http://pactum.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
pactum.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
realityshifted2010-10-16 11:02 pm
pactum.livejournal.com) wrote in realityshifted2010-10-16 11:02 pm
Entry tags:
nineteenth pact ❖ {picnic with the devil}
[Emil has taken over the bottom floor of the library, shoving chairs and tables aside so that he can camp out in the middle. One of the curtains from... somewhere has been converted into use as a picnic blanket, enough to sit at least five or six.
Emil has been busy cooking /all day/ just for this moment, and it seems like he's cooked for an army. Surrounding him include: creamy vegetable soup, some kind of cold bean soup, a tower of warm sandwiches from grilled cheese to meatball, cold sandwiches with cold meat, bowls of sweet custard, tiny coffee cakes with homemade icing, at least five different kinds of cute miniature pie (apple, cherry, chocolate, peanut butter, and pumpkin), crockpot-made macaroni and cheese, some kind of frito pie, yogurt and jello partfait, cottage cheese and fruit, a bowl of fruit cocktail, fresh sliced apples and peanut butter carved into shapes of KITTENS, cute pears, cupcakes that are happy, cupcakes with stylized fruit on them, and campfire cupcakes.
Yes, that's a lot of food. He might get zombies to come in here. But the weirdest thing is that he's eating and talking with invisible people. Or yelling at himself, as it were. His wolfish creature sits at the other end of the rug, clearly disturbed, while a black kitten sleeps on Emil's lap.]
Here, Richter, try some of this! It's your favorite, right?
Wake up, you moron!
[Emil stares at a spot to his left.] I... what? But I am awake. A-are you sure you don't want any of the—
SHUT UP! You're hallucinating, you idiot!
[And here Emil looks skeptical. Of himself.] ... No, I'm not.
Whatever. I'm done trying to talk you out of it.
[He winces as if slapped, and when he looks up again, he looks like a kicked puppy.] W-wait, where did everyone...
Oh.
[ooc: FOOD. HAVE AT.]
Emil has been busy cooking /all day/ just for this moment, and it seems like he's cooked for an army. Surrounding him include: creamy vegetable soup, some kind of cold bean soup, a tower of warm sandwiches from grilled cheese to meatball, cold sandwiches with cold meat, bowls of sweet custard, tiny coffee cakes with homemade icing, at least five different kinds of cute miniature pie (apple, cherry, chocolate, peanut butter, and pumpkin), crockpot-made macaroni and cheese, some kind of frito pie, yogurt and jello partfait, cottage cheese and fruit, a bowl of fruit cocktail, fresh sliced apples and peanut butter carved into shapes of KITTENS, cute pears, cupcakes that are happy, cupcakes with stylized fruit on them, and campfire cupcakes.
Yes, that's a lot of food. He might get zombies to come in here. But the weirdest thing is that he's eating and talking with invisible people. Or yelling at himself, as it were. His wolfish creature sits at the other end of the rug, clearly disturbed, while a black kitten sleeps on Emil's lap.]
Here, Richter, try some of this! It's your favorite, right?
Wake up, you moron!
[Emil stares at a spot to his left.] I... what? But I am awake. A-are you sure you don't want any of the—
SHUT UP! You're hallucinating, you idiot!
[And here Emil looks skeptical. Of himself.] ... No, I'm not.
Whatever. I'm done trying to talk you out of it.
[He winces as if slapped, and when he looks up again, he looks like a kicked puppy.] W-wait, where did everyone...
Oh.
[ooc: FOOD. HAVE AT.]