Granted, they were out cold with a... cold (it was stupid, getting a cold just because they weren’t used to the cold), but they watched the official recordings alongside the footage they begged from their phantump. They even wrote notes on each showcase!
Kala glanced down at the aforementioned notes. The cover was worn, curling at the edges, ripped at the spine. ...maybe they shouldn’t have used their usual notebook for this. The fancy event deserved a nicer-looking notebook.
“Let’s see...” Kala mumbled, as they flipped page after page. “I’m voting for... this one was ‘pretty.’ This one was also ‘pretty.’ Oh, and this one too. And there’s this one... what did I write down for it? ....’Pretty.’”
Okay, so maybe they weren’t very good at taking notes.
Slamming their notebook shut and nearly tearing off the covers in the process, Kala began to pace. “This is fine, this is fine,” they told themself, “this is fine. I can still vote. I’ll go with the ones that nearly stopped my heart. That’s the point of the All Hallows’ Faire, right? To be scary? So...”
@dracaelum-faerie because now I can’t swim in the ocean even though I love it.
@imbicilite because that person shouldn’t even be conscious after that!
@grimastor because of cool action, blood, and HE DIED.
“This is my first time here, but--”they waved their hands at the ceiling then spread their arms wide--”that’s a huge chandelier inside a huge house. Those alone make up for a huge event.”
If you would call it an event. To them it felt more like they crashed inside a fairy tale where three fairy tale castles were put together.
Would it be embarrassing to confess they actually never had champagne before so they couldn’t really judge? But--they glanced at the tall glass in hand--this was free and free food was always good, right?
Realizing they took too long to answer, they managed a laugh, fragmented even in between breaths, its volume as steady as a ship in a storm. They took a sip of the drink. “Um. It tastes... expensive.”
Don’t cry, con’t cry, don’t cry, yeah, your nose might start bleeding, but don’t cry.
With two or three (or five) sniffles and repeating the chant in their head, Kala straightened and--great gods above and below, even standing was painful. But it was okay. They weren’t crying. Tearing but not crying. They’d count that as a win.
“I’m--” Hearing their voice crack, Kala cleared their throat and tried again. “I’m fine. It was mostly my fault for not looking. Are you okay?”
Kala turned, laughter heavily laden with nerves already bubbling in their throat. Did the other look mad? They really hope not because Elites look like they could kill you (and they hope they didn’t say that out loud).
But Kala was never one to stay quiet and before they knew it out came another outburst. “You have a clone?!”
They stood behind the stranger, shifting their weight from one foot to the other, their lips fraying from incessant teeth, before they decided that, yes, they could do this. They studied the language. They repeated the question in their head to the point they started to question the existence of words. They couldn’t possibly make a mistake.
Kala tapped the other on the shoulder and spoke in French, “Excuse me. Do you happen to know where I can...” Words trailed and courage seeped from it. They gulped, their stomach twisting. What was it again? “Um. Do you happen to know where I can... buy a lawyer/avocado?”
Buy. Hire. Should be the same, right? They just really need to speak with a lawyer.
ran;; heyyy. …so. i moved blogs. why? i want to start over. …again. i realized while researching there were several things i want to change in this blog. some of the changes are very fundamental to how things are handled in this blog, so i thought it would be better to start over. i’ll reblog this thing for a couple more days before deleting. some of the more bigger changes:
new blog is no longer a sideblog (i intend to make this a “main” rp blog like @tulog)
“shaman” is no longer used as a catch-all term since it’s a controversial term overall. besides, googling up “katalonan” is easy.
kala is 33 in all verses. i initially had kala as 16 in their pokemon verses to focus on how children live in the pokemon world (leaving home at 10? saving the world at 10??) but i figured a thirty-something-year-old in the pokemon world who has no idea what they’re doing while kids do? sucks real bad, right.
the historical verses will be expanded. while i know i haven’t done much of it here, i already felt like i was holding myself back in terms of exploring the more bleak parts of history. so. f-that. kala is going to be more opinionated about a lot of things wrong in the world.
worldbuilding in general is going to change. thank you @ my laziness for not getting to these yet so i don’t have to retcon a lot.
If they think hard enough, they could trick themself into thinking their passenger--oh, gods, when did they prop their muddy tsinelas on the dashboard-slash-extra seat--was not the God of Lost Things in all their apparent glory, if one could call a ketchup-stained shirt, two sizes too big, and cotton shorts as glorious. At least that black mane they tried to pass off as hair looked like what they were supposed to be. The God of Lost Things, Caitlin, crossed their legs at the ankles, dislodging a good chunk of mud onto the recently cleaned dashboard-slash-seat-which-causes-back-problems.
Or maybe they could not think at all. They haven't decided yet which method to try. They weren't given the chance before the higher-ranking god materialized in the sidecar of their tricycle and tossed a one worded reason for their appearance: "Lapu-Lapu."
As if that was a legitimate reason for making them drive to a city an entire day's travel away from Manila. If one was using a car. They don't want to think how long it would take for a tricycle, motorized or not.
And this was ignoring the bodies of water between the cities. Just what was the god thinking--wait. Is that--yes, they pulled a honest-to-gods laptop out of their hair. Caitlin slid further down on the seat and propped the laptop on their knees, the soles of their tsinelas now firmly on the dashboard, fingers already typing away as if they were chilling in an over-priced Starbucks instead of forcing another god to drive for them while they take advantage of how the title “God of Passages” can be interpreted as "Living, Breathing WiFi Hotspot." Kala couldn't stop from speaking at this point. It was like just being around this god made them lose all sense of self-preservation. "Can't you teleport there? You look strong enough."
They, too, were a god, godsdammit, but that sudden sputter in the motor made their mortal form's heart jerk, and their torso followed through, nearly dislodging them over the motorbike. Their grip tightened on the bike's handles. God of Lost Things. God of Lost Wires. Right. It was possible. They veered left and into the middle of a narrow alley. At the end where the road opens again, they could already see Lucena.
If Caitlin was pissed, or if they even did anything to the motorbike like they highly suspected, it didn't show. As always. It made Kala wonder if even the God of Lost Things wasn't immune to the powers of the God of Lost Things. It must suck, it that was the case, though Caitlin didn't seem to mind at all as they continued tapping away at the keybo--is that a tou--the God of Lost Things was competing in a Smash tournament. ...located in New York. Was it even possible to compete remotely, let alone internationally like this? They were on their fifth win streak with Jigglypuff. How can the Kirby knock-off win--again, they weren't allowed to think about anything, not while they were with Caitlin. Apparently.
"Scenic route," said Caitlin.
Kala choked, nearly missing the turn that would let them skip driving through water to reach Masbate. "Sce--this isn't the scenic route!" They shook their head then pointed with their lips at the road ahead of them. Mobo came and went in a blink. They were in Cawayan now and were already well on their way to Bogo. "I can drop you off here. Take the ferry like the humans."
Apparently, their suggestion was too stupid to notice. Or Caitlin was too preoccupied with the blink-and-you-miss-it disappearing act the laptop pulled upon being found by its rightful owner. Nothing flickered behind those dark eyes. Flipping their windswept hair--gods, it's back into its true form of storm clouds--over a shoulder, Caitlin finally took their feet off the pseudo-dashboard to lean forward, hand slipping under the seat.
They knew there was nothing there, but Kala stole looks anyway as they kept their eyes on the road. They might be the God of Passages, but that didn't excuse them from crappy driving etiquette. They had to be a proper role model, unlike a certain god in their vicinity.
Caitlin slipped their other hand under the seat. There was never going to be anything there. Why--
Kala screamed.
Two, not one, (because one was apparently not guaranteed to give Kala a mortal-exclusive heart attack) full-grown, well-groomed, smiling golden retrievers sat crammed in what little space was left in the sidecar. No matter what Caitlin said, that hair was not hair. Their long questionably godly passenger didn't even blink at the stream of sounds Kala tried to pass off as words. That godsdamn hair seized Caitlin's face before they tucked it behind the ears, or what handfuls of hair they could hold onto while the two dogs pounced at their chest, tongues lolling at the side of their mouth to complete the look of "Hey! Hey, let me slobber all over you!" It was a useless act--that dark storm obscured Caitlin's face as the tricycle made another turn.
Kala gave up and focused on kicking this god out of their life. "We're near Lapu-Lapu. Where do you want to get off?"
"Manila."
If the dogs weren't so adorable, now looking at them as if they were the next best thing to exist after commercialized dog treats, Kala would have braked so hard the gods would have to call on Magwayan themself to get their dismembered mortal limbs from the ocean floor.
"Manila?" At least this time their scream came out coherent. Kala brought the tricycle to a halt. Sure, they were at the Sitio Ylaya Chapel, but they were willing to deal with any nearby Catholic anito as long as someone explain this crap to them. "We came from Manila."
"Yes." The two dogs barked, absolutely trilled about Caitlin's answer. They looked at the god as if Caitlin was better than Kala and those godsdamn bone-shaped treats.
Kala changed their mind--the dogs can be shoved back under the seat for all they care.
"Why"--Kala exhaled through their nostrils--"do you want to go back to Manila?"
"Your WiFi."
Kala screamed for the third time in the span of five minutes.
EXTRA:
They were at a loss for words for three reasons. One: they were desensitized to Caitlin's terse way of speaking, if it can even be called that when the last time they replied, it was with a blink of the eyes. Two: they gave up on trying to make sense out of Caitlin's logic of traveling from Manila to Lapu-Lapu and back just so they could use their WiFi. And three: they didn't know enough about foreign countries, but they were very sure Caitlin paid them with bills that were not piso.
Okay, they have a fourth reason: this money surely belongs to a frazzled tourist. It was a lot of money. It was on the level of "entire fund brought along to enjoy a month-long vacation at a tropical country."
"What--" Kala breathed in. Then out. Then they tried again. "I can't use this for gas."
There was that blink again. Kala was starting to suspect Caitlin's slow blinks was their way of saying, "You are so stupid" only this time it was more like, "You are so stupid to think you can't exchange those for piso."
"Someone's looking for this."
Now that blink said, "You are so stupid--of course someone is looking for those."
Kala returned the money without another word. There was nothing else to say.
Caitlin accepted the money and disappeared just as silently.
