Who: Kurloz and Mr. D
When: When the curse started
Where: Wherever they end up meeting
Kurloz has been in Vatheon long enough that waking up to a strange ceiling on a Monday morning isn't a cause for panic, though it is a cause for irritation, particularly when he discovers that the reason the ceiling is different is because it's a house that isn't his, up on the island. There's also the small matter of the body not being his, either.
It's fortunate enough that he recognizes the face on this body, otherwise he would be feeling a lot more wrathful. This humanoid body, with its lack of horns, with it's strange little quirks and lack of stitches, is an inconvenience, but there are secrets in his own body, secrets that must be kept. With Mr. D he has a better chance of making sure they're kept.
Still, he'd better hurry. He barely hesitates to pull on one of the strangely-patterned shirts, and begrudgingly accepts that he won't be able to paint his face, before sending a quick message to his own SFC. Hopefully Mr. D will heed the warning in it and stay put, but Kurloz doesn't bother to wait for an affirmative response, he just starts off toward the elevator.
There is one benefit to this body. It's very good at scowling. The locals aren't trying to stop him at all.
Anyone mid-day, Saber only for the evening.What:
Idle mingling and arrival.Where:
Plaza in the afternoon, the Ordo Neighborhood in the evening.When:
July 10th. Style:
Prose preferred, but will match. Status:
It had been two weeks or so since his arrival. Without a Master to fuel his consuming abilities, the Heroic Spirit would find need to lay low and approach the city in a more tactful manner. The problem was, browsing the network and collecting information without wine left Gilgamesh listless after a week, but irritable after the second. He decided to finally go shopping one morning.
Blending in was simple enough with the curse
of his A+ Charisma. None questioned the one wearing a black tracksuit in the middle district as he would purchase enough wine to drown the local drunk. The kind smile that strangely fit any scenario made it easy to keep a low profile and learn about the realm he was summoned to this time.. Hrmph. In time, I could grow to enjoy this.. simpler kind of life.
The cart he had managed to borrow from a shopkeep would creak under the weight of the product. Only a few eyebrows would be raised by the locals. When he was satisfied with his haul, he would then hold a single bottle in his hand and begin wandering about the market looking for wine glasses.
Truth be told, the apartment he moved into had been occupied previously and.. a few things did not suit his tastes. Most of his time after his arrival was spent redecorating the house to be something of a more.. kingly.. taste. Far too much pink was involved, and tea.. tea
of all things was neatly organized in the wine cellar. What mongrel would do such a thing? Picking up one of the thinner glasses he found, he'd run his finger along the rim as the soft vibration released was like music to his ear..
The plaza would be his choice of leisure for mid-day. An open bottle of wine in one hand with a decorated glass in the other would now make for an easier and more approachable demigod. Gilgamesh began to indulge in his desire to watch people interact among themselves. Pouring himself a glass of wine, his watchful gaze would linger from the coral to the people around him. ( That evening, intended for Saber. )
Who: Pyunma and anyone
Where: The island.
When: The afternoon of the 8th
Pyunma had meant to come up to examine the island ever since he'd learned of it. First, however, his attention had been focused on learning his way around Vatheon itself, the streets and the buildings and the natives. Then, in the midst of that, the curse had begun, which was a whole new level of distraction. Although it had left him just chilly, rather than frozen, the times when he had gone out hadn't led to much progress on learning about the city that was apparently his new home for as long as his captors deemed fit.
But today, with the curse ended and the city explored to his satisfaction, Pyunma had come up to the island with the intent of scouting it out in the best way he was able. In other words, the moment he got to the beach, he made his way straight to the water, and continued in until he was submerged. When he opened his eyes, the salt water didn't sting them. Then he opened his mouth to let the air rush out and the water rush in, and with a kick, pushed himself out deeper, to where the waves wouldn't tug at him.
Swimming the waters around the city and tracing the barrier took longer than he had expected, due to a close encounter with the territorial Mosasaur. The struggle that resulted had left him more concerned with the more concerned with the potential threats in the water behind him than anyone who might have been on the beach, which meant he didn't pay attention to the way his lack of shirt exposed the silvery scaled covering on his arms and chest as he made his way back to the beach.
Who: Mr. D (grumpy wine god) and anyone who wants to pester him
When: daytime, current day.
Where: the Plaza but possibly anywhere else in the city, too.
Style: action brackets or prose. Whichever.
Status: Ongoing and open
The longer he was here, and he obviously hadn't been here long, the more Dionysus was convinced that this was his own little pocket of Tartarus. He couldn't remember off-hand how he could possibly have pissed off the Big Three enough to deserve this. Not recently anyway. And never all of them in conjunction. Even drunken gods have a sense of self-preservation.
And yet here he was. Alone. Separated from his wife, his wine, his son(s)... even his overbearing father. He was still somehow in charge of looking after ungrateful half-bloods, and this time there was no Pac-Man to distract him. Even a normal deck of cards eluded him. If this wasn't the eternal torment of the most grievous of sinner, Mr D didn't know what was. Give him a rock to push up a hill any day.
So the displaced wine god did whatever a normal person did in times of great strife... he sought religion. Or whatever passed for religion in this place. He'd heard talk of Lamufao, and it was really only proper for Dionysus to present himself.
(...He hoped Lamufao wouldn't think he was being inconsiderate for visiting while dressed in dark purple sweatpants, purple running shoes, and a leopard-print shirt. And for getting a little lost along the way.)
((ooc: Feel free to approach him in any stage of his "going to see Lamufao" excursion. Open to all!))
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- Station Master( All was golden in the sky... )
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