arimoi | New World New You

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New World New You

-> (1)

It begins with a bang; then, disorientation, darkness, dismayed voices, and spells that weigh down your limbs like heavy shackles...

The people keeping you captive seem as unsure as you are of what just happened, and argue and mutter amongst themselves, though they don't hesitate to restrain you, chain you to a pipe in the wall of this bottom floor of an underground parking garage, or lock you alone into a smaller room of the abandoned building where the summoning was held. You seem to unnerve them; they don't want to look you in the eye, and if they have to touch you to lock you up, they do so gingerly, nervously.

But maybe, once they leave you to yourself to go and argue and regroup in private, you're not quite alone? You weren't the only person to come out of the array. You have at least one companion in your confusion, one person restrained like you and not wearing the cultists' strange masks. Take comfort, take inventory, and prepare for anything.

-> (2)

The Joyous were prepared for you to attempt escape. Their preparations don't quite match what they got, but even poorly calibrated spells will do something, and the effects of knockout darts and magically reinforced walls don't discriminate. It's time to blow this popsicle stand...

...But you may want to take a moment to comb the area - once the Joyous have had enough time and reason to weigh their options, they'll run, leaving behind the incriminating results of their "botched" summoning. Those less able to escape confinement under their own power may need a hand, or to band together, or, at worst, to wait quite a while for locals to stumble across them...

-> (3)

You step outside into an unfamiliar town; small, sparse, just off a major highway running through the Neloi Flats. A perfect place for a cult looking for an unoccupied building, because there are a lot of those here, as though the town's peak has come and gone, leaving behind rusty signs for roadside attractions and a main street retinue of shops made of sheer stubbornness and spite.

There's not much direction here. There are locals, who will be confused by you, possibly wary and disbelieving. There's a temple, small like the village but likely to have charity you need right now. There's a highway, and following it in either direction will take you to one of two very different cities.

There's a whole country of possibilities before you, in fact. What ones will you chase, and will you do it alone?

[[As of this mingle: go forth and RP! You can treat this post like a game intro, or like a meme post; follow the prompt/s exactly, or alter the details to suit your tastes, or pitch a completely different scene in your own top-level. Let's get some stories started.]]

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Oh, onions. Onions are good. I know Iggy used onions in a lot of his recipes...

[Who do you think you are goddamn foolin', Prompto Argentum, you do not know how to cook. What are you gonna do with the onions, roast them on a spit with everything else?

But, okay. He finishes examining the goods and--well, not bounces, he's not in any shape for his usual bouncing, but gets back up on his feet, rubbing his hands together and cracking his knuckles.]

Okay! Well, onions or no onions, Mr. Flying Monkey, I am gonna start with the fish, 'cause that'll definitely go bad fastest. [From his previous seat at the fire, Prompto retrieves a hand-size, vaguely blade-shaped rock he found and a roughly flat piece of wood to serve as a cutting board.] Man, too bad we don't have pots or pans or anything. Then we'd have more options.

[If he doesn't know how to cook, Prompto does at least know the rudiments of cleaning and prepping all this meat. Thank the Astrals for all of Gladio's camping lessons, whether he and Noct had wanted those or not.]

[For a little while, Broly doesn't say anything at all, he just watches. Maybe this person knew what he was doing, maybe he didn't, but he moved ... as if he were injured. An easy target if he were so inclined.

He wasn't. But it did complicate matters. Someone in pain might not be able to handle all of this efficiently, and apparently all there was to work with were stone tools.

He had a gun but not a knife?]

My name is Broly. I'm a saiyan, not a monkey.

[What was a monkey?

Though that seems that's all he's going to add for a little while yet again, back to silent observation. It's broken only after he watches Prompto do his best with a rock and a chunk of wood, gaze turning back towards the no longer especially close town.

At least, not close on foot.]

Would you do better with pots and pans? And salt.

[His tone's not rising beyond mild anymore, not now that it seems Prompto's given up on eating plants in favor of proper food, but that question, with that mild tone, might have ... bad implications for someone in town..]

Huh? Oh, yeah. Probably.

[Too bad Prompto's really not that great at reading people. RIP in pieces, random smalltown citizen's hopes and dreams of peaceful cooking.]

I mean, I'm not the best cook, but even I can probably do better with real cooking utensils than just turning meat over on a spit all night. And we could at least boil our water before we drink it.

[When did they become a 'we'? Looks like Prompto's adjusted to his odd company after all.]

....Alright.

[That he can do.

'We' might not last all that long, he still expected his father within a few days, but until then the company of someone who wasn't a child couldn't hurt. Maybe it would provide some distraction. That he's scheduled for disappointment when it comes to getting off the planet is not something Broly's even considered.

But at least there would be a decent meal, and he might not have to do anything else besides fetch more things. That seemed like a good deal to him.]

This might take a few minutes.

[...And there he goes again, streaking back towards the very town they'd had issues with so recently. Someone in town is about to have a very bad time of things, but unlike encounters with the vast majority of saiyans, they'll ..actually survive it.

He does return as he said he would, though it takes perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes, with a small number of pots and pans (and a couple knives in the pots) and an assortment of ceramic ducks with holes in the top. Spices!]

Whoa.

[What the heck... Apparently, Prompto's made friends with a wish-granting genie. In the meantime, he's already got the cleaned and gutted fish roasting over the fire. He lets them be for a moment as he inspects the merch.]

Whoa. Broly--Broly, right? Dude, where did you get all this? I didn't think--

[He cuts himself off, then gives Broly a Look.]

...Hey. Can I ask you something?

[The smell of roasting fish is infinitely superior to the scent of BURNT VEGGIE. Maybe Prompto just couldn't hunt well. Or couldn't while injured, at least. Broly settles on the ground on the other side of the new collection of pots and pans cross-legged, looking thoughtful.

He didn't remember how to build snares, so teaching someone else was out of the question. Well, there were ways to manage, and until then he had a few moments to see to the scattering of burrs that had found their way into the fur on his tail.

At least until he's addressed, glancing up from his work at removing one of the damn things.]

Yes?

[Hopefully not something else needed, there was food, there was cookware, what else was required?]

[Prompto has his arms crossed, finger tapping the opposite scrawny bicep.]

Did you take these from someone?

[Why does he suddenly feel like an elementary school teacher?]

No.

[He took it from an entire family.]

... You don't like them? Are they the wrong kinds?

[Something in his tone suggests that even if it was the wrong kinds, he might be a bit sorry about that, but he also really didn't want to go try to find the right ones, whatever that might be.]

[Oh. Hm. Maybe he's being too hard on the massive dude.]

Naw, they should work out just fine. I just wanted to make sure we weren't using other people's stuff. ...Thanks, big guy.

[And apparently he's just not going to question where they came from. You tried, Prompto. You tried. He gets to work selecting the utensils he'll need for all this meat.]

Oh! I didn't introduce myself, did I? My name's Prompto. Sorry. [He gestures vaguely with a skillet.] It's been kind of a weird day.

[It's not other people's stuff now. And probably there could have been a wider selection but he'd been guessing as to what some of it's even for, never mind if it's suitable for meat cooking, but what seemed useful got snagged.

At least he knows what salt and pepper are.]

Okay.

[It saves him another trip, and he's just going to sit here and see what Prompto does with all of it. Somehow he doubted Whole Roast Alien could be done with those sorts of utensils, but getting the right ones would mean ... yet another trip.

No thanks.]

For all of us I think. Hello Prompto. Is this your home planet? What is it called?

Ah, no. No, definitely not. Haha.

[He shakes his head ruefully and apparently decides the next carcass to tackle will be the thing with hooves.]

I'm from a place called Eos, which is. Definitely not here, at least as far as I can tell. Oh, dude, the fish is probably done by now, take them off the fire so they can cool, okay?

[With his new (and/or gently used) knives, he gets to work removing the hide from the poor animal. Eugh. It's yucky work, but someone's gotta do it, he guesses. He keeps chattering to keep his mind off of it.]

What about you? I'm guessing you're not from here, either, if you don't know what it's called.

[It seems for all his size and the whole flying thing, Broly is at least obedient, carefully unwedging the sticks holding the fish in place out of the ground and setting them aside on what looks like a cleaner bit of grass.

Better than dirt, he supposed.]

'Eos'. I don't know that planet, but it's a big galaxy.

[He hadn't known the names of the ones in the last galaxy either. Maybe he should put more effort into knowing a place before it gets destroyed.

Maybe this one wouldn't be. Not a lot of kids so far.]

Nowhere, really. My world got destroyed a long time ago. Before being kidnapped here, my father and I sort of just .. roamed.

[Across entire starsystems, but space travel was convenient like that.]

... Could probably ask some of the town people.. they'd know.

They would, but...

[He pulls the hide off the carcass, making a face as he does so. Eeeewwwww. Gross. Continuing to make faces, he starts dismembering the creature to better fit in the equipment Broly's brought for them.]

Don't you think you'd attract a lot of attention, asking weird questions like that? I mean, it's one thing to be a stranger to a small town, but it's another to act like you're from a whole nother planet, you know? Even if we are.

[Some universes don't have widespread space travel, Broly, my boy.]

[Almost absently, Broly reaches forward and picks up the half-charred bird, pulling its feathers off simply to give his hands something to do. The feathers gotta go ANYWAY or they wouldn't get a nice roast skin.

Besides, Prompto's dealing with the bigger stuff that requires knives.]

In fairness I think I'm going to attract a lot of attention regardless.

[Well that's a pretty good point he's seven and a half feet tall and has a tail.]

Maybe if I was more your size it'd be different, but.. if I'm going to attract attention anyway I might as well get something out of it.

[Like the name of the planet!]

Edited 2017-03-02 23:56 (UTC)

[Prompto looks at Broly and considers this.]

Okay, yeah. That's fair.

[He's just so..........

............................

............................brawly-looking.]

Is that normal for... what'd you say you were? A Sai... Sain?

[Look, he was sort of busy freaking out when Broly said it the first time.]

Your height, I mean.

[And aside from his height, Broly's fairly slim for his race! Maybe it would have been better if he took after his dad, of normal height and build. A handful of feathers is accidentally tossed in the direction of the fire; the resultant stench of burnt feather is horrendous. A strangled cough later, and he very visibly makes sure to be tossing feathers AWAY from the flames.]

Saiyan. ...And no, most are ... ah, your height-ish? I guess. I'm not a normal case. Actually aside from your hair color and lack of a tail you'd almost look like a lot of us. You're paler too.

[Prompto coughs and waves the nasty feather-smoke out of his face, but decides he really has no room to comment on the boo-boo. He is the prince of boo-boos. Prince A-Boo-Boo.]

Oh--gahk, koff--well, that's not really a human thing. [Wait.] I mean it is, plenty of humans look like me, but not all humans is what I meant.

[He sighs.]

Some guys go out in the sun and get tan, but all I ever do is burn and freckle...

[He'd seen the people in the village. Lots of different hair colors but overall roughly saiyan sized and shaped. It was almost recognizable. Was that what it was like before the planet was destroyed? Did his people even live in towns before they had been wiped out?]

Most of my people as far as I know have black hair, or dark brown. Colors like that I don't think exist outside of my other form. It's more like in town, with yellow and red and so on? Nothing sticking up on its own?

['Humans'. Humans from Eos. Who look sort of saiyanish but have many colors and tiny little spots on their skin.]

The spots are nice. Distinctive markings. ..I thought at first your color was because you were hurt. Blood loss maybe.

[But apparently he's supposed to be that color! Spotted and pale. It wasn't a bad look, he supposed. He was pretty pale too, now and again.. but never spotted.]

[Okay. There's a lot to address there, and Prompto blinks at the volume of it all, but first things first. He coughs again and looks a little sheepish and avoidant.]

Oh. Uh, yeah, I mean... I look a little beat up right now, I guess. But I don't think I bled enough it should affect how I look, and it didn't happen today, anyway.

[Probably. He thinks. It's a little fuzzy. He waves a knife curiously.]

But yeah, the people in the town back there are all human. I think. [Maybe he should rethink his assumptions, given all the assorted, y'know, everything.] What do you mean your other form?

[If they look human and act human, probably they are.

Interesting that they're on more than one planet, but don't seem to have any significant space-faring technology now. Maybe they colonized and then cannibalized their ships to make their towns centuries ago!

... No, making assumptions was a bad idea.]

You do. [Look beat up.] If you're not that badly hurt you must have won.

[That's a simplistic sort of logic, but if Prompto had LOST wouldn't he be dead? At least it wasn't blood loss and he's just naturally that color. He wished he could remember his lessons on sunlight and skin tone, but it eluded him.

The bird, mostly free of its feathers now, is set aside in favor of one of the headless bunnies. This SHOULD be done with a knife but he seems to be making pretty decent headway getting the skin off with just his hands.]

Mm. I don't always look this way. I'd show you but it's very dangerous. ..For everyone. I'd rather not without knowing where I am and if anyone could interfere. You don't by any chance know how to put someone to sleep without touching them?

[Prompto just kind of breathes out and mumbles, "Won. Right," under his breath, looking away. Yes. He would definitely describe every element of the train fight from the very beginning to his captivity in Niflheim as winning. He is the winner; it's him.]

Sorry, man. I mean, maybe if I had a tranq gun, but otherwise that's not really my specialty. Crafting spells is way more Noct's and Iggy's thing. I just use what they give me.

[He's a runner, not a fighter. Literally. He's built for sprinting, not Vulcan nerve pinches.]

Is it like... do you turn into some kind of berserk warrior or something?

[Look, he knows how this works. He reads. (...Comic books.)]

Edited 2017-03-04 00:23 (UTC)

[Vulcan nerve pinches were all about knowing where to hit, not raw power. He'd probably be pretty good at it if he tried! Though where he'd ever learn it was a good question, Broly certainly didn't know.

Vulcans might not even exist in his universe.]

Ah. Too bad.

[Why did the cultists .. or groupies or whatever they were, seem to be the only ones with something useful by way of this magic stuff? It wasn't fair.]

... I don't know what that word means.

[What's a berserker?]

It's like when somebody, in a really dangerous situation, or sometimes there's some other trigger for it--anyway, it's like they turn into a totally different person and kind of hulk out and get really good at fighting, but at the cost...

[He pauses dramatically.]

...Of their own mind. [AND he's back to normal.] Basically, they lose it for a while and then usually when they wake up, there's like a hundred bad guys knocked out all around them. Really hardcore.

[The dramatic pause earns a long, long unblinking stare from the saiyan. How much else has actually been processed is a really good question, but first.]

You should consider narrating documentaries.

[Those pauses would be handy when explaining particularly dramatic things!]

Something like that then, I guess, but I don't really lose my mind I just lose interest in things like self control. ..And things don't usually just get knocked out. But so far I haven't really come across anything even remotely annoying enough for that to be a risk, so don't worry too much. Violence alone isn't enough.

[Small crying children and Kakarott was required outside his father's direction, usually, and neither seemed to be about.]

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New World New You

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