"Melanie Rodriguez, 47, going on 48, and I go by she and her pronouns." Melanie tapped her foot. "Oh! and I come from Earth, 2065. Not that it matters, anyway. I rarely visit then." Mel peeked around at the unfamiliar faces, offering an uneasy smile at the plethora of people.
"I'm Myra, but you can call me anything you want I'll just respond to loud noises," she glanced at each of them feeling uncomfortable, "I'm 17, from Denver, but I live in New York. I'm a human, from Earth, so…" she trailed off and went back to her book.
"Anyone want any food? I know how to make all types of delicious food!" He said, heading to the kitchen.
Coralynn looked around, and finally decided on introducing herself. She looked almost normal save for something you couldn't quite place, and that something would be maddening to figure out. It was like her skin was stolen. "Hello? I heard voices. Is there anyone here who knows where we are?" she asked.
"No," said Myra not looking up, "Pretty much everyone's as confused as you."
(She's an skin thief, isn't she?)
"Hello, whatever your name is! My name's Vozreal. I think we are in a house in the middle of nowhere! Want some food?"
(She's an skin thief, isn't she?)
"Hello, whatever your name is! My name's Vozreal. I think we are in a house in the middle of nowhere! Want some food?"
(No. Ever heard of Frankenstein's monster? She's loosely based on that)
"I am hungry… but I don't trust you, any of you. Why are you being nice to me? Nobody is nice to me, ever. As a rule." she said, glaring suspiciously.
"Thats too bad! I was about to make some tacos!" He said.
(No one can resist tacos)
(No! My weakness!)
(tacos)
language
(You do have a point. No one can resist tacos.)
language
Frances popped up at the mention of tacos. She smiled, but then narrowed her eyes at him. "What type of tacos? Like the type fast food restaurants make or the other type?"
"I have no idea what those are, but they sound evil." Coralynn said, making her way into the room. She sat down in the middle of the floor, her tall frame taking up quite a bit of space.
"Which one do you prefer, Frances? Did I get that right?"
language
"The ones that fast food restaurants don't make. Those are crap. It's pretty much just hard tortillas. I prefer the other one. Y'know the one with cilantro, meat, etc." She laughs at the funny comment. "Tacos ain't evil They're food."
Arwood had no clue what the rest of the group was talking about so turned and smiled reassuringly at the newcomer. “I understand how you feel, you are confused and thrust in a place you do not know, and as for the rest of us we are just as confused as you…so come….make yourself at home, and, if you do not mind my asking, what do you call yourself?”
"Ah, so those! How many of them do you want?" He started prepping.
language
"Four," She said quickly as she sat down on one of the chairs.
He started making four tacos. He had such rhythm, that you could make an lo-fi beat out of it.
"Here you go!" He made them, and they tasted and smelled good.
language
She takes the plate and smiled at him. "Thanks."
"No problem!" He smiled back, getting down some very fancy red wine and pouring himself a glass of it.
group
Azami sat up, awoken by the smell of food. She snatched a taco off of the plate, and jammed it into her mouth. The woman spit it out, shaking her head. "It doesn't taste like Sanji's food," she lamented, laying back down on the floor.
"I don't know who this Sanji is, but I don't think he's here…" Vozreal said to Azami, sipping his wine.
group
"That's the problem! He isn't here, and his food tastes the best!" Azami pouted, crossing her arms. "And neither is Lu! He must be worried! We just finished dinner, and now I'm gone! And he and I already lost Ace, and now he lost me, and-" The woman took a few deep breaths, rooting through her pockets until she found her journal. "Oh, thank god it's still here."
I understand how it feels to lose someone you're close to…"
Myra slid her book back onto the shelf, feeling confused. Was her real life supposed to be more interesting than a book? She leaned forward, not really sure she wanted to listen.
group
Just because i feel like it how about we have my baby girl boxer, 4'6 child and her ferret appear here. "Um what the heck?" she looked around beginning to wonder, her ferret on her shoulder.
He resumed humming, while drinking his bourgeoisie red wine.
Myra shrugged, "Well, lets get out of here." she went through the cabinets until she found a pair of scissors. "Do you think we could stab the drywall or something?"
