catch-all

[spaceassassin]

WHO: Keith + "friends"
WHERE: The Netherworld...? LISTEN. All over.
WHEN: December
WHAT: Event shenanigans + other
WARNINGS: Language??


( ooc: if you'd like to do something with keith ( doesn't have to be event-related! ), feel free to PM, msg/add sevenhelpings or wildcard your own! )

Comments

CALLISTO

[spaceassassin]

[ keith saw a business opportunity and he ran with it. if shiro knew what he was doing, he’d have some sort of fit; something about taking advantage and not being a generous soul during the most giving time of the ( imagined ) year. but when you’re stuck in the netherworld, scraping by, you gotta do what you gotta do to make money.

so keith’s invested. he’s bought dozens and dozens of blankets with the coin he’s acquired and bartered for an assortment more.

and now, he’s jacking up the price.

restless grumble from time to time, but they do fish out the required coin, the freezing tremble to their fingers the obvious deterrent to telling him to fuck off. the current selling day is going smoothly enough. so smoothly that he, actually, only has one blanket left in stock. fitting then, perhaps, that his possible last customer is someone who he recognizes, thus posing all the possibility of making this last sell more interesting ( see: difficult ). keith raises a brow as he comes closer, only to adjust into a contemplative stare. ]

If you’re here for human kindness… [ no charity here, dude. ] – keep moving. The blanket costs twenty coins.

[uncourteous]

[ honestly, there's so much he can say to this right now. there's a part of him that appreciates the tenacity and real human drive of it all, and then another part of him that finds the entire thing a little humorous, really. he supposed they were down on rougher times...

when he approaches the familiar face, what he doesn't expect is the statement. there's a part of him that instinctively wants to say that the cost is nothing. after all, he was the crown prince of the empire, and yet another part of him that completely comprehends that... he's no longer in such a position.

instead, he just raises his brow. ] How heartless. I could be freezing to death, you know?

[spaceassassin]

[ … he’s got him there. if his acquaintance here were actually in dire straits, keith, being the unfortunately good guy underneath his gruff, sometimes inappropriate aloofness, would toss him a bone. or in this case, a twenty coin blanket, that’s worth closer to ten. buuuuut. keith keeps that idle, accessing look, making a show of looking the dude over, bottom to top.

standing there – because a booth costs extra, ok – keith crosses his arms, voice droll. ]

Could be. [ a beat. ] But are you?

[uncourteous]

[ being flawless was one of the principles he had grown up with. even when suffering from poisoning or assassination attempts, he had always kept his wits about him. showed everyone no real inkling of the pain or anything else below the surface, and yet... ]

Yes. [ him wanting to be completely contrary wins out. ] I am quite unwell. I am practically dying. [ could this be said a testament to his trust in keith? or... that he enjoys bothering him that much. maybe a bit of both.

... maybe he doesn't even want the blanket that much. ]

[spaceassassin]

[ okay. keith has no room to speak when it comes to critiquing the acting chops of anyone else. but – looks like he’s going to, conveniently, overlook the act that he can’t fact his way out of a paper bag, to keep up that perpetually disgruntled look about himself.

seems callisto here is trying to sell him something, too, but keith ain’t buying. ]

You don’t look or sound it.

[ the dude is standing upright of all things! ]

LUMINE

[spaceassassin]

[ keith is a desert child. granted, the mojave desert gets cold in a few of the winter months, but when eighty percent of the year is eighties pushing up to the one-twenties, it goes without saying that keith grew up as one for heat. so he’s a bit like a disgruntled cat, sour-pussed in the face and hunched in on himself as he stares at lumine across from him. where are they? serene. more specifically, at one of the many gardens. there’s a stone bench that keith is sitting on – which, truly, is exasperating the chill – watching the five bunnies shiro adopted run about, chewing on flowers.

he probably shouldn’t be letting them do that but.

arms crossed tight over his chest, keith continues to stare, ignoring the chattering of his own teeth. his very blunt, unremarkable teeth. ]

… I’m not a vampire. [ yet???? ] I’m not gonna bite you. So can you just – come over here before we f-freeze?

[ YES WE. it’s not like he’s the only one here who is cold. they’re rescuing each other. YUP. ]

[unalign]

[ yet??? is not very comforting, but anyway.

to be fair, she's not keeping her distance because he's a vampire; she's not too worried about that. she's keeping her distance because he might not be too comfortable having another person next to him. which is a sentiment that a number of restless she's met in this place share. it's also why she's more than willing to endure the cold, focusing instead on the bunnies.

at least, until he calls her attention and she looks up slowly, seemingly frozen over already from her spot under the tree. then again, it looks as if he's the one who's frozen over instead, ahhh. ]

Not used to this kind of weather?

[ she isn't, either, but she can mostly deal with it. still look who's moving next to him, taking a seat on the bench. man, that stone is cold, like sitting-on-ice cold. ]

[spaceassassin]

[ it probably would have been a better plan for keith to go to her; icy ground is marginally better than dense stone. that would have required for keith to get up and move, though, which, according to his agitated thought process, is admitting further defeat. to who? the netherworld in general? whatever. he’s cold, he’s grumpy, and so, at current, he can’t be held accountable for how ridiculous his stream of thought is.

also, for the record, that shift that brings him closer to her by an inch? unintentional consequence of him readjusting himself in his seat, afraid that if he sits still too long he’ll actually fuse to this bench. ]

Not a lot of snow in Arizona. [ actually, there is, just not in the part he’s from. does she even know what arizona is? ] Or space.

[ he frowns and – okay, this next inch is maybe not so unintentional. he did ask – tell – her to come over here to warm up, little point in pretending that’s not what they’re not going to do. ]

[unalign]

[ if she notices him inching closer to her, she doesn't say anything. for one thing, she benefits from it too, noticing the growing warmth it brought between them. for another, he seems like the type who would react in mortification if she calls him out on it, similar to a recent "friend" she's made, and as much as possible, she wants peace.

peace and quiet in this freezing weather that is totally not normal at all. besides, the bunnies look like they're enjoying themselves tearing through the flora of the park. ]

Space is pretty cold, too.

[ and she says this matter-of-factly, like someone who's experienced the coldness firsthand. her expression doesn't change, though, her gaze still on the rumbunctious bunnies running around. how is it that they're not freezing like them ... ]

Just a little above absolute zero ... unless you stray near a star, of course.

FUKAWA

[spaceassassin]

[ keith is standing on a barrel, which is centered on a crate, and everything is going swell. bundled up from the chill that permeates the netherworld, keith, in his jacket, beanie, and non fingerless gloves, is having the slightest of difficulty holding the knife to the stem of one blasted mistletoe cluster. how did this start? well... he made the mistake of going out today, visiting the marketplace to, stupidly, look for a gift for shiro. there’s christmassy things everywhere, which means christmas is A Thing here, right? A Thing that is happening soon?

anyway.

of course, distracted, he’d wandered underneath some mistletoe riiiiiiight as someone else was. and here they are, being harassed by two, tiny sprites, who will not stop screaming in their already high-pitched voices about how they’re disgracing the gods. whatever. there’s nothing that says keith cutting down this mistletoe and, say, stomping on it, will negate a kiss and chase the sprites away, but he’s set on a course and he’s unlikely to stray from it. ]

Can’t you shut them up?

[ he’s concentrating here; sawing with one of those harvest carving knives he pilfered some time ago. he pulls it away, squinting and craning up, only to find that there isn’t even a mark on the the stem, the ribbon, the anything. ]

What the hell? It isn’t doing anything!

slams into this kool-aid man style

[janescayre]

Me?! [Fukawa squawks. She has to duck and slap at the air, being under sudden assault from an irate sprite. Seems unfair, since he's the one pruning their sacred berries.] Wh-what do you expect me to do?! Gag them with a scarf?

[She doesn't even know this guy from Adam, and he's already making demands of her. It wasn't her fault he was too stupid to look where he was going. Or even warn her, because it was definitely his ungainly bumbling that got them both in this mess. Fukawa seethes on the ground below. She does make a swat or two at the sprite, but she's always been better with verbal barbs than physical strikes.]

Are you s-sure you're not using the wrong side of the knife? [Because she wouldn't put it past him.] J-just — ugh! G-get down, stop wasting time! Let me try.

OH YEAH, OH YEAAAAAAH

[spaceassassin]

[ um, yes??? do what’cha gotta do, lady. keith, being the ever helpful dude when he’s stuck in a stubborn streak, mostly ignores her back-sass, as well as her struggles with the sprites. up until she outright insults him. having resumed sawing, he pauses and – he looks. he hates that he actually looks to make sure the teeth of the blade are angled correctly. annoyance for himself spikes and then is promptly redirected, all of it bubbling out in a sharp: ]

I know how to use a knife! [ if he had his marmora blade, this would be different. hell, if his bayard would cooperate, he’d have this thing down in a single swing. but no, he’s stuck with stolen crap, with a cracked handle and a dulling blade. at the rate of degradation of items here, he’s surprised it hasn’t disintegrated yet, honestly. ]

It’s not like there’s a trick to cutting. You just – cut. [ duh. DUH. he huffs, briefly looking away to kick at the sprite that comes too close to his boot.

disgraceful, fiend! honor the gods!

keith continues to ignore the sprite commentary. ]

So how is it gonna be any different with you holding the knife?

drinks self

[janescayre]

[In spite of his protests, it seems very apparent that he does not know how to use a knife. He even checks which side he's using? God, could he be any more thick?

Fukawa glowers as his efforts continue to come to naught, her patience thinning to an anemic trickle.]

It'll b-be different because it's not you. [Clearly. She wonders, though, if maybe the knife itself is the problem. Most items degraded quickly, so it could have been dulled to defectiveness. Ordinarily she wouldn't dream of employing Syo's scissors at at time like this, but also, her maidenly honor is on the line. She can't kiss this guy. This total nothing of a stranger! This — this wet sack of dead leaves! He's got no brains and a shitty attitude, even if his face was passable. If you squinted. It would be betraying her undying devotion to Byakuya-sama, which is complete and total and definitely not wavering thanks to the influx of bishounen boys.

So. It's an emergency, and it's time she did something about it.]

Just get down already.

[Fukawa twists away a moment, all the better to mask how she has to reach beneath her skirt to pull out a pair. She doesn't know what Syo's done or whether she had anything to do with it at all, but four out of however many pairs she's scavenged have not taken one scratch. They're as solid as the real deal, while the others are beginning to rust. She hopes they're not soul-forged, but...

Fukawa turns back, one imposing pair threaded over her knuckles. It gleams with surgical sharpness, and if he's the type to notice he can tell the blades have been sharpened on both sides.]

I'll t-try my own way.

SHIRO

[spaceassassin]

[ the hall of honest stallion lodge is decked so extravagantly for the supposed season that keith would find it obnoxious if it didn’t bring shiro such obvious joy. he’s there across the way, through a gaggle of restless meandering around what looks remarkably like a christmas tree and near the hearth where a fire burns bright. shiro meant to get them two cups of this lodge’s eggnog; the recipe a hit among seemingly everyone. keith will be the real test. spoiler: keith has no real fondness for earth’s version.

but shiro’s game, so keith’s game. that’s how it works.

shiro, seemingly, has become distracted by some overly enthusiastic worker who is either dressed like one or is an elf. of the north pole variety. she plunks a hat on his head and it’s… terrible. keith, with his arms crossed on the table and his chin propped on his forearm, doesn’t even bother to muffle the snort. he should have, in hindsight, because his company only piques with interest. ]

You don’t have to keep following me, y’know. Whatever you say, I’m just gonna ignore you. Like the five who came before you.

[ it’s a problem. strike that. it’s an annoyance. one that is manageable through sheer stubbornness. it’s difficult to scowl when his gaze is still tracking shiro across the room, but keith tries anyway. see, he’s made the mistake of being caught under blasted mistletoe far too many times now. the first time happened with shiro, naturally, and god, it’s a wonder he didn’t learn his lesson from the terror those sprites wrought on their household. ]

Your eyes never stray from him. Don’t you wish to–

[ he tunes out the high-pitched jabber. he’s had far too many encouragements to kiss his best friend, not all of which having come from sprites. he just needs to wait this one out and – oh. it flutters off. just like that. like it wasn't in the middle of trying to convince him. the few who came before were like that. it's like an invisible timer goes off and they simply disengage. not that he's complaining. sighing now, the relief is short lived, because while quiet, this now means he is vulnerable for a reset.

new plan: start cataloging where every shred of mistletoe is in this place. ]

will a kiss finally happen like everyone basically suggested

[constellational]

⟪ it’s just so cozy. even in a world where death reigns, christmas has managed to seep through, and shiro finds it a little easier to breathe. not… literally, unfortunately, but it’s a soothing balm on his misfortunes, and he’ll gladly take the crumbs of the universe’s good will. it’s a bit pathetic, but the fight in him has drastically dwindled—he stays afloat because he has to, though the overall cheery atmosphere does make it more… encouraging, maybe, to count his blessings. however few they may be.

one of them is keith, somehow always willing to oblige. listen. for one, he needs a break from the sprites following him around. shiro’s had a couple so far, plus one giant, wide-mouthed thing he never wants to see again, but keith’s personal space is pretty tight, and it’s been invaded almost nonstop for a few days now. it’s one of the reasons why he decided to come here—aside from his own blatant excitement—a snug, warm evening with a belly full of delicacies, the fireplace’s flames just the perfect amount of light to make it all seem a little magical. it kind of is, with all that mistletoe sprouting out of nowhere, just like the small box secured in his back pocket, another reason for his impromptu outing.

just look at his hat. 100% worth it. ⟫

Cliffhanger? ⟪ shiro’s all smiles when he finally returns, a tease underlining the sprites’ last words as he sits down and pushes one of the mugs towards keith. don’t you wish to…? he didn’t quite catch what came before that, though he can only assume it added to keith’s annoyance, if his face’s any indication. sympathy flickers in shiro’s eyes, flames reflected; he looks up for good measure, though the ceiling is, so far, clear. ⟫ I think they’re starting to like you. ⟪ because how many has it been? a handful, at least? ⟫ Throwing mistletoe wherever you are, on purpose. Want a hat? You know… Go incognito.

naaaah, keith's got a lookout for mistletoe. they're safe...

[spaceassassin]

[ oh. hello shiro. heard the end of that, did you? shiro’s harmless and sweet in his greeting, but feeling caught, keith thinks of what came before, flushing so quick and so pretty that he might actually match the poinsettia centerpiece in a second or two. so no, he doesn’t keep true to what the sprite said. his eyes do stray from shiro, namely toward the tabletop, where his arms have slid off, both hands now grasping together in his lap.

shiro is magnetic as always, though, and it takes the barest effort for him to coax keith into peeking at him, a tentative smile tugging at his mouth. like him? like shiro. shiro’s attracted his own fair share, much to keith’s dismay. not that any of that is surprising. shiro attracts attention; sometimes good, sometimes bad, that’s what he does. hell, he has that hat on his head as direct evidence that he can’t go two minutes without drawing someone’s eye and intention.

it bothers him somewhat, because attracting attention is, in shiro’s case, usually synonymous with attracting trouble, but his mood is currently kept afloat by the lightness of shiro’s teasing and that ridiculous thing upon his head. no way is he letting shiro pawn that off on him. ]

I’ll take my chances with the Sprites. [ he grins slow and cheeky, cheeks still a touch pink; perhaps it can be attributed to the warmth of the room. in the spirit of christmas though, he should probably be a good friend and lie about that hat, huh? ] But uh… yours is nice? [ a pause and a short, barely there laugh underneath his breath. ] The ears are almost as big as yours. [ it’s entirely fond in delivery; that counts for something? ]

you sound very confident

[constellational]

⟪ he does attract trouble, doesn’t he. his best friend is a testament to that, trouble on two legs... with an aversion towards christmas hats, apparently. keith would rather deal with knaveries all day long and shiro feels personally attacked. wow... no, scratch that; he’s absolutely insulted, a gratuitous jab at his ears which have done nothing to deserve this!! come on now. they’re almost as perfect as the hat’s, and shiro feigns an offense he doesn’t feel, only to grin wide a second later. ⟫

Yeah? So you like ‘em huh. ⟪ his ears, that is, because just a moment before, he was complimenting the hat. nice, he said, clearly a comparison, and before keith turns a darker shade of pink, shiro finds a modicum of mercy in his heart, not wanting to put him on the spot. even for something as silly and inconsequential as this.

granted, it’s never 100% inconsequential for shiro, but that’s another story for another day. ⟫

Here. ⟪ he leans in, gently taps against keith’s mug. ⟫ Try your eggnog, and tell me it doesn’t taste like magic. ⟪ which is, basically, christmas in a nutshell for shiro. magic. face scrunched up, he brings his flesh hand closer to his face, thumb and index crooked and almost touching. ⟫ At least a little.

ROSA

[spaceassassin]

[ keith should know by now that piling on more clothes doesn’t keep the chill out. he’s stubborn like that, though. two pants, two jackets, full gloves, a beanie… he’s certainly trying to beat the weather. currently? he’s losing. which is why he’s moving onto the next obvious solution: fire.

arguably, the more obvious solution would be to cozy up to someone. that seems to yield the quickest results. buuuuuuut.

chop.

he splits a log down the center and then tosses the two pieces onto the pile of what is, seemingly, going to be a huge firepit. the issue here is that full gloves make striking the match difficult. tearing off said gloves to strike the match yields similar dismal results, his fingers already stiff and useless from the cold. scowling at the small pile of tinder he’s trying to light, keith then abruptly shoots a look over at someone passing by. oh. wait, he knows her.

… doesn’t mean he softens his voice any closer to kindness, though. ]

T-think you can h-help light this?

[declass]

Oh, hello.

[ she lifts a hand in a polite greeting and, seemingly considering the options, walks over to him. this entire month has been hateful, especially considering she is normally very good at handling cold; sometimes you are part polar bear. every time she shivers it feels like an insult.

but she'll hold a hand out to take the match from him. ]

Let me try. I've had practice doing this in this kind of weather.

[spaceassassin]

[ excellent. good. soon he’ll be thawed with some good ol’ blazin’ fire. so outstretched goes her hand, as well as keith’s, as he drops the matchbox in her palm. he loathes the idea of forcing his stiff, cold-zapped limbs into movement, but he does so by part shuffling, part scooting two, three feet to the side, giving her better access to the tinder. ]

Yeah? Hopefully you get it – there aren’t a whole lot left.

[ matches, he means. not his doing, okay? when he came into possession of the matchbox, it wasn’t full. ]

[declass]

[ whether or not she believes him is unclear, at least, as she keeps her expression neutral. it's fine.

but at the very least, rosa does have less issue with using the match-- a combination of actually being well practiced in doing this in the cold, but also that she hasn't been standing here as long as keith has been. whether or not the fire will actually help is a different story. ]

-- there! Hopefully that'll work out.

slides this here

[particlebarrier]

[ in a word, lance is ... lost. and not in a happy-go-lucky, time for an unscheduled adventure sort of way. the one thing lance can think over and over is that he can't be dead because being dead has disastrous implications for the team. ... at least in theory. every team has a weakest member, AND lance doesn't need to be told to know exactly who it is.

one way or another, it doesn't matter. lance refuses to be stuck here, and isn't going to accept the premise of his existence in this place. so the plan of attack? blend in for now until he figures out how to get out. blending in means looking less like a lost tourist though, and that's going to mean acquiring resources. credits, to start with which is how he ends up on the front steps of some jewelry shop advertising ten credits per amulet or whatever.

in typical lance fashion, he has a broad grin on his face, fingerguns cocked and loaded as he petitions some cute girl walking by. ]

Hey. Name's Lance. Wanna help me make this gem sparkle as bright as you?

[ apparently, it doesn't matter what reality lance is in. the blank stare and silent brush off are evidently universal constants. sighing loudly, lance's shoulders sag as he scrubs his hands down his face.

but what's that coming towards him? a mullet truly deserving of banishment to the netherworld? lance binks, once twice in quick succession. ]

....Keith?! That you?

i was gonna say welcome but "a mullet truly deserving of banishment to the netherworld" WOW

[spaceassassin]

[ keith’s minding his own business. it’s his default approach to life – death?? – but especially lately, with clusters of mistletoe manifesting out of seemingly thin air and restless half-frozen. ever since this cold snap rolled in, there’s always someone needing five, no ten minutes of shared space, please, dude, please. gah! keep your head down, don’t make eye contact and book it through the streets to finish up the necessities; that’s the plan.

the errand he’s currently on? it’s technically not a necessity. last time he’d been this way, he’d outright dismissed esmeralda’s peddling of crystals that supposedly emit continuous heat. the catch being that they need to be charged prior to purchase. hogwash, really. with everything else that’s been going on with sprites and forced interaction, this had sounded like another headache in the making. but now, fresh from the shadowlands and having experienced one of those handheld space heaters… well…

it would be smart to have one of those, heh, on hand.

shiro is rubbing off on him, clearly. caught between wanting to sigh and smile, keith rounds a corner and comes into sight of esmeralda’s small establishment, only to spot someone he never wanted to see here. he falters in step, pausing in stride and everything freezes for one, solid beat before time starts up again, his legs moving faster to make up the difference. ]

You’re here? [ questions start rolling together in his head, but he’s not there yet. he’s not ready for a calm, collected, rational discussion of what this all means. instead, he’s closing in, the combination of worry and disappointment translating into a tone that’s more combative than he intends. ] You’re not supposed to be here!

THE MULLET!! not keith, gosh... is keith his mullet now!!

[particlebarrier]

[ apparently neither of them are adjusting particularly well to this turn of events. lance continues to blink in rapid succession as the cogs turn in his head. the grim reality is that they'd all been going space mad, losing track of time, place and even themselves for however long they'd been stranded without the lions in deep space. little reason exists to suggest lance dying precludes the others from meeting much the same fate, and yet: ]

You're damn right I'm not supposed to be here! Why are you here?!

[ they'd argued. hideously, at that. but that doesn't mean he'd wanted anything truly horrible to happen to keith or any of the others for that matter.

.... oh god, the others. far from calming down, lance looks around with renewed panic. ]

Wait, if you're here, does that mean -- Hunk? Pidge? Allura? Are they here too?

lance always talks like it's the main point of keith's identity, so, yeah!

[spaceassassin]

[ it’s confusing and keith does not do well with confusing. he should be better at confronting this; shiro and him went through this same thing, shuffling so fast between confusion, denial, anger, concern, to ultimately land somewhere in the vicinity of acceptance. but it’s far too easy to escalate when the backboard he’s bouncing his words off of is sassing right back at him. typical, instead of giving him something solid to go off of, it’s being turned around on him. still advancing, the distance is closing quickly and somewhere from one step to the next, he fills in the implied blank himself.

by now, the team’s already gone. i saw to it myself.

so the clone succeeded? no, that doesn’t make sense. shiro – the real shiro – said they made it out. the team survived; everyone, even shiro, rescued from being trapped within black’s consciousness. same reality? different reality? what lance is this? when is this lance?

lance’s expression shifts, as does his voice, but keith’s still moving through the same stride and same mindset, so he snaps back immediately: ]

No! They know how to stay alive!

[ … ah. that’s not just an insult to lance, is it? clamping his mouth shut, keith stops short a few feet from lance and makes up for his self-burn by folding his arms tight across his chest. hmph. he closes his eyes through the next heavy breath, brow twitching. ]

Just – what happened, Lance?