| .......... |
.......... C A S T |
.............................. Zeta |
.............................. Cecille |
Flashback: This scene takes place a few years prior to present day.
♫ MOOD MUSIC ♪
AJ 25-Apr-21 07:28 PM
[Drugs. FOR SCIENCE.]
AJ 25-Apr-21 08:43 PM
Cecille didn't know what to do except wait. Waiting for Aldo--Zeta was routine. They would rarely venture far into Purple on their own. Where would they even test this? In the street? A secluded park or warehouse? Zeta's? Cecille had never been one to partake in drugs, so suffice to say they were a bit of a lightweight, and they knew it. They trusted Zeta, but they didn't have the experience to trust their own self control or mindset. They could do something foolish, run into a street! Get found by one of the Factions. They paced and rubbed their lip with a serious expression, trying to plot out how to mitigate this.
The trade off was that they manifested a vibe, which would give them a leg to stand on, even if they didn't really have any plans to fully integrate into the island's bizarre hierarchy. ...Unless the vibe only persisted while on Fonk.
Eventually they couldn't take the agitation without having something for their hands to do, so they approached a Vendy to tinker on.
Rigby 25-Apr-21 09:24 PM
He wanted this. But he wanted it for Cecille, more.
It had been years of... this, at this point. The pair had survived the tower, missed the sweep of the Rebellion, and Cec had been all he'd had. But the deliberate threat of death over their traitorous interests had eventually ceded, and given way to the slow, torturous death of denial.
Zeta had lucky; he'd been a musician before, too. It had been easier to slip into the Mafia before things started to go askew. And keep going, collapsing and splaying into this island's particular brand of lunacy over the years. Cec wasn't so lucky, and it was infuriatingly, depressingly unfair. And so Aldo Moreno-Lopez's mission remained: he would help find them a vibe.
Perhaps unhelpfully, and perhaps he was yet-unaware, he was already glowing faintly purple, himself, as he made his way to their particular Vendy - a change his usual electric lime - though whether this was easing into a high or coming out of one may have been more difficult to discern from his usual energy. Yet.
He'd felt absolutely ridiculous - this kind of back-alley stuff was for kids and criminals - and wasn't it just funny? And thrilling. If it was a freak accident of vibrations, of waves and chemicals that had soured and changed minds and bodies, a drug could at least attempt to mimic some of it, right?
"Ceeeeec~" He'd draped over the vendy only after they were elbows-deep within in, and waggled a little bag before it disappeared back into his coat again with all the mischief of a sharper. "Not sure where you were thinking, but we're stocked up for the day."
AJ 25-Apr-21 09:55 PM
Who knew taking a job on an island full of musically inclined individuals could be so oppressive. So loud it was physically suffocating at times, a trigger they'd denied they had until it drowned out all of their senses and left them frozen and staring and completely dissociated.
The discordant clink thud tap tap tap of tools was much more comforting. Until it stopped with the whack of their head ("Oh—") against the inside of the machine as they startled back to reality. They crawled out rubbing a spot on their skull and frowning. They had been entirely expecting him, but had still ended up engrossed in their tinkering. Grabbing onto the edge of the machine, they climbed to their feet.
"You're here. I—oh. ...I am unsure." They leaned against the opposite side of the same Vendy, turning to squint across the street. "If I am about to get stoned--" they paused, looked at him, their voice dropping. "Is that the right term? 'Stoned'?" High? Fonked up? Which meant which. "...Well I would rather it be somewhere soft. ...Are you glowing purple? You are normally green."
Rigby 26-Apr-21 10:27 AM
"The kids call it 'fonked up.'" There was WAY too much mischief and enthusiasm and eyebrow-waggling in that sneaky little delivery, conspiratorial, all at once managing to sound as Old As Possible while also simultaneously sharing it as if they were the only two in the street that had such a stash. And utterly sidestepping the increasingly obvious tells that he'd probably partaken earlier, too.
He did roll off the Vendy, eventually, to straighten up nearby and offer them an arm. "I am feeling good about this." He'd said that about every 'experiment' - before and after everything went to shit - but these days, it had a way of treading the line between optimism and desperation.
"Well, not the middle of the street, then." It was a little funny. "Your place or mine."
They did point out he was Unusually Glowy, and he did venture a look at himself. Oh. Well. A bob of his head and a faintly appraising flick of his eyebrows was a faintly-perceptible 'huh!'
"Maybe a little bit." He tried shrugging it off with a roll of his shoulders, but he would escort them gamely to either safe and soft place.
"Just don't pop me in a dark room or anything. You might be glowing, too! Not sure if this is reacting with a vibe or just lighting up like a candle."
AJ 26-Apr-21 04:41 PM
Cecille scrutinized him, at first likely not getting the sly euphemism, and then probably judging him for it, and then snorting with a realization and a shake of their head, culminating in a hand to their face before those arms crossed. Nope, they denied any laughter, especially born of nervous energy.
"You're fonked up." It was an accusation, because it was slowly becoming plain as day, even if it came off more as a childish comeback than a statement of face.
They stepped away from the machine as he did, arms still crossed but uncrossing when he offered his arm. Their's hovered a moment, but settled into his elbow as if it were the most natural thing. Just in time to quip back at 'feeling good'. "Well, I can certainly tell." Snark was an easy way to breeze past the crushing disappointment of all of their previous experiments.
They'd headed in the direction of their own little place (temporary--they all were) at his Ask. "Why not? My flat could use a nightlight. Hardly any natural lighting at all." The Square's tenor had dipped into that flat, amused tone used for Ribbing. Twists and turns brought them down a few streets and then into a back alley, and they let go of his arm to push a pile of cardboard out of the way of a back entrance, and then up into the hovel that had once served as a flat above a long-abandoned restaurant.
"My humble abode." The furniture had long been scavenged by others, so they were more or less squating with a cushion and a blanket. They'd see how long this one lasted.
Rigby 26-Apr-21 05:46 PM
"Heh. I'm not sure I'm an acceptable substitute for natural lighting. Even on a good day!"
They'd only earned that smirk once their hand went up - even if it was only for a moment! Perhaps considerately, he didn't even call attention to it with an I-saw-that point, this time. "It'll be prophetic, one of these days. That fonk's just a little extra luck." There was something a little melancholy about that, too.
They'd called him out correctly; he had gently pregamed. Aldo was a musical guy even on the most sober of days, but there was some strong restraint evident as they'd wound through the streets, and it was a downright miracle that the purple man hadn't scooped the square up into a spin the whole trip over. As it was, he stunningly was content with humming and occasionally chatting.
Eventually, the pair made their way into Ceci's latest of their many living spaces. It wasn't enough to get him to come down from his purple buzz, but he'd long attempted to stop feeling surprised, to little avail. He'd sighed, he'd nearly spoken up several times, even getting as far as a "Cec, you don't...are you sure you can't..." But any move he'd make would be charity and danger in equal measure.
He sat crosslegged next to the blanket. "Here, Cec. Pull up a pillow."
That bag reappeared; inside were several small pills ("Easier to measure") and he'd passed or tossed it to them so they could afford themself a good look at the contents.
AJ 26-Apr-21 06:05 PM
Not that Cecille would have been able to fight him off if he had picked them up--just a floundering Square caught in a Spin. It would probably happen eventually, if it hadn't happened before.
Cecille tried to make light of their living situation, as there was only so many times they could endure Zeta's pity. It would be a little more stable if the doctor wasn't so damned paranoid. Most Squares didn't care about them—they were a quiet neighbour—but there was always that impending feeling that they were on the verge of being sold out. If anyone older than forty saw them. Somehow.
So they shrugged it off, and went to collect some extra blankets and cushions (mottled but serviceable) from the linen closet, returning to set themself up beside Zeta. Settling down cross-legged, they leaned in to squint at the baggy, reaching out to take it. "So this is the fate of the pharmacists and doctors still alive on this damned island." It was said with a quiet, distasteful sneer, dismayed but expecting nothing different. Opening it, they shook out a few into the palm of their hand to inspect.
"...Ah... How many? These do not exactly come with a recommended daily dose." It made sense that they would be packaged in single-doses for ease of use, so despite their question, they immediately stuck one under their tongue. And scrunched their nose, even if the taste was nothing different than most chalky pills.
Rigby 26-Apr-21 06:44 PM
"How many do you think there are, left?" It was a little bit of a ghoulish thought, and perhaps the fonk alleviated how dire it might've sounded in his own mind, somewhat, as he watched them point it out. "Information lost to the Vendies...and us. Eventually. Could be just like us, lying low," ...or integrating more than he'd ever willfully admit, "trying to figure out this Vibe thing." A bob of his head, subdued. "Just wish they'd find us if they were."
"Start with one. The more you take, the stronger the hit. I'm running on one, right now. It hits pretty quickly. " Then added, with a little grin, reaching for the bag once they partook, examining them, himself. Added, looking back up at them with a flick of his eyebrows and a roll of his shoulders. "I can sing something." There weren't any books to toss nearby, were there?
AJ 26-Apr-21 07:08 PM
"I know some of them have clinics set up in the Research District. I don't think I could make an accurate estimate... I don't believe anyone from the hospital survived. Or—what is it now?" The Fever Club in the Purple District had once been Step City's premier hospital, but now it housed dancefloors and jukeboxes. The doctors who could claim they weren't directly apart of the StepProject could at least integrate.
"I wish that too. But I think any sizable group would just draw attention..." They held the tablet under their tongue as they mused, watching him take back the bag and fully expecting him to go for Round Two. "How quick is 'quick'?" Sat cross-legged and straight-backed, the Square looked like they were patiently waiting for their train rather than for the effects of a drug to hit. They started tapping a finger impatiently, their droopy eyes already noticeably dilated.
There was an ambient Glow in the air, but it was hard to tell if it was them--maybe just Zeta's glow reflecting off of them. They pulled a face. "Why--oh, right. I suppose that is the whole point." They gestured dismissively, 'very well, you may proceed'. And—as if reading his mind—"I haven't any books." That got a little smirk out of their own joke, followed by a 'hm' and another pursed-lipped look. They ran their index finger along their bottom lip. "I certainly feel comfortable."
Rigby 26-Apr-21 08:06 PM
"I may proceed!" It started as one of his barely-restrained snorts...and trailed into a giggle. "So I'm home, free!" He did manage just to keep it subdued, mostly in hums, popping into the occasional bursts into...probably the Beatles or the Stones. Predictably so.
His own tone did shift somewhat as it did appear that they were becoming...somewhat affected; he might've been seeing his own sparks in shades of green and purple, but the trip swung immediately to Cec's well-being.
"'Comfortable' is good! Space it out, don't try to pound them back all at once, or else you'll be feeling it hard in the morning." He popped another pill, allowed it to rest and settle under his own tongue, tried to squint ultra-seriously anyway as was his norm, appraising and curious. "Stopping with that one. I can do two before it starts sticking with me."
He did snort at the book thing! "Let it settle a little." A beat. "You're making purple work for you. Feeling...don't kill me. Fonky?"
AJ 26-Apr-21 08:55 PM
Cecille jokingly patted the ground around them, searching for the fabled Book to throw at that cheek. That Smirk had reappeared, but this time it tugged a little more until some teeth showed, a proper grin however brief before they closed their mouth and hummed again.
Zeta's Performance (subdued, thank goodness) still got their full attention, hoping something might happen. That agitated tapping fell into rhythm, the doctor closing their eyes and humming—not music, just that tuneless sound they tended to repeat ad nauseum when they were over-thinking problems. Or at least that's where it started, catching snippets of songs Zeta might have repeated enough in the past that they recognized them, and to those he got a few hums following along.
"Oh, I don't plan to. Perhaps a second, if I fail to feel anything." They were underestimating the effects as it was, and opened an eye with a little 'oh'. They'd long since given up taking notes for their experiments, so this was a lot of Loose Science. "I should have prepared with a... Boom. Box. I don't suppose dancing would assist in this." Even just their phone—not that they had any music stored on there beyond the default.
They shot him a sharp look at Fonky, the corner of their nose curled, and they snorted. Hard. That seemed to surprise them, and they promptly doubled over in giggles. (edited)
Rigby 27-Apr-21 05:36 PM
Cec giggling...and then actually owning it was enough to set him off in his own sparking and Fonk-riddled state - and he couldn't even mask it with that bare restraint of a snort he usually had, it escaped into a free flood of giggles. All lights - whether wired or disconnected - flickered gleefully before being reined in rather sharply, startled.
"...sorry." He bit his lip, still smiling, only looking somewhat sorry (at least it wasn't loud)...and tried very, very hard to regain composure (increasingly poorly), and squinting at Cec all the while.
"A boom box! Cec, we've at least marched along a little bit." Don't lie, Zeta; you own a tape deck. He pulled out his own phone and waggled it. "Can't hurt to try!" It was almost, almost a wink, absolutely a smile, another maddening bop-shrug of his head.
He pulled his legs back up under himself, singing and humming, on occasion making up words where he would've otherwise forgotten them, he flipped through phone, on occasion shooting questioning glances Cecille's way whenever he briefly came to rest on song after song. (He would bop along to each...but it was also Zeta, and not a reaction necessarily limited to whatever drugs he'd ingested at any given time!) He'd eventually come to rest on one on which they'd hummed along, then set the phone down (likely atop a blanket so nobody wiped out on it, at least!).
Then rose. "It's all normal. a vibe, it's just...you. As 'you' as anything else, like laughing except - well." And then a snort, one transformed into a cough, his plays at being profound went out the window with a shrug. "...bit more destructive than laughing. Maybe you'll luck out!"
"Doctor Gadhavi, shall we have a dance?"
AJ 27-Apr-21 07:10 PM
Cecille rocked back and forth a few times until they were sure they could stifle them to a manageable murmur, sitting up with a hand over their mouth, only to realize Zeta had joined in, and all of the lights took on a life of their own. That put a few new cracks in their composure and their shoulders shook with silent laughter. It was a terrible feedback loop, and they gasped a shuddering breath because one of them had to regain some composure or they'd both lose it. That lip-bite felt like a taunt anyhow.
"Well...! I don't know what kids use these days. I thought 'vintage' was 'in'." They added physical airquotes to that last one. During their complete loss of composure, that purple glow had taken hold, just gentle whisps and a colour to their eyes. They hadn't noticed it yet, quietly working their jaw and sideeyeing that phone. They leaned forward while he perused, one eyebrow quirked, and offering appraising little 'hm's or 'hm-mm's. Maybes and nos, and not-quites, although they again couldn't help finding the beat with a rogue finger tapping against the dusty floor and an uncharacteristically rhythmic sway of their shoulders.
>
They did feel good. The apartment looked good. Zeta was looking good. The music was feeling good. The song he settled on got a head-tilt to listen, a roll of their shoulders and a comfortable sway of affirmation. Yes, that would do. "I imagine this is some cosmic karma for not spending my time on what I deemed 'frivolous pursuits'."
That smirk returned; maybe he'd hit their ego. It had been so long since they'd heard 'doctor'. Since they'd heard their surname. Cecille took his hand and hauled themself to their feet, unsteady, but not unbalanced from the fonk, more in an awkward instinct to move with the music. Of course the jamdeaf couldn't dance, but for once there was a lazy, easygoing want there. They still gripped his hand and that hum returned, cleared their throat, hummed again, and looked down at their feet with a leisurely sway, sidestep, and shuffle that they didn't know they'd had in them. Apparently they were starting without him. They couldn't really help it.
Rigby 30-Apr-21 06:04 PM
"Oh, pf, you hit your teens and twenties and anything over thirty is vintage! Just depends on...how-vintage. The real winner's those records - y'find one of those, that's it, you've won."
There was no telling what these hypothetical hipsters would've won, though - as Ceci's attempt at composure ultimately doomed him, sending him into a proper giggling fit that properly derailed anything he might've been trying to say.
His own reclamation was very tenuous; he was here to help guide and observe, after all, so he re-focused on them.
No tap went unnoticed, each one was magnified into a joyous bolt - they were keeping the beat! - and he'd joined in, his own vibe seeking subtle outlets. With little else to go so far, he still seemingly appeared to wired into the lights despite his best efforts; they would flicker with mirth, brighten and dim with curiosity. Every edge in proximity - of books, of any furniture or windowsills, was laced with halos; the effect was subtle and mildly illusive, a pale imitation of what he was no doubt seeing - but Zeta was a generator and fixing to burst.
"See? Y'got it! Embrace that frivolity! Tea, for the soul. Or something like that."
He clasped their hand, hauled them up. He was Suitably Glowy now, but to his credit - a glowy Zeta was fairly typical and incredibly agreeable. Simply - More Zeta. A glowy Zeta was also significantly worse at keeping those giggles in, those sparks from his eyes, or those smiles hidden.
He did pull them close, though this seemed to be equal parts fonk and a motion to guide them into a dance, if they'd allowed - even if the song was a bit of a silly choice for a two-person routine! He'd ultimately decided to talk his way through it like he'd animatedly talk his way through a particularly maddening or interesting problem or project.
Only this time, the talk was distant and struggling to remain Professional in the midst of all of these waves - and they were waves now, nearly visual, more felt than scene - of Goodness, and the animation was dancing; he moved to lead them, only carefully bopping at first, seeing if he could.
"Gonna let y'in on a little secret." The grin meant he wasn't going to do any such thing. Or that what he was about to drop wasn't a secret. "Anything's dancing. No...bronze-age Joe popped into being' doin' the Charleston or whatever, but y'can bet they still danced. It's just..a feeling. The Vibe's that feeling, too. Styles, rhythms, that's taking those feelings and pointing them where you want to go. That's what the vibe wants, what it looks for." He did cough a bit at that suddenly, cutting it off, still slightly present enough to be self aware. That certainly didn't sound like an objective or rational description of it, at all.
But then again, who had come up with one; who could? There were only two - and both might've been further gone down their respective madness than either would likely willingly admit.
"This one's easy. Just count to four. That's it! No wrong way when y'do that. Good place to start. Try following my feet if you're ready."
AJ 30-Apr-21 09:46 PM
"How is anyone supposed to find any if you are hoarding them all?" Don't deny it, Zeta. The man's laughter was wearing down their own composure, and it was getting awfully hard to keep anything together. Another giggle threatened to escape, and they shoved it down with a forced inhale, sitting back and catching sight of the dimming lights, the occasional spark, the visual... They couldn't place it. "I am certainly embracing something." The drugs, Ceci. Even as their shoulders swayed to the music, they studied the faint auras and emotional charge of the lights. "Is that you? Or is that me?" They didn't think it was their vibe, but more than likely a hallucination brought up by the fonk. That finger kept tapping to the rhythm with a little hum and a "it's very pretty either way." It finally had to give up when he helped them to their feet, and they lost the surface to tap on.
Lowered inhibitions and an all-around Good Feeling kept them from overthinking embarrassing themself dancing, and they didn't seem to take any issue with Zeta pulling them in, resting their free hand on his shoulder. He was doing a terrible job of hiding his grin, and it very nearly set them off again, Cecille feeling elated and high; their lips twitched continuously to keep from mirroring the look. His face was right there, and glowing at them.
"Oh?" The Square's gaze drifted down so they could watch his feet (even if it was very straightforward shuffling). They were keeping surprising rhythm in their shoulders for someone so completely boggled and put out of sorts by music when sober. They quieted that persistent hum enough to look up and listen, and Zeta had a rapt, attentive stare, the gentle half-smile that followed a little quieter and fluid. "That does not sound particularly scientific, Aldo." Their chide was soft and warm, only for Zeta, but damnit if it didn't still have a little of that typical Condescending Ceci.
>
They leaned their face against his shoulder so they could touch the fingers of the hand that rested there against their lips. It was a habit they couldn't shake, and likely to obscure that half-smile. "If I spontaneously develop a vibe," they paused in tapping that finger to their lip, to rock it from their face to his, tapping it against Zeta's jaw chastisingly. "I will certainly pick a more interesting Greek letter." Their voice hushed to muse: "Perhaps 'Sigma'. ...Or 'Omega'."
They ducked down again to watch his feet, forehead bumping against his chest. They listened, but he still got his feet trodden on with a little 'oh' and a muttered apology, that hand on his shoulder tapping out a one-two-three-four until, a few tries in, they found a steady pace. Immediately they picked up humming along to the song again. (edited)
Rigby 01-May-21 03:33 PM
He really, truly wanted to say the glow was them.
It had been years, of one thing after another, of survival and attempts.
The halos were his, but they easily wove and curled as fluid and sound along waves of violet, the colors merging and and enveloping the room in an aurora of emotion, of hope and closeness laughter. He wasn't quite sure how much of the display - or of how Cecille was glowing, too - was in his head, but Cec had spoken up, indicating that they'd at least seen something. And that something was pretty! He had a vague sixth sense of where the electrical phenomena actually were, a hum that tickled faintly at the edges of his brain, and he still had the presence of mind to keep them at bay, purely for show.
Instead of answering their question, he opted to sneak in a cheeky little "Who's glowy, now?" - and returned that finger-tap.
If they slipped from the beat, he'd guide them back into it - but truthfully they weren't doing so badly, themself, and a few 'yeah! Keep it going, just like that's and approving hums (that inevitably trailed into humming along with each tune, briefly) would spark from him in kind.
"Well!" That pff of an eye and shoulder-roll was a little unwieldy while he led them, adjusted as the song changed, watched their steps. "Maybe not scientific! Poetry, maybe? Could be poetic. I'll save the peer review and the professional language for when I'm not lit up like a Christmas tree, *Cecille."
And another snort! "Heeeeeeeeey, There's room for spontaneity. If not here, clearly we'll have to hit you with a flare again. 'Sides, what's wrong with 'Zeta'! I sorted all my projects with those letters. Sounds fun on stage, right? I hope?" Maybe that was exactly what was wrong with 'Zeta.' That smile had never truly left, but it seemed to creep back into his tone and spark in a squint of mischief once more with all of the subtle conspiracy of a kid skipping class. "We'd sound like a pair of super-villains. Or Timelords. Maybe both."
There could be no vibe.
There probably was no vibe.
There was nothing there they could dance into being.
But those thoughts, even as they slipped insidiously through his mind as traitorous little threads among the vast waves of color and feeling, were distant, their threats abstract this time, smothered in Fonk and Cec and hope.
"Don't overthink it, just feel it." They found the beat, and he rested his head on their bobbed head, lips on their hair, before looking around them to their feet, and back up at eye-level once more (or as eye-level as his height would allow!)
"Yeah. We'll keep this song, you've really got this one down." Generous, but also not inaccurate! "How're you feeling?" (edited)
AJ 01-May-21 09:55 PM
Cecille wasn't used to fonk at all, and their attention towards their actual goal came in waves. They raised their hand, bringing Zeta's with it, and distractedly inspected the lazy halo of colours. "...Oh! Am I?" They could see it. "Perhaps reacting to ambient vibe, or... Hm." They brought both hands closer, looking at their's, and then taking Zeta's and turning it over to study. It was probably the work of the fonk that they still managed to keep rhythm with a comfortable sway even as they idly Scienced, brushing his knuckle with their thumb and a little 'hm'. Holding his hand and letting him return to guiding them. "The glow is much more ethereal than I thought." They'd speculated some weird body-chemistry explanation, but they were unsure now.
Somehow Zeta had made sass and shoulder-heavy eye-rolls a part of his dance routine, and Ceci swayed along with it. They laughed. "Oh. Well, poetry I would expect from you. Do you mean to say you cannot eloquently spin a peer-reviewed work into a song? ...While 'lit up like a Christmas tree', Aldo?" Those heavily dilated eyes turned half-lidded with an absolutely wicked grin, all teeth and challenge.
They snorted, settling their head back in its momentary spot against his shoulder. "Oh, I will have to see more of your shows to know. It is absolutely you." A hush, their voice didn't quite match the pitch and tone of the music they were following. "Zet-aaaa."
>
"We absolutely would be a pair of supervillians. What are 'Timelords'?" They'd fallen into comfortable grooving, actual purpose in their moves, even if they weren't of a quality any faction would really accept. So that left Zeta to worry about the outcome of their experiment, because Cecille was certainly—at least for half a second—having a grand old time. The lightweight.
"Oh, I can't help that. I enjoy overthinking and puzzling, and sometimes that leads you nowhere, but sometimes you end up down little rabbit holes." And normally that was true, but other than the occasional look to check their footwork, they weren't overthinking the movements—just enjoying the flow, following Zeta's cues, and peeping quietly at his affection.
"This song isn't so bad. I enjoy it." Maybe they'd feel different when sober, or maybe Zeta had found an 'in' to slide them a couple more songs. "Comfortable. Hm..." They gazed up at him sleepily, likely Cataloguing Feelings like a computer. He was going to get a Detailed Breakdown. "Good. Like I have too much unused energy. Like I have to keep my feet moving." And they were grooving, even while talking. "Elated, but mellow. Everything is very colourful. I am sure this flat never looked this nice before. Should we try a second one?" Or would that flatten the lightweight. "I am sure I will feel this in the morning. But I feel very good now."
Rigby 02-May-21 09:24 PM
At first Zeta's expression pulled into a pokerface, then a rather poor, pantomime attempt at looking wounded at the accusation of poetry. It wouldn't have lasted long even if he were sober; that smirk and burst of a laugh only returned quicker than ever. "Careful with that, y'might actually get a paper on your desk come morning. You'll have to recite it in rhyme. Get a little grooooooove going~" He might actually remember this challenge come morning.
"What do you thing supervillains would look like in a world like this? Heh...I'll show you Timelords, later. Takes a lot of explaining..." Their head would rest on his shoulder and he would on occasion rest his chin, his lips on them once more. Zeta was already on two doses and focusing on the outcome was a goal increasingly shrouded in light and liquid energy. They were here, contact was clear and present, awash in the violet joy of Ceci, dancing. He may have almost forgotten the hunt for the vibe for a few moments.
"I'll remember that song." Would he, though? He did make a show of peeking over to his phone as if he didn't already know his song collection by heart.
They continued to sway together, and he moved to listen to their assessment, perhaps only semi-conscious that he had done so in such a way that had ensured the pair was dancing forehead-to-forehead. Small hums of acknowledgement to each of their points might've also been hums along to the music.
"Use that energy, find that dance, find that feeling down one of those rabbit holes."
They did express interest in another; and the eye-roll was a little more muted this time. "Y'sure? I think I'll lose you with two!"
AJ 03-May-21 07:12 PM
The laugh was contagious; after they returned it, they leaned in with all the smarm and pomp of someone who clearly thought they'd won. "I regret to inform you I haven't got a desk." Checkmate.
"In a world like this? Probably white lab coats." They missed theirs. "Oh. This is something science fiction, isn't it?" They aggressively eyebrowed, but couldn't look convincing, devolving into 'hm-hm-hms' again. Settled comfortably under his chin, the sleepy laugh faded into a slow breath and a deep, relaxed exhale. They could feel Zeta resting his face in their hair, and almost made a quip about the static. It was comfortable and warm.
Maybe it was the drugs talking, but they nonchalantly accepted the forehead pressed against theirs, that half-smirk and droopy but steady gaze at him heartily engaged in science a few inches away. Zeta of course still had to put up with the Square's menacing Nose in his face. "I thought it would be more dizzying—more hallucinations, or something altogether unpleasant. I am enjoying this. Music feels much more vibrant. I always found the sounds repetitive and grating. It disturbed my concentration. Although the music that was sudden or—or discordant? It made you think. That was bearable. I find your steps easy to follow." Minus some squished toes.
They lapsed into silence from there, closing their eyes to doze a moment, leaving their forehead propped up against his. They could still count the steps, one two three four. Eventually they cleared their throat with a deep hum and opened a hazel eye. "You are probably right.
"I haven't manifested any vibe, have I." Their quiet tenor was laced with disappointment, but they didn't dwell on it, closing their eye again and falling back into humming along with the music. They were coming down from their high, they were sure. (edited)
Rigby 03-May-21 10:05 PM
A snort. "You win this time, Doctor!" Of course that was met with the appropriate eyebrow flick. "I'll spare you the musical review...for now."
"White lab coats...maybe we should fluff our hair out a bit more." He should talk - those curls would remain untamed if he ever grew them out for too long - a feat Cec would've likely seen in earlier days of skulking and Vendybar-scavenging. His words might've been a bit more playful, but they were relaxing into Cec, instead, and leaving him as more of a hum. "Every good science fiction flick has at least one nutter in the labcoat, folks here are lucky they'll have two..."
When they followed with their description of the Fonk's effects, he remained nose-to-nose - Menacing Nose, or no! - and he'd hummed in appreciation. Even if there were no Vibe to unearth among the streams, splashes and shimmers of purple, this was a happy Cecille. And at least for now, that was good, that was correct.
"When on fonk, for me, music feels...how it does when I play, when it is...waves and color and light." It made sense now, but so did many strange things - and two doses in he'd fallen right off the scientific cliff and threatened to teeter into synaesthetic comparisons. I don't blame any of the Mafia when they retreat to this." It would've been a darker observation any other day.
And then, they spoke of discord and repetition. "I'll remember that, too." It was bereft of any teasing, that time. He'd had plenty of music that fit that description. Perhaps after his own fonk-funk wore off, he would continue to remember.
"Whatever you want, Cec. You will be safe, it's just me, and I'm not about to take off on you, now."
"I haven't manifested any vibe, have I." (edited)
The waves of light and sound ceded...even if only for a moment. "You feeling anything like one?" They both knew the answer, despite his still-light tone.
"We'll space it out. Stagger it. Give you another in a few." Much as the ends of things like this went, he always had to tack on something, even if it was a halfhearted idea, a snatch at a bigger plan or theory, or just plain persistence. Without keycards, and just shy of another solar event, they could only try so many things.
He pulled Cecille close and hummed along with them.
"We'll try again, Cec."
And again. And again. (edited)
AJ 04-May-21 07:23 PM
Reactively, Cecille tugged a hand free and reached up to fluff Zeta's hair, picking at a curl with a smirk. "I don't think you need it." Two steps safe from Unruly. They answered his suggestion by snorting at his expense. "Now if we could get back into Step Tower, then we would have our not-so-secret lair. ...And my tools." Their voice trailed at that last part, as if considering it a little too seriously.
The doctor wrinkled their nose in amusement as they talked, eyes on Zeta's or occasionally upwards, as they tried to suss out the best way to describe the sensations. He was emphatically listening, and it made them pause a moment, although he'd certainly listened every other time they'd lost themself down a tanget. It was a combination of the fog that had partially settled over their brain, and the ocean of colours and warmth that came in gentle waves.
Cecille's gaze settled back to meet his when he described his side, voice dipping in a comfortable, guttural hum. "It is a shame 'My Sort' are not the most welcome at Mafia Shows. I should like to attend. 'Waves of colour and light'... I can see it. Perhaps. Some of it?" Another comfortable sound, sleepy, their High trailing. They squinted at the air around them, made a vague gesture as if to follow the halo of light with their finger. They couldn't help it. Every discussion had to be animated by hand-movements.
And then it settled into that sobering reality again.
>
"No. Nothing like one. I am enjoying this sensation, but I doubt a second will bring out anything the first hasn't already." They settled back down into his embrace, one hand behind his shoulder and the other tucked in close; their feet were growing a bit sluggish in their attempts to keep up with the rhythm, but a finger dutifully remained tapping. "You are ever the optimist, Aldo." Cecille's chide was warm, but simultaneously rueful. Somewhat muffled from where they had tucked themself.
"I am a bit drowsy. But yes, I can understand it. Why someone might chase this. I wouldn't mind another. ...Perhaps not right now. I am sure a second would only exacerbate the 'crash'. It is probably best to put this to rest for now."
They paused and fumbled. "I liked this."
Rigby 05-May-21 06:49 PM
"That...would be a job for Don Moreno." It was equal parts joke and pipe dream, delivered in a tone that matched their own. Even if Zeta did manage to climb the ranks (or pull something a little more underhanded)...there was still an entire territory and faction to account for, leaderless and lawless.
Sleepy observations were met with content little hums, glowy-eyes following their hand movements as if he could see the light that they could. Maybe he could. Too much fonk and he'd sworn he could read others' thoughts before, or knew what they could see..
They spoke of 'their sort' next, and that did provoke an involuntary little squeeze - though there were no Mafia or Banditos from which to shield them. "Come, anyway. Wear purple. Find some trim, classy outfits that are You. No evil-science lab-coats." It was deadpan and slipped in without missing a beat. "It's not like they card you for your vibe before you show up ...I would like to see you." That was the beat, missed; it had almost seemed blurted out, had it not been swept up in the sheer Zeta of how he'd continued.
"Could get you iiiiiin~ to one of the shooooows..." It was a flowery and conspiratorial singsong of a hum. "Not everyone on a show's a musician. There are places to use the skills you already have, there are technicians that...aren't me. Roadies." Granted, 'the Road' in Mafia territory wasn't too big of a road - still, it was travel and a setup to haul from venue to venue, and there were quite a bit of venues.
"The first comedown's rough, too. I'm not goin' anywhere, I'll ride it out with you. We can sit."
He'd paused when they did, wrapped an arm properly around them, and would mean to guide them to a seat should they not tap their way out of it.
"...I did, too."
AJ 06-May-21 10:02 PM
Zeta already had one of the requirements of Don down—being stupidly tall. They snorted, and although the Sad Reality of the situation was stark in the back of their mind, they were still drifting pleasantly downwards and unable to focus on it.
Cecille looked at him fondly, unsure what to make of that honesty. They scoffed, and it would have had a lot more oomph behind it if they weren't coasting on fumes. "Half of your Mafia have an atrocious fashion-sense. If I could get a hold of one of your vibe tailors..." They trailed back into sincerity themself, quietly clearing their throat. There's came with several beats in between, processing things carefully. "I would like to see you too." They started to wrinkle their nose at his singsong tone, trying to stifle a smirk, then—"a roadie." They could do better than that! It was a blow to their ego although it was the most logical position to take if they didn't want to get noticed.
They mock-stewed on that as they turned their head to look towards the floor for their cushions. Bit down on their thoughts and had their mind stutter on them. "Mm." A mediocre answer to a lump of feelings they hadn't expected, and didn't know how to process. The hum still came out unexpectedly fond.
They waved a hand beneath them to catch themself as they moved to sit, but let Zeta do the guiding. The tapping faded into a groggy twitch, and then a sleepy, half-hearted murmur. "Well I expected this." Zeta would have to contend with an unsociable lump ducked against his arm, sinking down enough to splay their legs out under them in an unhelpful tangle.
They wiggled a hand free, using it to massage the forehead and the bridge of their nose. "The noise is a little grating," they said flatly. Realizing that sounded a bit harsh, the Square clarified—"not--but that may just be the ringing in my ears." They'd closed their eyes to the dull lights. This hum was a little more disgruntled.
Rigby 07-May-21 06:45 PM
"Oh don't I know it. They wish they had all of my suits." They were fabled and rare, but these suits did exist. Some were even purple. Even if he still insisted on wearing that aging green suede with the pockets, anyway. It was wide-open for a return jab - being notoriously green in the family at least made him easy to pick out - but he didn't mind, this time, on account of 'color-vibe coordination, y'know?'
"Roadie." It was still a singsong hum. "It's no Vendytech...but it's something to do. Gives you a break from the Banditos too."
But soon Cec was taken by the come-down, and Zeta's own head had faded to a pleasant hum of softer color. Perhaps politely, he'd only flicked both eyebrows, barely tilted his head at their hum - but he'd only guess as to how to interpret it beyond its note.
Zeta guided Cecille to their seat; they'd started to sink and flail and slump. And Zeta, for all of his ludicrously Don-levels of height, did manage to maneuver the tangle and himself in such a way that they were both sitting relatively upright - the purple haze all in his brain cheekily nudging the motions in small ways that didn't entirely resemble a little free-form and improvisational little dance of its own.
He was still coasting on two doses, still slipped into humming (what sounded suspiciously like Purple Haze) on occasion, but was present enough to recognize they weren't, and ventured wrapping an arm around them (or over them, depending on how far they sank), a big, dutiful and obnoxiously tall pillow.
Now it was his turn to hum, wordless, in response to their remarks about the noise. He'd reached over, only just able to reach his phone and turn it down without spilling them both.
Decided to poke juuuuuuust a bit, but it was without the usual punchiness the pair were capable of slinging; if he wasn't aware exactly how Ceci's senses were re-processing this whole thing in the come-down, he could at least make a good guess. "Y'know, you were liking that one earlier. Really felt the beat of it, too."
AJ 07-May-21 11:21 PM
Despite the scratchy haze descending on them, they laughed, a scoff and a hum and some genuine Tooth. "You have far too many, you can spare a donation." Too big in the shoulders, it would be a boxy, oversized mess. But there should be no doubt they could make it work. It was Fashion. Worn as a cape, off the shoulders probably, with a jumpsuit or nice buttonup. He got two return jabs, one verbal and the other in the form of an actual poke and tug on the worn velvet, a little 'hm' of ambiguous judgement. They failed to let go.
"I suppose." Roadie... It would get them away from the Banditos, and that was enough to get them considering it. "I will think on it. Perhaps. ...Your wires are always a mess anyhow." They'd probably blend in fairly well—some washed up nobody.
They were a useless bundle of limbs when they wanted to be, so they let Zeta do the manhandling and slumped comfortably down to a level that would hopefully help with the mild tilt and spin the world was doing. Most inconvenient. They went down with the most graceful little flail at Zeta's impromptu dance; his arm got there just in time to keep them from sinking down too far, and they settled down in that hold, their head against his collar.
They muttered, half-mouthed, a quiet thank you at the catch, and then again when he adjusted the music. Things were a bit visually loud, static ringing in their ears, and a faintly off-putting vertigo. Their voice settled into a raspy vocal fry, groggy. "I... was. It was pleasant." They mulled over their words a moment. "I enjoyed dancing. ...With you, anyhow—certainly not with anyone else--" the thought of a crowded, spinning room and loud music. No thank you. "...Thank you." A third one.
Cecille trailed with a hum and fell silent, probably dealing with a burgeoning headache. They knew if they drifted off, they'd feel worse when they woke up next. They fiddled with the lapel of the jacket they'd tucked up against and did anyways.
Rigby 08-May-21 01:57 PM
He didn't deny his messy wires - and his snort of a subdued laugh may as well have been confirmation. "At least I didn't blow up my desk. Or the tower." Maybe like...one Vendy. Partially. Probably early-on, an 'improvement' attempt gone wrong. "Or...recent gigs."
Come the morning, there would be plenty of water, and more than a hefty side of the stranger home-grown hangover 'cures' borne of this unusual society that the both of them would've likely laughed at, before; cures that at this point would have been tried-and-true for the Mafia man.
But for now, Zeta stayed put, holding Ceci steady and close as they clasped at his coat, resting his head on theirs, lips-to-hair and cheek-to-hair, content to drift.
"I enjoyed it, too. We should, again. Just us."
It wasn't the fonk that kept him here, at all.
AJ 09-May-21 08:32 PM
"'Recent' gigs?" Oh yes, they'd caught that. Maybe once they were in a better state of mind they'd ask for the story, but for now it got another muffled giggle.
They inhaled and exhaled the smell of his coat, finding it particularly relaxing. Feeling Zeta's breath rustling their hair, they reached up to rub his chin idly, curling their fingers near his neck and leaving them to rest there. They almost ruined the moment by making a comment about Zeta being their Fonk Dealer, but lost it in the sleepy haze. Instead they hummed something like 'just us' as they drifted off.
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