1; you have, for whatever illadvised reason, decided to speak the words and summon the beast. way to go, you've managed to conjure a snappily dressed example of manic geometry. what did you want out of this, anyway? you're going to have to make a deal.
2; the collective unconscious is actually a fairly convenient psychic superhighway. it can be easy to get lost chasing memories or marvelling at neuroses: especially when the damned are dreaming. what's with that one about the carnival games staffed by all your exes?
3; players choice. pick your poison! literally, if you're up for it.
He's a jarring aberration, almost seeming to pop out of the fabric of reality, hovering above the bar. Saturated and glowing, he looks like a tacky neon sign in a dive, which is especially odd because those haven't been invented yet.
"Somebody's feeling awfully nostalgic. This place looks like an old sepia photograph!"
He starts, but that's it. Like a reminder of reality that ever-presses in the memories of a man who's half out of time, and half meant to be right in the middle of it. He even turns, slightly, although his squint, apparent even behind the sunglasses, is obvious.
"Nostalgia is one way to put it, yes," he hedged. Nostalgic by a lot but it didn't seem to surprise him -- it. The thing that glowed brighter than even the brightest of the new, but very weak light fixtures they'd just installed. How odd.
"But you are certainly not a part of that. Curious, then, that you'd show up here. Are you looking for halcyon days too?"
"No thanks, I get enough salt in my diet." He responds instantly, twirling his cane. "I'm just passing through, don't worry. You probably won't even remember this conversation. Seems like you've got plenty of other things on your mind, so to speak."
"Perhaps, but I'm not adverse to remembering it, either," he said simply, and tipped his head. His tophat maybe not a perfect match, but a thematic match. "What's your destination, then?"
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triangleman) wrote2015-01-01 12:00 am
HELLO I'M SORRY TO MEET AGAIN LIKE THIS
He's a jarring aberration, almost seeming to pop out of the fabric of reality, hovering above the bar. Saturated and glowing, he looks like a tacky neon sign in a dive, which is especially odd because those haven't been invented yet.
"Somebody's feeling awfully nostalgic. This place looks like an old sepia photograph!"
I'M NOT
"Nostalgia is one way to put it, yes," he hedged. Nostalgic by a lot but it didn't seem to surprise him -- it. The thing that glowed brighter than even the brightest of the new, but very weak light fixtures they'd just installed. How odd.
"But you are certainly not a part of that. Curious, then, that you'd show up here. Are you looking for halcyon days too?"
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