Help me get my feet back on the ground... [OPEN]
Characters: Kurayami (paintitgray), OPEN
Date/Time: February 9th, afternoon
Location: The Bazaar
Rating: PG? PG-13 if she gets too frustrated and opens her mouth, I guess.
Summary: The musical chairs event strikes again! Kurayami gets quite literally carried away, and takes a tour of the Bazaar.
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It had been a long afternoon. What with the sunny weather, everybody seemed to be out enjoying themselves in spite of the crazy events striking like lightning all over the Sphere...and once they'd gotten chilly walking around the marketplace in the winter sunshine, a lot of them were ducking into the tea shop to warm up again with a cup of something hot.
Kurayami had been on her feet since she'd started her shift that morning, hurrying between crowded tables. It was enough to make her badly miss the days when the shop had had a larger, more knowledgeable staff - even Boss would have been worth having around on a day like this. (At the very least, the customers probably would have been vacating their tables faster.)
It was, at least, making her perversely grateful that the Tree had spared her so far. It was being even more mercurial and vindictive this month than usual. She'd already served tea to two small children who insisted they were normally old enough to be wandering the Bazaar on their own, a young man covered in itchy-looking boils, an elderly woman who'd had to remove the helmet of her space suit to drink her Darjeeling with lemon, a girl who had purchased an extra basket of cookies to pass out the window to three dewy-eyed unicorns waiting outside (and then sheepishly paid for the devoured basket, as well), and a very irritated man who kept floating off his chair like a human balloon. She'd even brought a thermos of steaming-hot gunpowder green outside to an extremely bedraggled woman who appeared to be stuck under a permanent tiny raincloud. It was all very interesting, and it kept you on your toes, but the stress and annoyance started to become contagious after a while.
So it was with great relief that, at the end of her shift, Kurayami finally collapsed into one of the chairs out front with a mug of tea of her own. And it was understandable, really, that when the chair responded by leaping eagerly into the air like a large dog about to be taken for a walk, and then trotting swiftly out the front door while a joyful little tune blared from somewhere under its cushion, she responded with an exasperated, if not entirely tea-table-appropriate, shout.
"Shit! Shit! Hey!" She clung to the arm of the bouncing, swaying chair with one hand, clutching her mug of tea with the other and struggling not to spill any more of the freshly-brewed Assam on herself, as it bore her triumphantly down the street. "No! Put me down! Stop!"
Date/Time: February 9th, afternoon
Location: The Bazaar
Rating: PG? PG-13 if she gets too frustrated and opens her mouth, I guess.
Summary: The musical chairs event strikes again! Kurayami gets quite literally carried away, and takes a tour of the Bazaar.
------
It had been a long afternoon. What with the sunny weather, everybody seemed to be out enjoying themselves in spite of the crazy events striking like lightning all over the Sphere...and once they'd gotten chilly walking around the marketplace in the winter sunshine, a lot of them were ducking into the tea shop to warm up again with a cup of something hot.
Kurayami had been on her feet since she'd started her shift that morning, hurrying between crowded tables. It was enough to make her badly miss the days when the shop had had a larger, more knowledgeable staff - even Boss would have been worth having around on a day like this. (At the very least, the customers probably would have been vacating their tables faster.)
It was, at least, making her perversely grateful that the Tree had spared her so far. It was being even more mercurial and vindictive this month than usual. She'd already served tea to two small children who insisted they were normally old enough to be wandering the Bazaar on their own, a young man covered in itchy-looking boils, an elderly woman who'd had to remove the helmet of her space suit to drink her Darjeeling with lemon, a girl who had purchased an extra basket of cookies to pass out the window to three dewy-eyed unicorns waiting outside (and then sheepishly paid for the devoured basket, as well), and a very irritated man who kept floating off his chair like a human balloon. She'd even brought a thermos of steaming-hot gunpowder green outside to an extremely bedraggled woman who appeared to be stuck under a permanent tiny raincloud. It was all very interesting, and it kept you on your toes, but the stress and annoyance started to become contagious after a while.
So it was with great relief that, at the end of her shift, Kurayami finally collapsed into one of the chairs out front with a mug of tea of her own. And it was understandable, really, that when the chair responded by leaping eagerly into the air like a large dog about to be taken for a walk, and then trotting swiftly out the front door while a joyful little tune blared from somewhere under its cushion, she responded with an exasperated, if not entirely tea-table-appropriate, shout.
"Shit! Shit! Hey!" She clung to the arm of the bouncing, swaying chair with one hand, clutching her mug of tea with the other and struggling not to spill any more of the freshly-brewed Assam on herself, as it bore her triumphantly down the street. "No! Put me down! Stop!"