Re: Petty Squabble [ROUND 1] [Fort Ayers, New Atlantis]
04-17-2011, 08:53 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
There was a knocking at the door to the RV, which had slowed to an even twenty miles an hour once the gunfire had died down.
“Alison, can you get that?” asked Tom.
”You’re closer,” muttered Alison, as though undecided as to whether or not she wanted her father to hear her.
He heard. “I have to keep my eye on the road.”
Alison made a great show of getting off the counter and walking up to the door, bumping her father’s elbow as she opened it.
On the other side of the door was what appeared to be an anthropomorphized cat twirling a doorknob around in her paws. Alison’s eyes widened. “Hey!” she said, shifting back and forth awkwardly. “You’re that goddess, right? You’re in the battle with us!”
”That I am,” purred Carnea, cocking her head with what she assumed was divine resplendence. “Carnea. Doorknobs and locks. Maybe you’ve heard of me. And you are…?”
Alison shook her head. “I haven’t heard of you. And I’m Alison. ‘Alice’ isn’t short for it.”
Carnea looked around the Broderburgs’ mobile home. It was certainly unlike anything she’d seen before, but it seemed rather… impractical. “Yes,” she snapped suddenly, as though somebody had asked her a question. “May I, um...”
”For heaven’s sake, don’t leave her standing out there,” barked Tom, nearly startling Carnea out of her frame of reference. “It might be dangerous, and besides, she's standing outside a moving vehicle.”
Alison silently stood aside, allowing Carnea to float into the RV. The door shut gently behind the goddess, who moved over by a couch and did something approximating a seated position. Alison sat on an opposing chair and watched her with something between trepidatious curiosity and childlike admiration.
Carnea was yet to develop a strong impression of the social norms of the culture from which this family hailed, but children were children, and she suspected she didn’t want to talk to this one. She looked around. The patriarch had his hands on the wheel that presumably controlled the mobile home; the mother pretended to tend to the infant, but shot Carnea a territorial glare out of the corner of her eye; the little boy appeared shy, or else frightened. Carnea gave the only sigh she could muster, a sibilant sound that was really just a controlled hiss, or a purr in negative. She addressed Alison. “To my business, then. I was wondering—”
”I don’t believe in gods,” ventured the girl, kicking her feet.
”You believe in One,” corrected Tom.
Alison rolled her eyes. “I think you’re just a regular sort of ghost cat,” she told Carnea, sternly.
Carnea was slightly taken aback by this. “I see,” she said, after a short pause. “A ‘regular sort of ghost cat.’ Well, I assure you—“
”If you’re the goddess of doorknobs and locks, why did you need me to open the door to come in?” asked Alison. “Are you a vampire?” she added, a hint of excitement coming into her voice.
Carnea licked her nose indignantly. The girl had a point. “It seemed polite,” she answered. Alison looked unimpressed. Carnea pressed on. “Anyway, I was just trying to figure this whole… battle situation out, and um… why do you think you’re here?”
”We were sent here by the Charlatan to kill the other contestants,” snapped Clarice. “Didn’t you get the memo?”
Carnea growled. “What I mean is… there’s an element of showmanship to this sort of thing, and um… what do you lot, er… bring to the competition? On a level of, you know. Abilities.”
There was silence in the RV.
”Well, there are four of us,” offered Alison.
”Five,” interjected Clarice, holding up Baby Emma.
”My dad can beat up anyone!” ventured Ethan.
”We’ve always wanted to travel,” said Tom. “Maybe the Charlatan thought he was doing us a favor.”
Clarice nodded. Baby Emma said nothing. She merely turned her little neck ever so slightly and shot her eyes in Carnea’s direction.
Carnea rose off the couch, suddenly under the impression that there was some sort of struggle going on here and that she was losing very badly. Something about that baby’s eyes… “Thank you for your time,” she said.
”Feel free to stay,” said Tom. “You’re not imposing.”
”On the other hand, we don’t mean to lock you into any obligation to stay,” added Clarice, tonelessly. “We’re sure you have plenty of battling to do.”
Something about this made sense to Carnea. “I’ll see myself out,” she said, fiddling with her doorknob.
”Okay well I’ll see you around,” said Alison. She got up, offered a hand, took a look at Carnea’s claws, and retracted the hand.
”Bye, Carnea!” shouted Ethan, a little too loudly.
”If you need us,” said Tom. “We’ll be… right here.” He hit the brakes on the vehicle and opened the door for Carnea, then addressed his wife. "This seems like a good enough spot to stop for now, doesn't it, honey?" Clarice nodded.
Carnea considered the door. The feeling that she was losing something continued unabated.
There was a knocking at the door to the RV, which had slowed to an even twenty miles an hour once the gunfire had died down.
“Alison, can you get that?” asked Tom.
”You’re closer,” muttered Alison, as though undecided as to whether or not she wanted her father to hear her.
He heard. “I have to keep my eye on the road.”
Alison made a great show of getting off the counter and walking up to the door, bumping her father’s elbow as she opened it.
On the other side of the door was what appeared to be an anthropomorphized cat twirling a doorknob around in her paws. Alison’s eyes widened. “Hey!” she said, shifting back and forth awkwardly. “You’re that goddess, right? You’re in the battle with us!”
”That I am,” purred Carnea, cocking her head with what she assumed was divine resplendence. “Carnea. Doorknobs and locks. Maybe you’ve heard of me. And you are…?”
Alison shook her head. “I haven’t heard of you. And I’m Alison. ‘Alice’ isn’t short for it.”
Carnea looked around the Broderburgs’ mobile home. It was certainly unlike anything she’d seen before, but it seemed rather… impractical. “Yes,” she snapped suddenly, as though somebody had asked her a question. “May I, um...”
”For heaven’s sake, don’t leave her standing out there,” barked Tom, nearly startling Carnea out of her frame of reference. “It might be dangerous, and besides, she's standing outside a moving vehicle.”
Alison silently stood aside, allowing Carnea to float into the RV. The door shut gently behind the goddess, who moved over by a couch and did something approximating a seated position. Alison sat on an opposing chair and watched her with something between trepidatious curiosity and childlike admiration.
Carnea was yet to develop a strong impression of the social norms of the culture from which this family hailed, but children were children, and she suspected she didn’t want to talk to this one. She looked around. The patriarch had his hands on the wheel that presumably controlled the mobile home; the mother pretended to tend to the infant, but shot Carnea a territorial glare out of the corner of her eye; the little boy appeared shy, or else frightened. Carnea gave the only sigh she could muster, a sibilant sound that was really just a controlled hiss, or a purr in negative. She addressed Alison. “To my business, then. I was wondering—”
”I don’t believe in gods,” ventured the girl, kicking her feet.
”You believe in One,” corrected Tom.
Alison rolled her eyes. “I think you’re just a regular sort of ghost cat,” she told Carnea, sternly.
Carnea was slightly taken aback by this. “I see,” she said, after a short pause. “A ‘regular sort of ghost cat.’ Well, I assure you—“
”If you’re the goddess of doorknobs and locks, why did you need me to open the door to come in?” asked Alison. “Are you a vampire?” she added, a hint of excitement coming into her voice.
Carnea licked her nose indignantly. The girl had a point. “It seemed polite,” she answered. Alison looked unimpressed. Carnea pressed on. “Anyway, I was just trying to figure this whole… battle situation out, and um… why do you think you’re here?”
”We were sent here by the Charlatan to kill the other contestants,” snapped Clarice. “Didn’t you get the memo?”
Carnea growled. “What I mean is… there’s an element of showmanship to this sort of thing, and um… what do you lot, er… bring to the competition? On a level of, you know. Abilities.”
There was silence in the RV.
”Well, there are four of us,” offered Alison.
”Five,” interjected Clarice, holding up Baby Emma.
”My dad can beat up anyone!” ventured Ethan.
”We’ve always wanted to travel,” said Tom. “Maybe the Charlatan thought he was doing us a favor.”
Clarice nodded. Baby Emma said nothing. She merely turned her little neck ever so slightly and shot her eyes in Carnea’s direction.
Carnea rose off the couch, suddenly under the impression that there was some sort of struggle going on here and that she was losing very badly. Something about that baby’s eyes… “Thank you for your time,” she said.
”Feel free to stay,” said Tom. “You’re not imposing.”
”On the other hand, we don’t mean to lock you into any obligation to stay,” added Clarice, tonelessly. “We’re sure you have plenty of battling to do.”
Something about this made sense to Carnea. “I’ll see myself out,” she said, fiddling with her doorknob.
”Okay well I’ll see you around,” said Alison. She got up, offered a hand, took a look at Carnea’s claws, and retracted the hand.
”Bye, Carnea!” shouted Ethan, a little too loudly.
”If you need us,” said Tom. “We’ll be… right here.” He hit the brakes on the vehicle and opened the door for Carnea, then addressed his wife. "This seems like a good enough spot to stop for now, doesn't it, honey?" Clarice nodded.
Carnea considered the door. The feeling that she was losing something continued unabated.