative 'huggable' level, so that Aldo's arm could awkwardly reach around them, and they shifted their grip to his shoulder. One arm remained free in anticipation of The Coveted Frying Pan, but cupped his face in the meantime. "Stop apologizing." He'd have time enough when it happened, surely. They found apologizing difficult and likely didn't want to draw out another one for an altercation that was in their past. The hand stayed in place until the frying pan was offered, their look pointed and steady, and easy to read. How could he be so scruffy and so babyfaced at the same time?
>
"No doubt. You were always a little rash." Said the one intent on wielding a pan. They didn't have to repeat Aldo's words to make it obvious they felt the same way—who else did they have? They felt intrinsically linked, sometimes. The square opened their mouth anyhow, but platitudes went to the wayside at the sight of Zeta.
---
The bandito, by the grin on his face, was appreciating the tune Zeta was belting out, but that didn't stop the attacks.
The entire building shook, and Cecille looked up as everything rattled around them—immune to being knocked down, but very much tethered to someone more fallible. "Aldo." They called out to the wrong one, old habits dying hard, and strained against this Aldo, sucking in air with an expression parts ferocious and tinged with worry. Their nostrils flared with the look of someone about to Commit Violence. Struggling against him, they were ready to use the younger man as a launching pad to throw themself against the bandito, whether Aldo helped them or not. "Throw me back!" It wasn't a joke anymore, they planned to whale on a guy with a fryingpan, if Aldo let them go.
>
Several lights had gone out, those that hung freely swung menacingly, and although the building settled from the initial blow, it groaned again after a few moments. A few more lights popped, and more murmuring trickled up from downstairs, though by the sounds of things, people were evacuating, not coming up to find the source.
"Yeah? Right on. You've got better taste in colours, anyhow," the blond bandito finger-gunned, clearly nonplussed with the fact he'd just stomped the man into the ground. The bandito Zeta had clocked earlier was swearing and struggling to get up, yelling to his buddy about the building he'd just Fucked.
"The hell'd you do? We need to get outa here." He grabbed onto his sleeve as the building let out another low groan, but the blond man wasn't paying attention.
"Flying? Hey, I haven't had anything in hours," he briefly mimed a bud with a grin. "This' all me!" It was at least enough to pause his next attack, though he looked back at his friend with a little shrug. What, the building? It was fiiine. Something cracked in the distance.
Cecille very well knew the comment was directed at them, but they didn't see what help that would do. If Aldo hadn't consented to throwing them yet, they'd get a foot on the ground to kick off and aggressively fly themself in the bandito's direction, forcing him to have to make the choice to Assist or Hinder. Zeta wasn't allowed any self-sacrifice on their watch.
Zeta 28-Jul-21 03:53 PM
Their retort only earned a proper Look, both eyebrows raised. But perhaps he needn’t do much more than that, anyway; Cec was teasing and cupping his face, at any rate, and that seemed to reassure Aldo enough about their future. Some tension slipped from his shoulders, and he almost, almost seemed to want to get one more snip back; he was hardly one to let someone else have the last word, never mind CEC! Instead, he’d allowed the strangeness to sink in, somewhat. No doubt the older Zeta had his thoughts in order about the entire event. For now, Aldo was somewhat fine with this. Things were going to get bad, but they most certainly won’t stay there. And that was okay.
Now they just had to get a grip on their past. “Tell you what. If we figure this out without the building coming down on our heads, you can ask him.” He bobbed his head to the nearby Zeta and grinned a little grin.
They were holding his face; he pulled them in closer until they were nearly touching foreheads, and there was the surreptitious slip of the rest of the frying pan, an additional clasp of their hands for one moment that lingered and covered them even after the pan was firmly in their grip.
Luckily he wasn’t at an uncharacteristic loss for words for long, as their next poke at him gave him a bit more to work with. Even if he was merely voicing what they were no doubt thinking. “Rash, huh? May I remind you who’s holding the pan?” His tone was sly and just shy of a wink.
”Throw me back!”
He was on the same wavelength; if Cecille was one to cause violence, he was always ready to assist them in mischief. As much as he wished to linger, for as many questions as he had or as many things as he was strangely struggling to articulate, and had no idea if this Zeta finally figured it out…it would have to wait.
“‘Kay, here we go. I’ll wind up, try this circus thing.” It was very hastily, badly mimed, but the idea was roughly conveyed. “You try like. Kicking off. Give it a hum or whatever he’s doin’.” A moment as he struggled to mime exactly that and brace himself to be an ideal launching-pad.
And right before they kicked off, he added with a hum, "See y’soon, Cec.”
Alley-oop!
Zeta 28-Jul-21 03:53 PM
Zeta nevertheless looked up at that ‘Aldo’ - old names appeared to die hard as well, even as there was still someone around who was still actively using that name. The charge he’d held at bay around his arms popped and snapped as if in response, too; the flecks and snaps of charges seemed to grow slightly in defense at Zeta’s momentary distraction.
But it was only momentary; he groaned and rolled his shoulders. Possibly ‘accidentally’ allowed a shock to leap free from his hold - a cheap nerve-scrambling, limb-tingling shot. “You fucking idiot man, listen to your friend.” He looked around, eyes brilliant with vibe, flicking about the room, gauging paths to the staircase, to the windows. He could only figure Aldo was doing the same, the goal the same - if the stairs were unsafe, get to the windows…and keep Cec from drifting away.
Lights violently flickered, died. Some burst; it may have given away to one in the room that one or both Aldos were amping up at least some for dramatic effect.
He looked over to Cec and Aldo once more, the latter flaring to life with his own vibe just as he and Cec…oh dear-!
And he knew better than to stop them when they set to a plan. Like the younger Aldo, he would enable.
“Well, gang. Been fun chatting. Less fun fighting for my life and all. But Cec and I gotta book, before you bring the house down, y’dig. And I mean it literally. You’re literally bringing the house down.
“So one more shot. Come on with if you want, but you’re not gonna stop us. Copacetic enough, yeah?”
Cecille 08-Aug-21 12:17 PM
Cecille seemed to know what to say to put a Young Aldo at ease. Maybe it was a testament to that history. Following his nod towards Zeta, they couldn't hold back a breathy laugh. "I will make a mental note."
Aldo pulled them closer, and it was equal parts touching, and quietly hilarious, given how they levitated. They closed the last of that gap to rest their forehead against his for a moment, the movements of his hands not lost on them. Cecille lingered, their eyes half-lidded, and they brushed a hand over his knuckles affectionately, the slightest twinge of an impish grin as the hand of the pan was pushed back into their grasp.
The look of someone about to start some Controlled Chaos.
And of course Aldo was enabling, and if Zeta wasn't in serious trouble they would half laughed—oh, this was Cecille, of course they laughed a little anyhow, a little unhinged, a little lacking in empathy. But their heart was in the right place. Aldo wound up, Cecille got ready to kick off, and after a moment they were soaring (perhaps that was an overstatement) through the air.
---
The bandito was hyped, perhaps a little bit high on his own power-trip, keeping his beat with a sway and a shuffle and a hum. He was dancing to his own music, and he exuded A Good Time. His friend was still trying to drag him away by his sleeve, but when Zeta shot back, catching the blond one off guard for once, his friend promptly booked it.
Unfortunately, though clearly phased, it just seemed to amp him up more for the possibility of a proper fight, despite the lights crackling and going out around him. 'Literally bringing the house down' earned a WHOOP. He hopped in place to try and shake off the tingles and regain composure. "Whaaat? We're just getting started." But he'd take that invite, doing another little shuffle to build up. And--
CLANGGG. Cecille used the momentum of being thrown across the room to wind up and SLAM their pan against the back of the bandito's head as they flew by. The movement was enough to throw their entire direction off-kilter, and they did an awkward spin and summer-sault past the bandito who, completely not expecting that, was thrown forward onto his hands and knees, seeing stars.
The building let out another groan, and all the remaining lights went out with a crackle and pop. Not helped along by Zeta, this time.
Zeta 14-Aug-21 05:36 PM
He barely had time to let fly with a laugh, a triumphant whoop and a "YEAH, EAT SHIT!! WHO NEEDS A CROWBAR!!" as Cecille knocked the trouble-bandito right in the head - before he sensed that tickle and hum of an energy-shift, one that was difficult to describe but nevertheless felt all the same, building sharply to grab him by the throat and pulled him through reality itself, the scenery around him winking out in a pop of light before he had any time to react.
"CEC-!" was a panicked and vulnerable yelp, and then he was no longer there, his burgeoning bolt meant as a chaser after the frying-pan's attack was loosed harmlessly out the window.
---
Aldo woke in a heap of blankets and coats and a small portable cassette-radio player, staring at the ceiling of a tunnel and breathing a little harder than he'd thought he'd been. He'd no idea if he'd cried out in that strange future-space or here, and he looked over to his side, checking to make sure everything - and everyone - was still here, patting himself down hurriedly, staring at the walls to make sure they were still standing, the feeling of the building lurching yet lingering as a waking dream.
For Aldo, the entire strange ordeal would be a memory that would linger like an odd dream for years, even as he eventually comes to grips with his own vibe, comes out of hiding with a new alias and purpose, rising in status among the Mafia and reinventing himself into Zeta, the musician.
He and Cec would fight and fall apart. If it hadn't been a strange dream or another reality, this seemed inevitable.
No matter how terrible things got, he would be with Ceci, again. There was a weird comfort in seeing them old, together, even if that had meant none of his mad ideas of coaxing a vibe out of them would ever work.
At least until a building buried them both.
Well, shit.
He could probably use a Vendybar right now. At least he could whine about it enough to take his mind off of it.
---
Zeta 14-Aug-21 05:57 PM
The cheers for Ceci was in unison, a stereo-chorus of Zeta that hit the same notes if not the same beats.
He'd heard himself scream sharply in distress, but he'd barely had time to whirl around to see what
For a moment he'd thought that Cecille had overshot their target and nailed him with the pan as well. He'd seen them with a crowbar, he knew the kind of swing they could get on that thing.
And then an explosion of stars burst behind his own eyes and he reeled. It was another moment when he realized he had fallen over, that he was nearly eye to eye with the stunned surfer-Bandito. He couldn't help it; even dizzy and reeling himself, he'd forced a cheeky "Idunno, this looks like a surrender, man, doesn't it?"
It was only when he tried to climb back up to his feet and hoist himself up by the nearest furniture that he realized that something was very wrong.
"WHAT THE FOO-FIGHTING FUCK IS THIS."
---
If Ceci had lost track of either or both Aldos in the mess, they would soon find him again on the floor, still trying to pull himself up to his feet and letting fly with every creative swear in English and Spanish he knew and lacing them with musical artist names to really drive his anger home.
Because the Zeta that remained after the younger Aldo had sharply vanished wasn't doing so hot at all.
Because the Zeta that remained was, rather rudely and suddenly, a goat.
A gangling black goat with green eyes, just as expressive as the human and aching to speak with his hands (though he could freely still roll his shoulders), still draped in that green coat, and a pair of horns that would contain the odd bursts of his electrical display like prongs or tesla-coils.
"Yeah. Laugh it up, I don't care just...DOWN HERE DOWN HERE SING YOUR WAY DOWN HERE I'M NOT GOING OUT LIKE THIS."
Cecille 14-Aug-21 08:40 PM
A younger Cecille stirred from under the coats to his left, waking gradually with a sleepy hum. A head popped up, hair shorter, curling, only just starting to grow out from neglect; they fixed him with a tired squint. "What is it?" Cecille's groggy voice barely carried above a throaty whisper. It didn't seem his shout had carried, but he was met with a mixture of sleepy concern and annoyance, shuffling to adjust the moldy blankets they'd huddled under before settling their head down again on anything soft.
They'd contrast that complaining with 'if I have to eat one more Vendybar' knowing full well it would be just another of hundreds.
---
Back in the not-quite-present, Cecille was spinning uncontrolled, throwing their arms out in an attempt to right themself. They didn't have time to revel in the cheers (rest assured, they would), Aldo's scream ringing out and catching them by surprise, scrambling harder to grab onto a light fixture, back against the ceiling. "Aldo! Zeta?" Where was he? They couldn't see the former; he wouldn't have fled with the other bandito... And Zeta was...!?
The blond surfer-dito looked up from the floor and laughed. "Hey! I'm not the one making an ass of myself." Wrong animal. The building rumbled, and it finally seemed to register for the bleeding and slightly concussed man. Or rather, he realized he wasn't really up for fighting a... Vibe Goat. "Think this' me, pops!" He got up, unsteadily, trying to stumble for the door without falling down the stairs.
Cecille was left gaping on the ceiling, but this goat was talking, frankly shouting, and Step City was a weird place. This wasn't so wildly out there. "Oh... dear." What did one even say to that. Gaining some confidence, they coiled up and pushed off from the ceiling to glide down to Zeta's level, grabbing onto his horns to anchor themself, not realizing that was a lot of extra leverage on his head and neck. They weren't sure if their Vibe was enough to levitate a goat outside a window.
"We have to get out of here." The building agreed, grumpily.
Zeta 21-Aug-21 12:55 AM
The Surfer-Dito was thankfully spared any return sass, if only because the musician was now trying to figure out exactly how much of an ass he wasn't. A significantly longer neck was rather good when examining oneself, even if he'd still remained largely covered by that green coat, but he got the idea rather quickly.
There was little time to even properly register horror and frustration that this happened at all - and still, it wasn't every day one got Vibed into a goat. And as often was the case with Zeta, curiosity threatened to override good sense. He could talk. He could still feel his own vibe, crackling and invigorating and strangely comforting in this strange shift. Maybe it was...a goat deity vibe. Or something. It would be mildly less embarrassing.
His horns popped and twinkled with little static sparks. His eyes were still clever and overly expressive, and still quite unnaturally green. He could feel a stubby little tail wag rapidly under that coat no matter what he did every time he'd looked up at his companion, and it was probably, obnoxiously, fucking adorable. With every steady tap of each hoof on the floor as he stubbornly tried to rise and put each foot into a proper four-legged stance long enough to stay upright, he goggled at his feet with an expression and carriage that was somehow, impossibly Zeta even on a goaty face, equal parts vast curiosity and endless exasperation. No doubt he was re-assessing all that he'd thought he'd known about Vibe in a span of seconds as ideas blossomed and burst in his mind - and very very annoyed it was happening to him, and happening now.
He looked around. The young Aldo was gone; Zeta had never known how this event had ended, had doubted the intrusion was anything more than a dream as days stretched into years, and had become nearly convinced that somehow he'd borne witness to a glimpse of him, dying together with Cec.
And he figured it would probably end a little like that, anyway.
The goat thing was new, and the goat thing also meant that it hadn't ended yet, and the idea was bizarrely encouraging.
"Cec! Pretty sure I'm - he's - all right! If we live, I owe you a Dr. Stepper and an explanation."
He was only aware of how often he talked with his hands when the impulse to raise them animatedly and demonstrably at Ceci saw him topple and quickly hurry to catch himself with a flurry of far more taps than was likely, strictly necessary. He rolled his shoulders; the grin was in his voice rather than on his face, though there was no mistaking that note of desperation no matter how he tried to play it off.
"We have to get out of here."
"Yeah, Cec, think I can take the stairs like this?" The stairs could barely take the stairs at this point.
And then all laconic pretense dropped, and the expression in his eyes was an outright, panicked pout. "Please pick me up?"
Cecille 01-Sep-21 08:49 PM
Cecille had to trust that Aldo had been... Popped back to wherever he should be, because they couldn't stay long enough to confirm. And that twisted the pit of their stomach in knots, the idea of leaving Aldo—Zeta in jeopardy. That was a new feeling. Well, maybe not 'new' when it came down to him. 'Unique'.
They held onto those horns like damn handlebars, fighting back something that might have been a distorted mixture of anxiety and breathy laughter at the entire ridiculous situation. They couldn't see that tail under his coat, probably wouldn't have made the connection to its joyful wagging, but they would have agreed it was fucking adorable.
"What?" Was he implying he remembered--that was a tantalizing drop, and a secret he'd kept from them. From them! "You had better--!" They didn't even have time to be properly Indignant, but rest assured, they'd make time later. Even if they didn't survive this. An explanation!
>
Zeta was the one keeping them upright, so his stumbling and awkward attempts to gesture with his hands dragged the floating Square along for the ride. "I... Oh, goodness I don't know if I c—" the building rumbled, crunched, lurched and shook, and that cleared up any waffling on the subject. They didn't have the time. "Head for a window!" The building had few in-tact to start with, and the twisting of the concrete certainly shattered a few more. Cecille wrapped their arms first around his neck (goodness knew it was long enough), but not wanting to strangle him, they quickly shifted to wrapping them around his chest, under his arms; they half-buried their face in the scruff of his neck.
He smelt like Zeta. Maybe that was the coat. Zeta, but musty and goaty. Were this a sitcom, every other word he uttered would be punctuated with a 'baaa'. He was small enough now (hah! Maybe they would have time to crack a few height-related quips; longstanding revenge) that they could plant a foot on the floor, try and push off—urge Zeta towards the first open window, try to get them... Floating? There might have been a lightness to his cloven step, a low-gravity weightlessness as they tested it. They could go up, down. But horizontal movement needed some help. "Go!"
Zeta 12-Sep-21 02:04 AM
"Ahhhhh-man, Cec! Up until a coupla' hours ago, thought it was a dream, almost forgot it. Now it's lookin' like some...prophetic oracle vibe shit so it'd be REALLY cool if we could prove that theory wrong?!" There was something about Zeta's panic coming from a tiny goat that only heightened the surreality of the whole thing. They'd get a more complete story later, surely!
Poor Ceci was rhen dragged along for their partner's rather impromptu lesson in quadrupedal movement; blessedly he was stubborn enough to do it. And Zeta heaved a sigh that shook tiny shoulders as he'd finally, miraculously managed to stand right-side-up on all four quivering legs (though slipped a few times as the building lurched under them), Ceci still in check. It was only with considerable conscious effort that he'd managed to still the impulse to speak with his hands - should he still shook and bobbed his head in a movement that was unmistakably Zeta, despite the shape being decidedly not.
("...Cec, oh my god, you're laughing. It's nooooot...it's NOT-!")
After some tries (through which he couldn't really do much except sort of...hang there, and maybe wiggle some legs semi-helpfully) Ceci finally found a good hold on him, wrapping their arms around his middle and burying their nose in his neck. And with that came an odd reflex and pang he wasn't expecting - he wanted to hold their hand, wrap his arm around their shoulder, give them some reassurance that he was there, that they would be fine. They always were.
That, too, could probably wait until the next bout of vibe-swapped chaos hit the both of them. Just hopefully it didn't hit while either were midair.
Something crashing immediately behind the both of them snapped his thoughts back to the present, and he couldn't help but snort a bit as Cec tested their combined buoyancy. Helpfully he waggled a foot at the floor, and utterly failed a coordinated four-legged jump.
But at least he knew how to Stand Up, now, and he quickly spotted a window that seemed relatively ready to let them both squeeze through. Whew.
"'Kay. Cec? You hum and I run." Or in Zeta's case - walk really really fast - and then keep going, pinwheeling his legs and pulling at the floor in front of him and praying that they'd clear the window-sil before either of them had their brains bashed out by debris.
It was all a bit graceless and flailing in practice - but forward momentum was still forward momentum!
Cecille 18-Sep-21 01:59 PM
'Zeta' and 'panic' didn't connect, in Cecille's mind. It was worrying, going against the 'laid back façade' he'd worked to build. Aldo, though, yes. So that it brought a weird, sentimental pang. But it spurred them to action, even if all of this instilled a weird, deep amusement they knew was grossly inappropriate given they might be about to die in this collapsing building. He stifled it with a cough when he called them out; jostled and bobbed as Zeta tried to come to grips with his footing, attempting to balance and help him along as they floated.
Zeta fast-walked (awkwardly) for the window, and they couldn't supress an involuntary inhale, muffled into the fur of his neck. Hum and float. Hum and float. This was ridiculous. Flooring wasn't very conducive to goat hooves, and even with their help, they slipped and slid their way to the open window. A loud, scrambled clattering to get over the low sill, and any normal person's heart would have leapt into their throat at the height they were about to jump from. It wasn't a skyrise, but still--! Their attempt at a 'hum' was more strangled and out-of-tune than anything. But when that leap-of-faith occurred, the two made a smooth, gentle arc across the sky instead. It was almost frictionless, like an invisible ice rink. And they didn't plumet.
...They didn't plumet?
Inertia continued to carry them in one direction, so that it was just a poor Square drifting gracefully through the air, desperately clinging to a shaggy goat. Their grip tightened out of fear of dropping him when they looked down. "Oh dear. What now?" They'd only just managed some control, and they were a little worried thinking 'down' would drop the both of them like a rock again.
>
Instead that left the pair hanging in the sky (albeit with some forward momentum). The sun was setting, painting everything a rosy orange, and it would have been a pleasant evening if not for that over-present fear that they might drop out of the sky at any moment.
Cecille eventually tried 'directing' them downwards, directing them forward—sideways—towards a building rooftop? Anything, and managed to a few awkward shifts in their direction. They started to get somewhere. Only to be hit suddenly by a short, heart-wrenching drop.
And then another.
And then another.
"Oh. Oh no, that isn't—that isn't me." That wasn't good. The oranges, yellows and reds of the sky were starting to fade to washed out greys, and one could logically assume that was the result of the setting sun, but a glance upwards saw it was still there, losing colour with the rest of the world. Saturation dialed down at a rough equivalent to the rate they were physically dropping, but it wasn't something Cecille immediately noticed (they had more important things to worry about). It was like a bubble of black and white that followed them. The Square was muttering a steady string of "no no no no"s, trying to pull them up as the stop-start drops picked up speed. They were headed lazily towards an alleyway, Cecille doing their best to slow their descent. Trying to pull them up. But realizing and coming to terms with the fact they were about to crash, they finally threw their legs out on either side to try and catch the pair as they hit the ground.
>
They crashed and rolled into a pile of garbage bags, letting go of Zeta in the process; hoping to minimize crushing the poor goat. They summersaulted awkwardly into the loud crunching of bags and cans.
---
The Scientist let out a soft groan, but it was a good minute of them just lying dazed in the pile before they even considered pulling themself up. They needed the rest, to gather their wits. Even now, in a dark, muted alley they could hear music drifting. This sounded decidedly more jazzy, smooth, a quiet saxophone. They finally stirred with a quiet huff when the soft sound of rain pattered against the bags around them. They could have sworn there hadn't been a cloud in the sky when they were levitating.
Cecille finally sat up. "I haven't a clue how we survived that." That... Came out sounding off. Their voice sounded foreign to them. A little more sultry, a faint gravel or grain, the cadence and tonality different from that sleepy monotone they usually maintained. They put a fist to their lips to clear their throat with a quiet hum, looking around.
>
The Square had sat up looking unusually Polished. Maybe that wasn't the right word for it. Their wavy hair appeared perfectly styled, a pomade and careful sculpting of the waves that was one-part Detective's coif, one part Femme Fatal, 'movie disheveled'. In the dim light their eyebrows were harsh, piercing, their lips unusually dark against their grey skin (the light wasn't dim enough for that...!); they weren't one for lipstick, but they looked old-timey and painted. Their clothing was Artfully Ruffled, like a well-suited Noir Detective who had been in a slight scuffle. Where had that tie come from? That hadn't been there before. Button shirt slightly disarray, and the tie was carefully tucked between the middle buttons. But their shirt was still tucked into high-waisted pants. They looked too Well Poised for their current pose on top of a pile of trash.
Looking to their side, they found an umbrella amongst the garbage in perfect condition. It looked out of place. "There is something unusual happening. I can't put my finger on it." There was a grain to their velvet voice, a grain to the desaturated world around them. Straight grey, now. That saxophone was still there.
FLARE EFFECT: Minor Reality Warping: Film Noir.
~~
Moderators: AJ_89 Steven (played by Robo-Craig) QnQ Hide Miyagawa (played by Monoclejack)
