Ep. 1 - "Hax" - [Closed]
Jun 20, 2014 11:46:44 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jun 20, 2014 11:46:44 GMT -5
<< For Layby -- can be placed at any point on the timeline for Cat. I'll leave it up to you, Krax. <3 >>
They were out of coffee.
She was out of coffee.
Upon the shelves of her little makeshift kitchen sat no less than three (count ‘em: 3) tins of pre-ground coffee, one pack of The Good Stuff (ridiculously expensive but effective coffee beans meant for special occasions), and a small little box of the instant stuff just for emergencies. All five of which now sat upon the counter with their tops strewn about in front of a very confused Catherine with a very hopeful spoon looking for some sign that a god was real.
Alas.
She was either being punished or damning things with the power of a nonexistent entity, and neither of which would refill the poor little mug that hadn’t seen a wash in… far too long. Suppose, then, that this could also be a sign that she might need to stop and do something other than sit in front of a computer screen. Like sleep.
Unlikely, she knew. Even as she pillowed her head on bags of frozen things and stood in the gust of the cool air from the freezer her head was still pounding from information overload. Were she a mech, her processor would have forced a reboot and left her standing motionless while it went into cool down. …Were she a mech, she’d also have more efficient wiring to deal with this bullshit (surely aches weren’t caused by consuming God only knows how much coffee over 36 hours). Head aches aside, her skin was left crawling far too much to sleep. The said bullshit just so happened to be of the extremely disturbing variety — adjectives that tended to be associated with bot-napping organizations that attempted to dissect mechs.
The sooner these fraggers were dispersed, the better. The sooner she helped dig up some useful information, the better she could sleep.
She sighed as she stared long and hard at her last pint of ice cream, finally reaching her hand to drag the thing out for consolation for her empty mug. It wouldn’t keep her awake (she shouldn’t have been awake for as long as she had), but it’d keep her from flying into a caffeine addicted rage. And it’d calm her enough so she could actually prepare for some kind of a nap — at least, she reasoned, she had dispelled and confirmed some information Cleaver had given her just two days prior. It was enough to give her the strength to withdrawal from the freezer and shut the door and, settling into the dairy induced calm, also add two more things to her grocery list (an expedition that would need to be made very soon) before reaching for the next most important thing.
A quick glance at her phone told her it was morning (early ass-crack of dawn morning), which meant James would be looking for her soon.
But somehow she managed to talk herself into doing just a little bit more digging. Seeing as to how Layby and Cleaver might not even be up yet, she may as well try and solve one more snippet of information. She’d only work until she was finished with her pint, which was perfectly reasonable (right?). Besides, it would be easier for James to find her. ”Jaaaames.” She called as she walked back to her work area, repeating the name until she heard the jingle of his collar and his eager meow. He followed at her heels with intrigued glowing eyes. ”I know, you didn’t even have to slap me this morning, aren’t you proud?” She said to a satisfied meow, setting his bowl beside her work station before spinning back into her seat.
<< Set this up so you can enter however you like. Enjoooy! In Mic. Rooms because idk wherever.also first thread here omg>>
They were out of coffee.
She was out of coffee.
Upon the shelves of her little makeshift kitchen sat no less than three (count ‘em: 3) tins of pre-ground coffee, one pack of The Good Stuff (ridiculously expensive but effective coffee beans meant for special occasions), and a small little box of the instant stuff just for emergencies. All five of which now sat upon the counter with their tops strewn about in front of a very confused Catherine with a very hopeful spoon looking for some sign that a god was real.
Alas.
She was either being punished or damning things with the power of a nonexistent entity, and neither of which would refill the poor little mug that hadn’t seen a wash in… far too long. Suppose, then, that this could also be a sign that she might need to stop and do something other than sit in front of a computer screen. Like sleep.
Unlikely, she knew. Even as she pillowed her head on bags of frozen things and stood in the gust of the cool air from the freezer her head was still pounding from information overload. Were she a mech, her processor would have forced a reboot and left her standing motionless while it went into cool down. …Were she a mech, she’d also have more efficient wiring to deal with this bullshit (surely aches weren’t caused by consuming God only knows how much coffee over 36 hours). Head aches aside, her skin was left crawling far too much to sleep. The said bullshit just so happened to be of the extremely disturbing variety — adjectives that tended to be associated with bot-napping organizations that attempted to dissect mechs.
The sooner these fraggers were dispersed, the better. The sooner she helped dig up some useful information, the better she could sleep.
She sighed as she stared long and hard at her last pint of ice cream, finally reaching her hand to drag the thing out for consolation for her empty mug. It wouldn’t keep her awake (she shouldn’t have been awake for as long as she had), but it’d keep her from flying into a caffeine addicted rage. And it’d calm her enough so she could actually prepare for some kind of a nap — at least, she reasoned, she had dispelled and confirmed some information Cleaver had given her just two days prior. It was enough to give her the strength to withdrawal from the freezer and shut the door and, settling into the dairy induced calm, also add two more things to her grocery list (an expedition that would need to be made very soon) before reaching for the next most important thing.
A quick glance at her phone told her it was morning (early ass-crack of dawn morning), which meant James would be looking for her soon.
But somehow she managed to talk herself into doing just a little bit more digging. Seeing as to how Layby and Cleaver might not even be up yet, she may as well try and solve one more snippet of information. She’d only work until she was finished with her pint, which was perfectly reasonable (right?). Besides, it would be easier for James to find her. ”Jaaaames.” She called as she walked back to her work area, repeating the name until she heard the jingle of his collar and his eager meow. He followed at her heels with intrigued glowing eyes. ”I know, you didn’t even have to slap me this morning, aren’t you proud?” She said to a satisfied meow, setting his bowl beside her work station before spinning back into her seat.
<< Set this up so you can enter however you like. Enjoooy! In Mic. Rooms because idk wherever.