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nexus_crossings2021-05-26 10:59 pm
ablacksun) wrote in nexus_crossings2021-05-26 10:59 pm
The Post-Apocalyptic Doughnut Thief
Nothing in Antillioch is clean. Or tidy. Or not covered in a thick layer of desert. Which is why the appearance of a pristine white door that may well lead to some spiffed-up futuristic hospital ward is something of a shock to Zack. There follows a brief consultation with his brother, who doesn't seem to want anything to do with it, as it's so ..spotless, and white, and... ewww. For the two hellgods it's completely out of place and worse. They're so attuned to their hell dimension that anything this hygienic sits in the craw like a stuck fishbone.
Abe, casually examining his fingernails, suggests Zack tries the handle, just, you know, to see if it's locked. We don't want anything pleasant coming in. Stupidly, Zack's curiosity wins over and he does actually open the door a crack... Abe swiftly shoves him straight though it, and the Apocalyptic prince is sent sprawling. He literally faceplants into this new, uncomfortably pure environment.
He's ended up on the main plaza, and lifts his head, not liking anything he sees. But that's Zack all over. He doesn't like anything much. He even snarls at the few unfortunate people closest to him.
Nothing about the Nexus feels comfortable to Zack. Not until he smells something drifting across the plaza. He follows the scent until he comes to a doughnut stand.
Zack is the embodiment of the post-apocalyptic hellscape. He's on nodding terms with all four horsemen, and his own essence combines War, Famine, Pestilence and Death.. or more accurately the after-effects of such things. Away from his own dimension, he feels the hunger of famine, and Zack hasn't actually ingested anything for centuries.
Now he's in the realm of the living, these soft little dough things smell amazing.
He grabs one and tears into it, ignoring the stallholders protests about something like paying, or money, or something. When the stallholder tries to physically take his arm, Zack pulls away, swipes another of the sweet dough shapes, and wrenches himself away from the stand. Zack moves through the crowds away from the still-shouting stalholder, almost bumping into everyone - he's not used to crowds.
And he doesn't understand the concept of theft.
He almost sends some poor person tumbling as he tries to make his exit. But he can't find the infernal door and that stupid sweet-dough-thing person is still on his tail. Zack grabs the nearest passerby by the lapel, demanding... “What's his fucking problem? What the fuck's money? What does that even mean?”
[ooc: Cue argument between your muse, Zack, and the doughnut seller. Mun apologises for his language and behaviour. He's not housebroken yet...]
Abe, casually examining his fingernails, suggests Zack tries the handle, just, you know, to see if it's locked. We don't want anything pleasant coming in. Stupidly, Zack's curiosity wins over and he does actually open the door a crack... Abe swiftly shoves him straight though it, and the Apocalyptic prince is sent sprawling. He literally faceplants into this new, uncomfortably pure environment.
He's ended up on the main plaza, and lifts his head, not liking anything he sees. But that's Zack all over. He doesn't like anything much. He even snarls at the few unfortunate people closest to him.
Nothing about the Nexus feels comfortable to Zack. Not until he smells something drifting across the plaza. He follows the scent until he comes to a doughnut stand.
Zack is the embodiment of the post-apocalyptic hellscape. He's on nodding terms with all four horsemen, and his own essence combines War, Famine, Pestilence and Death.. or more accurately the after-effects of such things. Away from his own dimension, he feels the hunger of famine, and Zack hasn't actually ingested anything for centuries.
Now he's in the realm of the living, these soft little dough things smell amazing.
He grabs one and tears into it, ignoring the stallholders protests about something like paying, or money, or something. When the stallholder tries to physically take his arm, Zack pulls away, swipes another of the sweet dough shapes, and wrenches himself away from the stand. Zack moves through the crowds away from the still-shouting stalholder, almost bumping into everyone - he's not used to crowds.
And he doesn't understand the concept of theft.
He almost sends some poor person tumbling as he tries to make his exit. But he can't find the infernal door and that stupid sweet-dough-thing person is still on his tail. Zack grabs the nearest passerby by the lapel, demanding... “What's his fucking problem? What the fuck's money? What does that even mean?”
[ooc: Cue argument between your muse, Zack, and the doughnut seller. Mun apologises for his language and behaviour. He's not housebroken yet...]
no subject
The Klingon growled, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth, those of which he has used before to bite his enemies. Careful Zack, this one bites. Trying to calm himself down, Worf made himself listen to the man's excuse, frowning and hating his bad attitude. The insults only drove the Klingon on to become even more angry. Using a Klingon word against a Klingon and you were not one? A big insult indeed.
"You do not even know what the word means! You insult me and the whole Nexus with your cowardly behaviour. You have no honour!"
Would the man seek a duel? Worf was totally ready to draw blades with this fool if it became more heated. The donut vendor stepping in. A refugee? More like a vagabond who sought to take things for himself. Turning to the vendor, Worf glowered back at the thief but nodded.
"You are a refugee, thief?"
no subject
"Honour's for demons making their bargains. The rest of us just take what we find and fight to keep it." It's clear he hasn't the foggiest idea of how not to irritate a Klingon.
"There's eff-all food where I'm from," he tells them both. "I dunno what I am. Apart from lost.
It's clear the vendor feels rather awkward about the whole thing. "Just... pay me back when you can, okay? I gotta get back to my stand. My 13-year-old kid's watching it for me."
no subject
Worf was already irked by this guy's blatant blase attitude. A thief and a rude one at that. If he was lost and confused then perhaps he should have read his pamphlet. Everyone got one.
"Will you be alright now, sir?"
Addressing the vendor, the Klingon wanted to make sure he would have enough money to pay for his family, especially his young child. This----urchin? He had already caused enough trouble for the vendor and the Klingon so far this day. Turning back to the thief, Worf just gave a irritated stare.
"As for you? What is your name?"
no subject
"Yes. yes, I'll be fine thank you." The vendor seems keen to scuttle away. Zack doesn't blame him for that. He's thinking of doing the same but the ...whoever-he-is, is now staring at him.
"I'm Zack," he tells the irritable stranger. "What's yours?"
no subject
Worf made the last word stronger since he wanted to get across to the thief---to Zack that he was a warrior and had honour. So far this man showed that he was neither of the two. Thieves were cowards and Worf despised them. Yet, the vendor assumed he was some sort of runaway or refugee. Perhaps. It did not excuse his behaviour though.
"Where are you from and why did you feel the need to steal?"
These were questions Worf demanded to know.
no subject
That Worf is from a warrior race though, seems clear to him. And he's intelligent enough to reason that many warrior types do have their own codes of conduct. (Honour is an alien concept to Zack.) Maybe Worf is even some kind of imperial guard, or someone who has authority here. Zack doesn't like being spoken to the way Worf is speaking, but he is used to it. So now he's wavering between being playing the uppity prince of hell, or being more obedient.
He's a long way from home, so he opts for the latter.
"I'm from Antillioch, it's a hell dimension. We don't have the same rules as what you do here. I'm just hungry." Really, terribly, hungry. He surveys Worf, son of Mogh, and rubs the back of his head, confused and trying to work things out. "What's a Klingon then?"