OOC

Nov. 11th, 2011 03:36 pm
pterosaur: (🎧You shall walk with me tomorrow.)
ES folks, I'm going to end up using this journal for other games. Just a heads-up. Thanks!
pterosaur: (🎧Trail away your robes of sorrow)
[Above's been in an unhappy mood and doesn't really want to write. But she hasn't seen anyone else mention it, so...]

Go look at the Wilderness.
pterosaur: (Default)
Not that this isn't hilarious most of the time, but [pause] This is the third different miniskirt in four days.

Which is pretty dumb. Not the sort who looks good in a skirt, you know? Anyone spending this much effort getting these things to stick to me should've picked that up.

Love the wig-hat combo, though. But I think it'd be better with a ponytail. If it was closer to my eyes they'd get lashed.

[She's a pirate! ...In an outfit which would be called moderately fanservicy if it was on a human woman of age.]
pterosaur: (Default)
Hey, knight or knights and your crew, whoever you are?

I have to admit, you've done some mean backjumps. Pretty much everywhere people live, you've bombed; I love the dress-ups on the bridges, and that slam in front of the hall of beginnings? Impressive. I guess your tag's the trollface. If I was you and trying to go all-city, I'd try for more throw-ups and a piece or two, a real burner, but hey, I can't handle the cannons. I'm not a writer anymore. [Except that one time in the theater parking lot. And around her nest.]

But now you're slinging my tag around. You're biting my style. That is not on. There's only one garish time traveling psychic anachronism slumming it here, and she's me. Unless there's another, in which case hey, you're awesome, we should hang out.

[She is using graffiti terminology. ...And not being entirely serious, but she is annoyed about seeing her tag a couple times. 'Time traveling' was underlined after a comment from Key. And then she gets ~flashy~. These five letters practically span from one side of the page to the other.]

pterosaur: (💔Fey and sudden and unholy)
You're lying on your side, paralyzed. You feel cottony, unfocused.

There's someone at the exposed trunk of your body. You're not in any kind of position to see it, but you see it anyway. See him. In the way dreams are, you're him at the same time that you're you. You don't see yourself or him clearly at all.

He has what you know is a scalpel. Those don't usually have circular blades that whine like dentist's drills, but this one does.
A very non-medically-accurate dissection dream.. )
pterosaur: (💠Euterpe I tender you vale)
Above's fingers were just too big to touch the crystal through the wires around it. She stared at it in frustration for a time, knowing she should give it to someone who could make use of it. Sell it, maybe.

It wasn't like she wanted to know, anyway. It wouldn't do her any good.

She picked the thing up with the tip of her beak, and paused. ...Why not. She tipped her long head back and opened her beak a fraction at a time, so the crystal in its cage slipped down gradually. Her tongue was stiffer, less flexible and sensitive than a humans', but it was pointed, and eventually she felt that tip go through the gaps in the wires and -

Above couldn't see. Somehow, this didn't provoke the lethargy that usually came over her whenever it was dark.

But that doesn't mean things can't change. )

She was splashed in glittery pink paint, and there were glittery beads around her neck.

< Damn it, > Above muttered at no one, and for a brief, terrifying moment she wished she could wrap her arms around herself. Then she shook her head viciously, and threw herself into flight.
pterosaur: (💔Quickly lost)


[It is a memory crystal! As seen here. ...Pretend that it's less obvious how it's been rejiggered in Paint. And that text in the background? Totally what someone was writing on the other side of the page. ...In perfect double-spaced text. Yes.]

[Above's too macro to activate it accidentally. Her fingers are huge.]
pterosaur: (💮To be living with the living?)
[Open to anyone. This is the drowning-dream.]

You’re flying over a dark, heaving sea on long, golden-purple wings.

The sky is gray. You can’t see the sun or any shore, and it’s getting darker, and you’re tiring. There are no thermals here. The air is unnaturally still, no friendly breezes to help you along. You’re beating your wings in a ragged pattern - once, twice, then a few seconds of gliding before you dip too low and flap again.

Cut for length, not rating. )
pterosaur: (⅋Many people do.)
[This is pretty close to how I imagine Above's writing is like. Messy, thick-marker stuff, but legible. Though she can fit more letters per line.]

[There's a blot on the paper. She wants to thank the people who watched her glass cocoon, but... Anyway.]


So anyone heard of a nothlit before?  And
pterosaur: (💔Quickly lost)
[Looks like Above's picked up an implement more suited to human hands.  Replies, again, will be with [info]dream_of_flesh .]
I have a stalker.


[LOL, thank you Tobu]

What should I name it?  It doesn't talk.  Just follows me around and looks at me like a dope.  It seems scared of some people, though.

And it's been six days and I'm still human.  If this keeps up... I'll need a job.

[ALSO: at some point, the Simon household will find that someone has left a box on the doorstep labeled "For Simon".  Inside there are five or six pierced moon shells on a knotted cord under a foot long.  Above has disguised her handwriting, but it's still in whatever implement she's using while human.  Hope he doesn't think it's creepy~!]
pterosaur: (💔Quickly lost)
[So, late in the morning the following words are reluctantly written though not on a post-it.  The letters are what you'd expect from someone using an ultra-thick marker on a larger-than-normal journal.  It's not quite the same as Above's usual handwriting, but it's markered and in modified all caps, all the same]



I can't fly.

[Replies, when they come, will be from [livejournal.com profile] dream_of_flesh .]
pterosaur: (🌱And what have I left?)
The radio opened with the buzz of insects and a couple sets of mismatched footsteps.  One, clumsily bipedal.  The other, a limping quadruped.  Almost immediately there was the whap and crunch of an insect losing to a beak.

"You're disgusting."  The voice belonged to a girl of about thirteen or fourteen.  It had a sort of odd quality to it, and was overlaying a quieter series of grunts, squawks, and chirping noises, with clicks scattered about.

The next voice was Above's, overlaying more cawing and vaguely avian noises than she made these days.  "At least I don't drag vines around with me for miles and floss with them -"

"Maybe you should!"

The Teens Time Forgot, reunited. )

[Dinoverse, pages 204-206, slightly modified. The language geas may or may not do interesting things to 'Quetzalcoatlus', which is based on a god's name which means 'plumed serpent' or 'precious twin', depending. That telepathy may have (mostly) come through, but her responses still won't.  Because I find it funny.]
pterosaur: (🎧You shall walk with me tomorrow.)
Wait, I have blue eyes?

[Someone saw her pic.  And no, normally they are red, but she doesn't have a mirror and has difficulty seeing reflections in water.]

I think you took the picture from too close.   This should be fun!
pterosaur: (💮Be you forgiving.)
I can't tell where they're coming from, but there are just more and more and they keep coming.  I've seen at least one on every island and a bunch in housing.  I'm not really happy about flying around there.  There are probably more that I can't see, or that I mistook for living people, because it's barely light out.

So we have zombies.  First things first: panic later.  They don't feel pain or tire, but they don't think, and they can't use tools or run.

[Past this, each paragraph comes after a fresh pause of several minutes.]


If you're inside, don't open the door until you know one's not right outside.  Really, don't.  A house probably won't stay safe forever unless you board up the doors and windows real good, but then you might starve...  Well I saw some people with weapons leading little bands to the elevator.

Go for the head!  Don't bother with pressure points or nut shots.  You have to dismember them or destroy the brain.

I don't know if they look like anyone you know, but even if they do, they're going to try to kill you.  Zombies don't remember their lives.  Don't go easy on one because it looks familiar.  And if you're not inside, keep moving!

If you have to go off the edge of an island, then do it, and jump as far as you can.  They can't jump as far.  I'll catch you when I see you.
pterosaur: (💔Fey and sudden and unholy)
I think I like the windy days best.  More than I used to, anyway.  I'm getting better at landing in it, and my coat's grown out a little.  I only really feel the cold when I stop.

I tried landing near this one really old rundown building and ended up way up in the branches.  Some people use signs and padlocks, some people use noisy alarms, and some people set up teleportation, I guess.  It probably works better than locks and alarms.  I'd want that kind of security system too, if I had anything to protect.
pterosaur: (🌱Now I am bereft)
Oh my god this is ridiculous.  A Mr. Showmanship costume?  On me?  Really?  Wow.  I'm impressed.  And a little blinding.  You people might want to be careful about looking up.

...I'd kind of like to keep the boots, but I'm not sure I'd be able to put them on.

Well, anyway.  This is hard to sa I can't  

[pause]
  So I can fit in the elevator.  It's uncomfortable, but I can make it.  Thing is, I can't quite hit the button.  And the people I saw didn't seem terribly willing to squeeze into an elevator full of sequined pterosaur, so...

Anyone feel like hitting it for me?  I'll probably need it on the way back, too.

[
Liberace!  She knows who that is, vaguely.  ...And she doesn't like asking for help.]

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