Everybody wants to rule the world

[maskormods]

WHO: YOU.
WHERE: Downtown Cape Canaveral
WHEN: Wednesday January 15th, around 5 PM EST
WHAT: Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome.
WARNINGS: None anticipated; let us know if this should be edited.

Cape Canaveral. It's no longer the heat of the day and in January the temperatures will be livable; not too hot and not too cold, either. A pleasant change from the City, perhaps. The sun is on its way to setting but the last light of the day still fills the sky, bursting the city into color. The air smells like ocean.

The locals are friendly and smile and wave, looking on at you in awe. They'll approach if you ask for help, or a question, but they don't want to interfere, either; if you want to be left alone you probably will be. American flags can be seen in many windows and restaurants are rolling out their dinner menus. There's no parade, no big banners, but many storefronts have handmade signs and posters that read:

Welcome, imPorts! We love you!

The woman at the Porter told you what to expect: You know what your tattoo means, you've been given your file, and you know in a few hours they're going to be here to answer more of your questions and see if you'll stand with them or if you'll go off on your own. "It's your decision," one of them had said, but you were already told what you get if you agree and what you don't if you don't. After that's done, she told you, you'll be driven to your new homes.

In the meantime, enjoy the area, or try to. It may not be what you're used to, but after the apocalypse even Florida might seem like an improvement.

Comments

[amoray]

Eridan jumps when Jenny plants herself on his table, although he'll deny it all the way to the next apocalypse (whenever that is), expression instantly going from sour to sourer. Which is pretty impressive, considering he was already mid-pout. That brief surprise fading, he leans in to circle his arms over his plate protectively. He already doesn't want to eat; the last thing he needs is a mouthful of ashy shellfish, or the fallout of tossing it at the next person who thinks asking about his fins is at all okay.

"Are you tryin' to break my table?" he sneers, his slightly crooked glasses (thanks, nasty fall on his flawless face during the Atropos event) sliding further down his slightly crooked nose (thanks, being frequently punched in the face).

That's it, that's the comeback.

[centurybaby]

She pointedly arches an eyebrow at the way he quickly moves to defend his partially eaten crustacean from her, vaguely amused by the display. The mildly entertained look on her face doesn't go away when he responds to her either. A more self-conscious girl might have taken the jab personally, but Jenny just lets him have that, watching him like she's enjoying an inside joke as she sits there on his table, casual as you please in her dirty prison uniform and Karkat's clashing sweater-- as if it's the most normal, natural thing.

Another exhale of gray smoke escapes her as she leans over to flick his glasses back up on his nose, finally answering in that dry voice of hers, "So you are sulking. What, not happy you survived the fucking apocalypse or something, Ampora?"

[amoray]

"Piss off," is his rebuttal, recoiling away from the flick with a halfhearted snarl and a swat of his hand. He could take out his latent aggression here, it's a perfect excuse (and the perfect victim), and it isn't like he hasn't had plenty of bad blood with Jenny to draw from - but, even if he won't necessarily admit it, he's tired. Physically, emotionally. It tempers his temper some.

"Does a cholerbear shit on the dismembers corpses of its wictims? 'Course I'm glad I made it through, though it ain't exactly surprisin'." He draws his other hand from his plate, nudging his glasses back into place. They're still crooked. "Maybe I just ain't thrilled about gettin' dumped in some patriotic backwater corner a paradox space without warnin'. Figured you coulda puzzled that one out yourself, Quantum."

[centurybaby]

She pauses to put her cigarette out on the table a few inches from his fine lobster dish, eying him with an arch of her eyebrow that's somewhere between skeptical and amused. Eridan Ampora is nothing if not entertaining.

"How the fuck am I supposed to know? You always have your mermaid panties in a twist over something," she responds a bit pointedly, idly kicking her legs a little bit as she continues to rudely sit atop the table. "Maybe you should shut up, enjoy being alive, and eat your fucking shellfish, Ampora."