realityshifted | (no subject)

[A scrawny Isaiah strolls casually into existence on the plane, a huge Taco Bell cup in one hand from which he is sipping pensively and a bag in the other hand to match. He’s nicely dressed, fashionable, and he’s wearing a rasta hat. He’s so put together, it looks a little ridiculous, but he also manages to pull it off somehow.

A split second after he appears on the plane, he stops dead in his tracks. He stops sipping. His eyes, though they look wide already, get wider. He makes a weird noise in his throat, his posture slips. Then the guy is retching, his food dropped, his drink rolling and sloshing out, and he’s on his knees, retching something fierce on to the starry ground, shaking, white, and finally he just throws up.

The act seems to pull him together a little. He continues shaking, but he wipes his mouth with the back of a hand, staring around. He stands unsteadily, looking around and looking frightened out of his wits.]

Fuck.

[Even though he’s obviously distressed, his voice is still personable, and he smiles weakly, looking around as if trying to find something to talk to before he settles on looking up.]

Uhh, so. Nice... Nice weather today. Rainy.

[His expression cracks a little; softly]

Shit.

[normal volume]

Hey, man this is, it’s nothing personal, right. But I get it. [he raises his hands in a "don’t worry" way.] I completely get it. You’re a scary fu—you’re real impressive. Really. I’m just wondering, you know, maybe, maybe if I talk, I can get out of here.

[Another weak smile, a hopeful expression.]
Please?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Astral what? Am I outta my body right now?

Uhh no.

Sigh. Great. I have to explain all the logistics of this place. Again.

We should really have a pamphlet or something.

[He feels like he should be a little annoyed, but this is much better than torture, so..]

Guess you gotta be the talking pamphlet.

[Talk to this guy for more than a minute, you'll be begging for torture]

This place, Astral Plane. You come and go by thinking about it pretty much. Everyone here does. We all have our own realities. They're all frozen in time while we're here. We can bring things from there here except anything with a brain.

[Then what are you doing here?]

The guys who seem to have the most know how are the Twins. They kinda have a "Shining" vibe. It might be best to stay away from them. They like to fuck with people's shit.

[His disbelief is visible.]

Astral... what the fuck are you talking about? Reality? We in the Matrix or something?

A couple people here are, but that's aside the point.

[What... Subject change time.]

Alright stretchy, so, what's with the spandex? You running with the Cats?

What's with the emo hair? You gonna go listen to Fallout Boy and cut yourself?

[WHAT BITCH]

I'd rather go rock out to My Chemical Fagance than go around with my gross dick hanging out in spandex.

You have a gross dick? My condolences. No wonder you cut yourself.

You wanna see it?

...

No.

[Isaiah's aggressive fades to a rather enormous grin.]

Wow. That was a pretty long pause there, cowboy.

Sorry, I had to retrieve my mind from the depths of Hell to escape the mental image.

Yeah, sure, supergay.

Hey, you were the one commenting on my junk.

You're the one showing everyone your junk in spandex.

Ladies love it, bub.

[Wide eyed and incredulous look around.]

Like a hole in the head, Hard Gay.

[Pulls out a gun and puts it to Izzy's head]

I can arrange that.

[Isaiah only freezes for a split second.]

I'm not a lady, Red.

I'm no sexist.

[He pulls an exaggerated moue.]

It was a word joke.

Funny. I'm not laughing.

This reminds me of another little thing about this place.

If you die, the Twins will bring you back to life.

[He titters a little nervously, partially because bringing back to life sounds a lot like a Certain Someone.]

So you do work for The Man.

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