Logs:Feast or Phantom
| Feast or Phantom | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2020-11-17 "Some of what she been doing round here is straightup art." |
| Location | |
Halloween has long since come and gone. For the residents of Riverdale, the shadows have only seemed to stretch longer and darker over their once-idyllic neighborhood. It started small -- items going missing, appliances on the fritz, odd cold patches around the stately old houses. Time has not toned down these incidences -- eerie apparitions around the homes, pipes running thick with black ooze or blood rather than water, heartbeats thumping under the floorboards, swarms of roaches infesting homes that have previously had no such problems at all. Just down the block, the pair of Tudor homes recently occupied by some Very Pleasant Mutants seem to be having no trouble at all. In the driveway Ion, dressed as he often is in jeans, heavy boots, much-beaten Mongrels cut over a thick black and white flannel, is brightly eager, bright-smiled as he unloads groceries from the saddlebag of his bike -- and if the power of the house just across the street has abruptly gone out, well, what is that to him? "Yoooooo, fam," his voice is booming, but when doesn't it, "we gonna feast tonight." Scramble is draped luxuriantly on the front steps, enjoying the sunshine, the breeze, and the tail end of her joint. She's sharply dressed today, a fine long-sleeve red silk blouse and elegant wide-legged pants draping just so on her lanky frame, MMMC cut clean and polished and not the least at odds with the rest of her outfit. Her gold jewelry matches her gold and black makeup, and her hair is teased out and pushed back with a bright kente cloth scarf knotted at the back of her neck and trailing one graceful tail down over her shoulder. More than just not touching her, their neighbors' troubles seem to perhaps be doing her a world of good -- she hasn't spent a single day shut in her room in well over a week. "Preach." She rises smoothly to relieve Ion of a bag, offering the joint in return. "Ain't no better way to settle in a new home than partying hard. What's on the menu?" Akihiro stretches, back arching before he pushes up to his feet. “Somebody say feast?” he calls down from the roof before simply stepping off the building and landing with a slight squat. He’s recently dyed his hair again, settling on a soft blue for his cheek length locks. The weather has him more bundled up than usual, wearing an orange trench coat over a white t-shirt, a pair of black jeans, and a pair of tan work boots. “Need any help grabbing things?” "Hell yeah." Ion pulls a case of beers out of the opposite saddlebag, handing it off to Akihiro and then setting a second in the other man's arms. He plucks the joint from Scramble, puffing on it as he scoops up another grocery bag to rest in the crook of his arms. "Wassa menu? I'mm'a cook this up good. With flavor. Is lady mama's birthday, she work hard, oughtta eat right today." Heedless of the armload of beers he offers the joint to Akihiro with a lift of his brows. "Not easy being fifty ghost in a labcoat." Scramble laughter is soft and relaxed as she peers into the grocery bag she's nabbed. "Can't argue with that. Can't believe you've ever cooked anything without flavor, neither." She somewhat automatically takes one of the cases of beer from Akihiro to leave him a hand free. "I'd've picked up more of the slack on the gaslighting except these crackers don't wanna get anywhere near me. Lucky thing you two been going hard -- and some of what she been doing round here is straightup art." “I appreciate it, but I’ll need more than that to catch a buzz.” Akihiro says with a grin before using his newly freed hand to fish out a vape from inside his coat pocket, the tank on it clearly marked with ‘THC’ across the side. “Maybe I put a bunch of Vietnam Veteran signs up and they’ll mind their fucking business. Need an old white guy around to pull that one off though.” He presses the power button five times before bringing the cartridge to his lips and drawing on it, the device cracking softly for a few moments before an unexpected cough tears it’s way out of him. The device is offered out to either of the others while he collects himself. "Maaan, the fuck you on about." Ion eyes the vape, but does Not touch it. "What in that thing, since when your lungs get weak?" He hands the joint back to Scramble, pulling out the last of the food and closing up the sturdy side cases before he starts back toward the house. "Psh, I get you near 'em. Me and Regan get you near 'em. Suck all them brainjuices out while they sleep, make her ghosts hit that much harder. Be full-on Amityville round here." He waves a hand toward the neighboring houses as he heads into the garage. Scramble lifts her slender eyebrows at Akihiro. "Damn, if that shit can make you cough it'll probably kill our asses." She opts for finishing off her own joint, instead, depositing the charred remnants of the wrapping paper in a bejeweled flip-top ashtray on the front stood styled like a Fabergé egg. "Some feasting and partying after we feast and party, huh?" There's an eager glint in her dark eyes as she holds the door open for the others. "Brother, I like the way you think." “Shit, sorry, I forgot.” A sheepish looking grin pulls at the corners of Akihiro‘s mouth as he follows behind. “Pretty sure this one is cherry diesel. I got a little too cocky, it had to humble me. Should have some wax coming in later, hopefully I can pick it up in time for the party.” He heads into the doorway and falls back so he can take up the rear, “They shouldn’t be able to take much more of it, these people have had it too good for too long.” "Hell yeah." Ion's grin flashes bright at the others. "He bring the treats, I got the food and then," he's bumping Scramble's shoulder with his own on the way in, "neighbors gonna supply some games huh? We should have us a birthday every day." | |
