|
Post by Prudence on Jul 5, 2009 0:38:38 GMT -5
Peas...? Prudence adjusts her pillow and climbs under her covers. What was she...? "Ohhh. Peas. I am so sick I was confusing Kafka characters with geneticists. I meant Gregor...Gregor...." She pauses. The virus has taken her brain, surely. "The one in The Metamorphosis, you know. Turns into a giant bug." Surely she sounds less crazy now. Now that she's talking about workaholics turning into cockroaches and being worried about missing work. "If I turn into a giant bug, you promise you won't throw any apples at me? I just want to show my insectoid affection."
|
|
|
Post by Sir_Integral on Jul 5, 2009 12:27:04 GMT -5
"I should have known." The knight says, rather flatly. "I wish I could say you're so ill you've become delirious, but I'm afraid I know better...You were already a bit off your nut... You would work yourself hard enough, but I'm not sure you would go through any overly-dramatic changes... I see you as less Kafka, more Rod Sterling..." She grins at the thought of Prudence in a post-appocolyptic library, sitting amongst piles of books, broken glasses in hand, babbeling something about having 'Time enough at last.' It wasen't very hard to imagine at all.
|
|
|
Post by Prudence on Jul 5, 2009 15:48:03 GMT -5
Prudence smiles, and takes off her glasses to set them down on the nightstand. She was quite an avid fan of Mr. Serling. "In case of apocalypse, I'm nearsighted. I could still read. Although I'm pretty effed if I meet a dreamy communist soldier and we're the last two people on Earth, AND my glasses break." She picks up on of the books she brought with her. "No handsome Soviets will want to be the Adam to my Eve if I'm squinting all the time." Prudence pauses in thought. "I need to stop thinking about the Twilight Zone. I'm starting to worry that I may have already died, and this is heaven, except that it's Hell. Or something." She cracks the book open and gives a stern look to her friend. "Anyway, the point is, if I do turn into a bug, what you think is creepy is just a change in my biology and I still love you very much. Kind of like puberty, only instead of breasts and pubic hair, I'd be growing extra legs and a carapace."
|
|
|
Post by Sir_Integral on Jul 5, 2009 18:50:03 GMT -5
Integral chuckles, settling herself at Prudence's desk and spreading out some of her papers. "Right. I'll still love you if you go though insect puberty. I'll just love you from the other side of your holding pen... Do try to prevent changing, though, As I'm afraid Allastor would have to wrestle you into your pen, and if you happen to bite his head off in the process, I'm afraid you would catch something worse than Gregor-Mendel-itis." Again she chuckles. "Don't worry, Sir Winfield, She's only here to serve man."
|
|
|
Post by Prudence on Jul 5, 2009 22:14:04 GMT -5
"I wouldn't mind serving Sir Winfield as graciously and dutifully as I could...on my best plates." Prudence pauses to imagine the man's head on a silver platter. It was a lovely visual, really. "As long as no one throws fruit at me in my bugular form." She picks up her book and begins to read, sniffling occasionally.
|
|
|
Post by Sir_Integral on Jul 6, 2009 14:48:55 GMT -5
"No one will throw fruit at you, other than oranges...and I intend to shove those down your throat in juice form. You need it." She murmurs, sitting back in Prudence's desk chair and crossing her legs, a report of the previous evening's raid in her gloved hands.
|
|