[EVENT] The Simulation Ends

[sixthiteration]

WHERE: 6I Fountain Park & Elsewhere
WHEN: April 1
OPEN TO: ALL - Mingle
WARNINGS: N/A

---

In the snug circle of an old park, a fountain sits burbling beneath a broad, midday sky.

Once-neat paving stones have buckled and cracked from the slow nudge of wayward roots. Benches stand covered in lichen and rust. Three paths push into the underbrush like the spokes on a wheel, the encroaching forest creating lush tunnels through the dark.

But the fountain stands singular and pristine, brightly splashing in open rebellion of the deep, muffled sounds of a place long ago gone to seed. A vibration hums through the ground, there and quickly gone, and the water in the fountain trembles, lapping against the high walls of its cool, pale reservoir.

Far, far away, in a place that isn't really there, people begin to blink out of existance.

It is the first of April.

It is precisely ten o'clock in the morning.



[Please see event details and guidelines here.]

Comments

[warriorborn]

He frowns for a moment, thrown both by her easy acceptance of his new appearance and by what she says, before he realizes that yes, his face feels odd. Raising a hand to touch his chin, his frown deepens. He's grown used to having a beard in his time on the Surface, but it never felt as long and unkempt as this.

"Oh."

Kate squeezes him tight as she hugs him again, and Benedict lets himself relax into her hold, carefully pressing his unkempt cheek to the top of her head.

"Yes, alright." Home. "I need dry clothes, anyway. I'm getting you all wet."

[lastofthekellys]

His appearance is, Kate thinks, not going to go away any time soon. He'd told her. He'd told her, and she'd tried to imagine, but it's so different. So... so strange. Somewhere in her, she's aware that she'll have to come to terms with how he actually looks, and goodness gracious but she'll have to learn to kiss him all over again.

Yet, not now. Not when they've just been tumbled from one strange world to a strange mirror of it. Not when he's soaked to the bone. Not when he's so, so bloody wary of her turning away from him. That she cannot stand. Everything else, she'll deal with.

"Our stuff's still there," she murmurs. "Dunno how or why, but it is. Miss Hoppity's all spittin' mad, though."

[warriorborn]

"Oh," he says again, this time with more feeling, and he lifts his chin from hers to seek out the Inn, the building exactly where it should be despite the fact that nothing around them is the same. "Miss Hoppity. She's here too?"

Obviously, or Kate wouldn't have mentioned her. But Benedict will gladly focus on the little feline he's developed such an easy bond with, their friendship soft and comfortable after all this time.

More often than not, he wakes up in the morning with a small furry ball on his chest, purring in counter-point to the rumbling he himself produces. He's fairly certain Kate finds it all incredibly amusing, but he thinks it's sweet, and strangely comforting, so he has never tried to dissuade her from claiming him as her bed.

"Let's go, then, if only to soothe our girl."

[lastofthekellys]

"She is. She woke up as covered in dust as everything else, an' I think she's been missin' her schedule." Kate's mouser is a pretty cat, and as vain and set in her ways as most of them tend to be despite her hunter's status. Before here, this strange place, Kate had never really considered cats companions. Useful animals as mousers if you had a barn, yes, but for companionship, there were always the dogs. But Miss Hoppity is a clever thing, and has wormed her way into Kate's affections.

"There's also some strange crates in the main room," Kate adds as they walk towards the Inn. Firmly, she's laced her fingers with his, and walks close to him. "I haven't looked at them all proper yet, but one of them's all full of supplies of some kind."

[warriorborn]

Benedict has never quite managed to articulate the fact that cats are...well, Cats. A society unto themselves, and not just in the way that people seem to anthropomorphize animals in this place. A real, honest-to-goodness society with culture and rules and strict codes of conduct that must be properly adhered to.

He can only speak a few words of Cat — Bridget would be far more useful in that arena, and Rowl too — but either he is pronouncing things incorrectly, or Miss Hoppity does not speak the dialect he knows, since they have not truly been able to communicate.

It had been surprising, at first, but he has grown very fond of the little beast in their time together. He has a feeling Rowl would be horrified if he ever saw the spectacle they two made together.

"I'll deal with them after I have changed," he declares, then runs a hand through his hair and turns to look hopefully at her. "And maybe after you help me with my hair?" It's far too long in this state for him to deal with. It will need to be cut, and his beard too.