entrancelogs | [Open] We're gonna have a good time!

Entry tags:

[Open] We're gonna have a good time!

Who: Tim Drake or Shaun Mason and YOU
Where: Oasis, Jungle, Pyramid
When: Past Lives Event!
Rating: PG-PG-13
Summary: Tim and Shaun throughout the event. Shaun is annoyed by the olde tyme weapons. Tim is just having a good time.
The Story:

[Shaun, throughout the event.]

Shaun is less upset by the occasional hallucination than he is by the fact that he’s wearing period clothes with no armor, and--worse--using a period weapon. It’s not that he doesn’t have an appreciation for early twentieth century firearms, because he does. But the accuracy rating isn’t really what he’s used to in the mid twenty-first century, and when there are zombies around, he prefers to have as much accuracy as possible.

Even if the zombies don’t actually seem to be trying to infect or eat anyone. In fact, they mostly seem like small, angry murderers, but that doesn’t stop Shaun from complaining about the situation. Loudly. A lot. In fact, while he’s clearly enjoying himself, the sound of him bitching about the situation is clear to anyone who comes anywhere near him. Day or night. Oasis, jungle, or pyramid.

“I’m just saying, this would be a lot easier with weapons that you can actually, you know. Aim. And hit what you’re aiming at.”

[Tim, throughout the event.]

It’s Tim’s first event, and so far, he doesn’t see what all the fuss is about. Yes, it’s unsettling waking up someplace new, and without any idea how he got there, but it’s not much different than waking up in Wonderland with no idea how he got there, and he can’t complain about the scenery. He discards the gun he’d woken up with almost immediately. He’s been Robin too long to be really comfortable using one, and he’d rather stick to his strengths.

He does miss his staff. A lot.

So he does the next best thing when he gets to the jungle, and gets himself a solid stick to use if he gets himself into trouble, using it as a walking stick in the meantime. As the event wears on, the visions of Gotham past get more and more disorienting, but he’s trying to ignore it. There are evil zombies to fend off with his stick.

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George rolls her eyes, though she definitely agrees. She just finds it necessary to roll her eyes at Shaun's complaining whenever she can. Especially when he's been doing nothing else since they've gotten here and she's not nearly caffeinated enough for this.

"And if we had cameras." Using old weapons in period clothing could get killer ratings, assuming the lack of body armor didn't make it just killer, but they don't even have that. They just have Shaun complaining. "At least you have coffee."

She doesn't think she's gone this long without coke since she was born.

"I miss my cameras so much. This would be amazing ratings back home." He sighs. He's been feeling a lot more like himself here in Wonderland, and that has meant enjoying doing dumb shit like using period weapons to shoot zombies. Things would be different if he were home, but he's not. He's here with George.

He takes a drink from the flash of coffee he's carrying with him. George in his head is complaining almost as much as George next to him is complaining, but this is all the caffeine they're going to get, so they're both going to have to deal.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

She very patiently waits until he finishes taking a sip before snagging it from him. If he's going to be an asshole, he's going to share. She takes a sip and swallows with a grimace.

"I will never understand why you like this."

Besides the caffeine, which even in this horribly subpar form is a relief.

"Because it's delicious. Don't hate." He gives her a sweet smile that shifts a little toward concern. "How are you feeling?" He know how much fun the desert sun isn't for her, even with the sunglasses and painkillers.

"I'll live." She takes another swallow of coffee, followed by another grimace, and hands him back the flask. But since it's just Shaun here, she adds, in a slightly softer voice. "...it hurts."

He winces, taking the flask back. "Is it worth going to lie down for a while--maybe with something over your eyes--until night time?" That would have to help a little bit, right? And it's the only think Shaun can think of, because it's not like they can go back to their room with its blackout curtains and black lights.

"I'm not a fucking invalid, Shaun." He doesn't deserve her snapping at him. He's just trying to help. But her head hurts and it's winding her up and Shaun might not deserve it, but he'll take it, and he'll understand.

And it would help. Except she'd be bored out of her mind and feeling like the weak and helpless maiden people of this particular era would probably expect and no. For the moment, at least, her pride is stronger than her pain.

Besides, there's no way she'd lie down without Shaun there to keep her safe and while she knows he'd do it, she also knows that despite how much he's complaining, he hasn't had this much fun in weeks. She's not gonna take that from him. Not while she can still manage the pain.

He just raises an eyebrow at the tone, but sure, if picking a fight with him will help her feel better, he can be game. "I just figured that the hottest part of the day was a good time to chill out for a bit, but if you want to press on into the jungle, we can do that." He gives her a sweet smile. "I bet there are lots of angry little zombies we can shoot there."

"The entire fucking day is the hottest fucking part." She takes a moment to rub her eyes under her sunglasses then gives Shaun a glare, daring him to say anything. They both know she's suffering. They also both know she's too stubborn to back down before it gets unbearable. And that, like everything here, it'll only get worse, but then it will end.

On the other hand, the jungle is, at least, more shady.

"There are only six bullets per magazine. Don't fucking waste them."

He gives her an indignant look. "George. When have I ever wasted bullets when it wasn't good for ratings?" He's letting the obvious headache ride for now, because he knows she's just going to insist that she's fine, but he's going to keep an eye on her. He doesn't have any trouble sitting on her to make her rest if he has to.

"Usually you're using weapons that shoot where you aim." She pushes past him into the cool dark of the jungle. It's still hot. But with the leafs blocking the sun, she immediately feels better. Her migraine's still there, but at least her eyes themselves aren't hurting.

"This would have been a great series back home." He shakes his head a little as he follows her into the jungle. "Not sure if I would have wanted to run it, though. I'm not actually suicidal."

"That's one of my favorite things about you." She makes fun of him for being suicidal all the time, especially on camera, but she knows how careful he really is. Looking suicidally stupid isn't the same as actually being it. "Someone has to have done something like it already. I mean, idiots still go after zombies with swords sometimes."

"And I so wish it were doable, because the cool factor is out of this world, but." He shakes his head as they make their way a little deeper into the jungle. "Even I'm not that suicidal."

Though. That's not actually a terrible idea for a final broadcast if he manages to survive taking out the people who killed George. Something to think about.

"At least these don't seem like they're our zombies." Which makes this not quite as suicidal as it could be. She'd still rather they had functioning guns and body armor, but they can work with what they've got.

He glances over at her with a quick grin. "So. You're saying things could be worse. I knew you were an optimist, deep down."

Rude. She glances over at him and raises an eyebrow. "Nah, it's only optimistic if I expect it won't reach worse."

That gets a laugh out of him. "Well. You never know. We might get lucky." Is 'lucky' more familiar zombies or not? Who knows?

"Lucky. Definitely the first word that comes to mind when I think of us." She gives him an amused look.

He snickers. The truth is they are kind of lucky. Their family may have been completely messed up, but at least they got each other out of it. And they have each other now, when they definitely shouldn't. So maybe they are lucky. But they have a hell of a lot of the other kind of luck, too.

"I knew you're agree with me."

She rolls her eyes under her glasses, still amused despite herself. "Let's go kill zombies, asshole." It's hard to think of them as lucky, considering she's dead and he's crazy. But it's hard to think of much that she'd actually change if she had the chance either.

At some point in his jungle trek, Tim overhears a bunch of weird noises, like a cat if cats could verbalize agitation across a much wider range and some angry shrieking. Fortunately, he doesn't have to investigate as the cause of the ruckus come barreling out of the foliage- a green girl and one of the little pygmies engaged in combat.

...Or something like that.

Peridot may or may not have taken advantage of getting into a fight with something smaller than her and is riding high on the fact that she seems to be winning even though all she's doing is slapping the thing repeatedly as it tries to hit back to no avail. She's getting annoyed that it won't lie down and accept defeat, and the pygmy is getting angrier by the second.

The disturbance startles Tim halfway into a defensive stance before they burst from the foliage, and he can actually see what's happening. His eyes widen and he steps forward with his walking stick-slash-staff. "Um. Do you... need help?"

Peridot has managed to get the pygmy into a headlock, cackling all the while. Somehow, the fact that she's stumbled upon another captive in Wonderland's ridiculous ever-shifting virtual confinement barely registers to her.

"No, no. This insignificant lifeform is no match for the great Peridot." Midway through her victory cackle, a spear is thrown onto their path, narrowly missing her. The trees rustle and several more of those pygmies emerge on all sides, waving their weapons and making threatening noises.

Peridot's eyes widen. "...Uh-oh."

"...Uh oh," Tim agrees. He moves in closer and shifts the staff in his grip to try to help with the sudden arrival of a a small army of small zombies. "Uh. I don't suppose you have experience with this kind of thing?" From the ineffectual slapping, he's going to go with no, which is going to make this really awkward.

The headlocked pygmy bites her arm, causing her to drop it with an agitated yowl as she skitters back behind the safety of this new human's legs. NOW YOU CAN HELP HER, RANDOM HUMAN.

"I'm not... exactly built for combat," she whimpers, as the pygmies proceed to do an angry threat display, preparing to launch their assault. "...Unless you happen to have some metal on you."

Please have something metal on you, Tim.

Fortunately for both of them, Tim does have something metal on him. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the knife he'd used to cut himself a staff. He offers it out, while also getting ready to fight. "Will this help?"

Now may not be the time to mention that Peridot has never actually killed anything before in her entire life except maybe a few robonoids, given that gems reform when they've been poofed and she's never really had cause to shatter anything herself.

But it isn't the time to mention it, nor does it even occur to her, as she grabs for the knife. "Yes! Gimme." The knife balances just above her hand, hovering, as her expression goes gravely serious. "Just like the fruit ninjas."

The pygmies lunge from all sides and Peridot waves her hands, guiding the knife in a ranged attack towards one of them. It sticks strongly in its chest, causing it to dissolve into dust, which she takes to mean they can just be poofed like gems. Excellent.

Fruit ninjas? Tim has no idea what she's talking about, but that's fine, because whatever she's doing with his knife seems to be getting results. Exploding into dust definitely counts as results in Tim's book, anyway.

He moves in with his staff, and while he's not causing any explosions of dust, he's also not letting the little guys get close enough to use those stabby knives on either of them. The results are obviously less definitive, but at least they're not getting stabbed.

...Okay, no, he can't let this go.

"What the heck is a fruit ninja?"

"It's some sort of thing that... attacks fruit, I guess." Why do people keep asking her that! "You'll have to ask Chara and Frisk, they- OW!"

One of the pygmies, armed with a blow dart seems to have taken offense to Peridot's knife skills. The little darts stick in her back like porcupine quills, but the poison in them is ineffective. It still doesn't look all that pleasant and it hurts.

But the pain is worth it for the look on that pygmy's face when she doesn't fall down dead and turns her magnet-guided knife on it. "Heh heh."

That. Makes no sense.

Tim, meanwhile, shares no such immunity to poison darts, and is intensely glad to not be their target, this time. The little zombies seem to be content to stick to melee attacks with him, which is making the whole "not getting turned into a pincushion" thing a lot easier on him.

He glances over. The laugh seems to suggest that she's all right, but it doesn't hurt to check in. "You okay?"

"It takes a lot more than a few needles to destabilize a Peridot's form." She continues to move her arms in erratic movements, trying to guide the knife. The pygmies, knowing they are thoroughly outclassed and also this green goblin thing is FREAKY AS HELL, decide to retreat with angry squeals, some of them even throwing rocks and twigs as they depart, as if to discourage pursuit.

Or maybe just to assure they get the last 'word' somehow.

Peridot watches them depart with a gleeful expression, pointing and laughing. "Hah! Look at them run! They've clearly never seen such elegance and precision in combat before."

Okay, 'elegance and precision' aren't exactly the terms Tim would use, but it's not like he can argue with the results. And he's not at all interested in pursuing, so he stands down, glancing at his new... uh. Comrade in arms.

"How did you do that?"

She reaches behind her to try and pull some of the darts out of her back, struggling a bit because she has short limbs. This would be so much easier with shapeshifting.

"I have metal powers!" She beams, hand finally closing around a dart and yanking it free. "Impressive, huh?"

Edited (wrong format whiips) 2017-01-31 20:39 (UTC)

"Uh. Let me help you with some of those." Tim moves toward her to help take some of the darts out. Hopefully before the poison starts to have an effect, though that's probably not very likely. "And yeah, it was really impressive. That works with any metal?"

Poison is terribly ineffective against light-based lifeforms, but Peridot appreciates him getting the ones she can't reach anyway. They're irritating, if nothing else.

"It works better when the metal has no impurities, but of course any metal. I lifted an entire earth vehicle once!"

Right into the hayloft of the barn.

His eyebrows go up. "Wow. I think I can safely say I have never lifted an earth vehicle--or any other vehicle for that matter. Aside from a bicycle, but those are pretty light. So I'm definitely impressed."

"You should be." She brushes a spec of imaginary lint off her shoulders. "I'm kind of a big deal where I'm from."

There's a sound of chittering noises from a distance- the pygmies complaining about their loss, probably, but it's so sudden and so frightening that Peridot jumps in surprise and grabs a hold of Tim's leg to hide behind him.

Do not laugh. Do not laugh.

It takes an effort of will to keep a straight face, but Tim manages it. He casts a quick glance in the direction the pygmies had retreated to, then glances down. "Maybe we should make our way toward camp. I'd hate for you to have to humiliate them again."

"Um... Right." She sidesteps away from his leg. "And I don't want to be in this overgrowth any longer than I have to be."

She's a gem. She likes to be able to see the earth under her feet, not covered in leafy plant life.

Tim nods his agreement and turns in the direction of camp. "Same. I'm way more of a city boy. Jungles aren't really my thing. Uh. I think it's this way?"

"Hold on." She holds her fingers up, wiggling them for a moment, as she tries to orient her own magnetic field with the cardinal directions, making herself briefly a living compass. It's a new aspect of her powers she's picked up, but it's very handy for navigating. "Affirmative. Camp is to the northeast, so if we head precisely that direction we'll go right to it."

Edited 2017-02-11 21:23 (UTC)

"Well, let's hope we don't have to make any detours, right?" He gives her a quick grin. "That, by the way, is another very cool thing you can do. I would need an actual compass. And ideally a map as well."

She doesn't know what to do with all this praise. Oh wait, yes she does. Eat it up with a spoon.

"It's another quirk of my metal powers. I can orient myself using magnetic poles, like a compass!" She laughs, a little manically. "I'm basically amazing, I know. Truly an invaluable member of Wonderland's community."

Tim laughs. No lack of confidence there. "I can tell. I feel lucky to have run into you just now."

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[Open] We're gonna have a good time!

shaun

george

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TIM

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