revivalproject | Cake Dance Mingle!

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Cake Dance Mingle!

WHO: Richie Tozier and You! Mingle Away!
WHERE: Aboard the Cake Dance
WHAT: Mingle for the new crew
WHEN: Right after the ship swap
WARNINGS: So much glitter.

The ship itself is a complete monstrosity. All the pastels and the rosy lights make the whole place look like a kindergarten class. And then the new food dispenser that really just spits out glitter. Lots of interesting and random glitter. It's a nightmare, honestly. An entire nightmare.

And now it's Richie's new home.

He walks around the whole thing with a scowl. His face and hair are covered in glitter and some of the glitter glue is still stuck to his fingers and parts of his clothes. It's terrible. Even the bedroom is colored in all the different nonsense colors. He pokes a finger at a light purple blanket on top of a green bed with red pillows.

"Awesome. It's like fucking Barney..."

The glitter on his hands gets on the blanket and he curses a long stream.

"Arts and crafts herpes. Fucking never get rid of it ever..."

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There's a two-for-one deal on new shipmates; not only is there a point-eared little woman checking out the ship, there's also a wolf. The latter of whom is on his hind legs, paws on the counter, licking at the nozzle of the protein dispenser.

The woman, meanwhile, seems most interested in the cargo bay, as the largest empty space on the ship. But it's not exactly an oasis of peace with all the colors, now is it?

Richie walks into the kitchen area, sees the wolf, and then slowly starts backing up, eyes wide and terrified. Okay. Was this an Earth Wolf, an Agrii Wolf, or some other Wolf from Planet Weird? Either way, Richie is pretty sure all wolves can tear his face off so he's ready to get out of here while it's distracted with the dispenser.

The wolf hears Richie, and looks up from the machine to sniff the air, figuring out if he's interesting. He looks very much like an earth wolf--no extra limbs, normal number of eyes, right size. Grey fur and brown eyes and what big teeth does he have...

As he's backing up, there's the sound of someone coming from behind Richie, a quiet voice. "He doesn't mean you any harm."

At least his belonging have been moved along with him.

Jon has been cautious at stepping onto this new vessel he had been assigned to and winced at the colors - and the glitter.

But he knows there is little he can do about this now and if he's lucky they won't actually have to fly anywhere with these any time soon.

He still has brewed himself a cup of tea and has found himself a seat in the awkwardly colored sitting area to let it all sink in, muttering softly to himself. "...they could have spared us the glitter, at least."

This ship is definitely a monstrosity. Merrin takes her time exploring it, nose slightly wrinkled at all of the pastel. Considering her current red and black ensemble, this color scheme is definitely not her vibe. (It really isn't—Nightsisters have the goth witch aesthetic down pat.)

In the galley, she gives that mysterious extra food dispenser some serious consideration, her brow furrowed. After a moment, she experimentally pushes the "semi-solid" button, jerking in surprise when it spits out a stream of glitter onto that whole red and black ensemble—now red and black and glittery. And that would be pink glitter. Shaped like hearts. "What is the purpose of this?" she says with real distaste.

Later on, a trail of pink glitter leads to the cockpit, where she's sitting in the pilot's seat, staring at the controls with a puzzled sort of expression on her face. Thanks to the datapoint, she actually does know what they do, but she also... hasn't actually ever flown anything. Ever. So it's a strange sort of limbo. Maybe it's a good thing nothing's actually working at the moment...

Richie doesn't look entirely calmed, despite the reassurance. He's been bitten by dogs who's owners swore were the sweetest little darlings. Better to be cautious among animals.

"Uh... Yeah." He glances at the voice and back at the wolf. "No offense but I think I'd probably taste better than that gel. I've eaten it for a month and even I have thought about chewing on someone's arm..."

Richie walks into the kitchen area, tool in hand to see if he can just break the damn glitter machine to stop it from attacking someone else. He stops mid-step when he sees the man drinking tea on one of the pastel couches. So innocuous, there. Like a prim and proper Englishman.

Richie knew better.

"What the fuck are you doing here? I thought we had an agreement!"

Richie is covered in glitter himself. His happens to be rainbow stars which... Yeah. He knows he's coming out but this is a little on the nose, Agrii. He tries to dust himself off and notices the pink hearts next to his stars on the floor. Curious, he follows the trail to see Goth Brooks hanging out in the cockpit. No pastels here, thank God.

"Hey," he greets. "I see you got the welcome gift too, huh? Those aliens have a fucked sense of humor." And he should know.

"I'm having tea." Jon answers flatly, then takes a pointed sip of his brew. "I don't remember having agreed to refrain from having tea."

He would have thought this man to have gotten over his issues with him, or at least to have calmed down a little so they might at least have a reasonable conversation. But apparently that isn't the case.

Unless...

"I can make you a cup as well."

Richie snorts. "If you really saw everything you'd know I hate tea. Or maybe you do know and are trying to be funny. Either way, nope. Not a chance."

He glares at the man and doesn't take any steps closer. Like Jon is toxic and Richie isn't sure where the radiation will start. His arms cross over his chest.

"Us being on the same ship doesn't change things; I want you as far away from me as this place allows. Everyone else here might have gotten used to you peeking up their skirt but I'm sure as fuck not."

"Right, but I know for a fact that he had a piglet-squirrel for breakfast this morning, and he doesn't need to be making a nuisance of himself in here. Steadypaw, get down."

She sounds about as exasperated as one would expect. The wolf glances toward her and Richie again and one can almost sense him pouting, tail tucking between his legs and ears drooping.

Jon huffs, irritated. "And I told you that I am not actively looking into anyone's head. I respect your privacy as much as that of anyone else!"

Of course he can understand the lack of trust. It's not the first time he has had to deal with it after all, but so far here, on this planet? He hasn't been so directly accused of overstepping clear boundaries before.

Jon gets up from where he has been sitting and picks up his now empty cup to start walk over to the kitchen area, which means he has to walk right past Richie. And unlike the other man, Jon has no issue with simply stepping closer, actively maintaining eye contact. "We were all brought here to help the Agrii. And I feel that that's what we should be focusing on!"

It isn't easy but Richie somehow manages to look up at Jon, right in the eyes. It makes his skin crawl as the memories come back to him. But still, he manages somehow to stretch a smile over his face. It's cold and mostly teeth--equal parts fear and anger.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're just here to help, right? Funny, though. Did you know that in that weird hero-world, free of my own limitations and able to do what I wanted? All I wanted to do was date a dude. Found Eddie, saw he was cute, and just tried to take him on a date.

"Remind me. What did you do, again?"

The wolf seems a lot less scary pouting like that. Richie couldn't help but smile at it a little. It reminds him of a rather large husky instead of a blood-thirsty wolf. Which...yeah. Makes sense why the girl said he wasn't dangerous, then.

"Steadypaw. Heck of a name. Mine's Richie Tozier, just by the way."

Setting his used cup down in the sink, Jon lets a tight-lipped glare to linger on Richie for an additional moment before turning his attention to cleaning his cup.

"I turned part of that fictional place into a hellscape designed to produce as much terror as possible from those existing in that area." He answers in a plain, honest manner and looks back up just as he picks up a dish towel to dry his now cleaned cup. "You have witnessed it."

"Yeah. Exactly," he said through his smile.

"So when I am free to truly be myself, I decide to be gay and date my best friend. You decide to be a fucking monster that wants to terrorize whoever comes around him. Forgive me if that fact doesn't convince me that you're a good person."

"My people tend to use tribe names that fit the one they're describing. I'm Moonshade." Because she is stealthy like the dark side of the moons and has dark hair. "It's in contrast to our soul-names, which only those we Recognize know."

She walks around Richie to ruffle Steadypaw's ears.

"I suppose I should be glad he wasn't licking at the glitter dispenser, at least."

"Moonshade." Richie looks at her ears and makes a guess as to who her people are. "Ah. My 'tribe' called me Trashmouth. Also because it fit me well."

He smiles and extends a hand.

"My real name is Richie though. Nice to meet you. Can I call you Moony? With the wolf and all it's a great nickname, trust me."

Jon scowls in return. There's hardly any arguing about any of that.

"Well. I suppose that means I am displaying an astounding amount of self-control on any regular day." Just consider that a moment, Richie.

Richie's eyes narrow and he surprises himself by taking a step forward. He's scared--terrified-- but he's had a lifetime of channeling that emotion into rage and conviction.

Finally, one thing to thank Pennywise for.

"That a warning? Or a threat?"

"An information." Jon sighs, then takes a deep breath to do his best to remain calm.

"I already told you that I don't want to hurt anyone. That I have no interest in spying on anyone's thoughts or secrets. I have that power, yes. But I can control it now. I refuse to let it control me!"

She seems to startle when he so easily gives her his 'real name' after offering his tribe name. Moonshade has a real name, what her people call a soul name, but the only other person who knows it is her mate.

(She's going to be calling him Trashmouth, in the future. Whoops.)

"...I prefer Moonshade."

Very pointed glitter choices going on here. The little pink hearts have been practically impossible to get off, no matter how hard she tries, and they stand out very glaringly on her black clothes, even glinting a little in the light when she turns around in her seat to face her new... well, she's assuming shipmate. Her gaze sweeps over him in a very unsubtle way, assessing.

"You would call this a welcome gift?" she says dryly, raising her eyebrows. Her accent is remarkably similar to Russian, which makes her sound particularly unamused.

"You can control it now... But you can't just not do it, right? So you, what? Control it enough that you don't go floating around like a deflating helium balloon? Don't literally make this whole place a hellscape?"

Richie sneers and turns to get himself a cup of coffee. He held eye contact as long as he could.

"Take it from one addict to another: There's a clock ticking on that control of yours. Pretending otherwise is just gonna speed it up."

"Moonshade it is, then. Moonshade and Steadypaw. I like it. And if you change your mind about the nickname, just lemme know."

He shoots her a wink and then crosses to get himself something to drink.

"So. I'm taking it from the ears that we come from different places. Where were you snatched from?"

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