It’s a Cold Blooded Rendezvous - @sewedshut
Meenah bit her cheek and tapped an idle prong on her space bar as the glow of her husk top reflected a bright white chat box and sweeps of fuchsia and purple colored conversation. She didn’t really talk to Kurloz. They talked—the way you could talk to a mute, religious savant or whatever—but they didn’t talk.
No, really; like, they were friends, sure—but its a lot less to do with any sort of rapport they ever had and more in the way a lot of people tend to be ‘friends’. You know how that goes, right? You have friends, and that friend has a friend, so you’re ‘friends’ with that friend, too. You might’ve shared a couple streaming nights, stalked the same chatroom, maybe even went to the same parties because, you know, your friend friends are there.
But you didn’t do much with each other. It’s an unspoken understanding. The two of ‘em have been respecting that understanding since this farce of a game session started.
But since this game was a farce between darting from corner to corner of the Land of Dew and Oil, Meenah had time to do what she least liked to do when she had no choice but to slow down; ruminate. Not out of any active desire for self-indulgent reflection on the sweeps gone by or to come to some momentous personal realization that would shape the fate of the game. That was the kind of thing you’d see in some sappy movie she’d never watch. Hell, giving a long thought to the ‘couldas’ wasn’t within even miles of her usual M.O. But it was there now, and she’d like to get it out of her head.
Meenah leaned heavily back against the wall of her dark, displaced moon hive. She’d messaged Aranea first. Boo must’ve been asleep, or she’d have answered—she’d never missed a blatant opportunity to talk her fins off yet. Pro’lly got a book on her face and everything. Fucking adorable.
She’d messaged Porrim. Nothin’. No idea what Porrim was up to. Chug column deep in Kankri’s personal drama again, maybe—the guy was a magnet for it. So much for being ‘done doing that’, huh, Merrygams?
She’d tried Rufioh. No dice—he gave her a hasty excuse and fluttered off. It’d been like that, lately. She supposed that was more time for him to get cozy with Horuss. Good for you, man. You get you some angry hoofbeast dude.
That lack of dice was the trend until she’d hit this guy on her list. Sure, she had it on good authority (that authority being past conversation) that trying to squeeze anything out of this grub sauce cylinder wasn’t gonna get her much that wasn’t creepy platitudes, balmy bullshit or religious drivel, but if nothing else, Kurloz had some kind of grip on the kind of crappy, duty-related shit rolling ‘round in her head. It was a start. A sound board.
Her prongs rattled away on the keyboard and out popped her messages:
CC: yo kurz you up
CC: and not busy or whatevz lame-ass reason you got
