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One Knitted Sweater
A. Phone. Early Morning. Unfiltered.
[It's not that Rose is an early bird. She's a rather regular bird, if the metaphor lends itself for such uses, but she wasn't supposed to be sleeping. Dave was supposed to be sleeping and waking up later, as per the effect she expected to cause after that yarn ball throw. Still, she was the one waking up in a place that was most definitely not Derse, unless they had suddenly populated the place with a completely outdated series of identical suburban houses.]
I seem to find myself in quite the predicament. On one hand, I have the imperative necessity to return to my duties, as they played a rather critical role yet to be defined. In the other hand, though, I am called by the Great Outdoors, as this new locale pleads to be explored.
But before I devote myself to that enterprise I would like to ask for further instructions regarding the nature of this place.
[For the record, Rose sounds as if someone had done something of the magnitude of using all the sugar in the kitchen, not displacing her through time and space. She's really playing it cool here.]
B. Streets of Mayfield, Afternoon.
[And so Rose traverses the streets, sometimes silent, sometimes barely humming a tune, but always keeping an eye on everything. She doesn't even bother with the drones, leave alone the adult ones, but rather focus on those that have a certain shine in their eyes the canon fodder lacks. To them she gives more examination time, although she won't really engage in a conversation by her own initiative. Not until she has managed to get the upper hand in this place. Or in its default, to have lost her patience, whatever happens first.
But yeah she's wandering around, go bother her.]
C. Mayfield High. Fashionably Late.
[Like the coolest teenager, Rose arrives late to school...and goes directly to the yard, where she sits somewhere calm and with shade. The day has been too exciting -or rather, mildly exciting- to enter the classrooms; she'll have time to do that later. But it's a good time to have a chat with her fellow classmates, perhaps?]
[It's not that Rose is an early bird. She's a rather regular bird, if the metaphor lends itself for such uses, but she wasn't supposed to be sleeping. Dave was supposed to be sleeping and waking up later, as per the effect she expected to cause after that yarn ball throw. Still, she was the one waking up in a place that was most definitely not Derse, unless they had suddenly populated the place with a completely outdated series of identical suburban houses.]
I seem to find myself in quite the predicament. On one hand, I have the imperative necessity to return to my duties, as they played a rather critical role yet to be defined. In the other hand, though, I am called by the Great Outdoors, as this new locale pleads to be explored.
But before I devote myself to that enterprise I would like to ask for further instructions regarding the nature of this place.
[For the record, Rose sounds as if someone had done something of the magnitude of using all the sugar in the kitchen, not displacing her through time and space. She's really playing it cool here.]
B. Streets of Mayfield, Afternoon.
[And so Rose traverses the streets, sometimes silent, sometimes barely humming a tune, but always keeping an eye on everything. She doesn't even bother with the drones, leave alone the adult ones, but rather focus on those that have a certain shine in their eyes the canon fodder lacks. To them she gives more examination time, although she won't really engage in a conversation by her own initiative. Not until she has managed to get the upper hand in this place. Or in its default, to have lost her patience, whatever happens first.
But yeah she's wandering around, go bother her.]
C. Mayfield High. Fashionably Late.
[Like the coolest teenager, Rose arrives late to school...and goes directly to the yard, where she sits somewhere calm and with shade. The day has been too exciting -or rather, mildly exciting- to enter the classrooms; she'll have time to do that later. But it's a good time to have a chat with her fellow classmates, perhaps?]
c
along with this bizarre greeting, she does not say 'hi' or even 'I'm upside-down!'.
she says:]
Lavender!
[as if this is supposed to make sense to Rose.
Terezi is, by the way, in her troll body again.]
no subject
Her world just turned red and someone said "Lavender!" right to her face. Makes perfect sense.
Eyes a little wide, Rose inches back from Terezi, and that's when she see recognizes the traits described to her. The skin. The Horns. The...eyes?]
If you are to troll somebody, you should at least have the decency of remembering their names.
[...no, not really.]
no subject
[she swings herself forward again, trying to grasp at the girl's shoulders. upside down. you can imagine how well this is going.]
Hehehe. Are you uncomfortable... Rose Lalonde~? [she says her name in a lilting, sing-song tone.]
no subject
[The moment Terezi tries to graps her shoulders, Rose attempts to get a hold of the troll as well, although she moves too much.]
Not really. You are as annoying as you usually are over the net.
[Seeing a moment of quietness, Rose tries to hold her from her wrists, not to pull her down, but to make her stay still.]
Now, which one were you again?
no subject
Terezi Pyrope! GallowsCalibrator. I am sure you are glad to hear it, huh? Hiiiiii, Rose.