thusia | (no subject)

Who: Any unfortunate individuals wandering by
When: Day 120, evening
Where: The fourth floor
What: FUN THINGS

[Sunset and cool evening air creeps over the fourth floor, but this evening there's something else in the air. The lights are dim and the shadows between them dark, and something within isn't quite the way it should be.

No, bring the light closer and it's normal. Everything is perfectly normal. Isn't it?

The smell of wildflowers and char is just your imagination. The way the grey stone slides into concrete lit by neon lights, or the smooth white of a castle wall is nothing more than a trick of the light. It's surely not raining in here, nor are those clouds between the dim arches of the ceiling.

The trail of blossoms growing intermittently along the wall between Pi-Lambda and the south windows, though, are most definitely there. The colours seem to shift and change of their own accord, inviting a closer look.]

(( Sometimes, when an illusionist has a memory hangover, everyone gets to have a hangover.

The kaliedoscope blossoms (for those that recognize them) are as hypnotic as ever, their petals (mixed with water) are just as intoxicating, and the barbs they stick out when touched are just as sharp. Watch your fingers, and please consume responsibly. ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

...Did I black out from sheer sobriety, and make a deal with one of the gods for drugs or something?

[It does rather seem like that could be the case.

For a hallucination, though, the flowers on the far wall are remarkably captivating.]

[staaaaare]

Well. That's certainly a thing.

[Oh, they are. Delicate as orchids, and in all manner of colours. In fact, the longer you look . . . is that one red, or orange? How curious.

The smell that comes from them is sweet, and, well. Just faintly, faintly tinged with the fragrance of alcohol.]

[yep, leaning in]

Now don't you smell like the best thing ever.

[It does, really. Like citrus and sugar and vodka. Even looking at it is . . . mellowing, relaxing, as if your tensions and cares were caught up and slowly pulled away with the petals' shifting hues.]

[Attempt to nab the flower?]

[It's perfectly successful!

Except for how the petals curl back at her touch, the protective outer flower pod closing over them. But are you going to let a few horribly sharp thorns and a bit of stabbing get between you and inebriation?]

[No.

Hell no.

MUST DROWN LIFE IN INEBRIATION]

[They're only flesh wounds, after all.

A few minorly stabbed fingers later, she is in proud possession of one beautiful blue blossom. And best decide what to do with it soon, that distant rumble promises rain.]

[Doesn't. Really know what to do with it, except plop down to stare at it and keep sniffing.

But hey, she loves water. Rain isn't the worst thing ever.]

[And if anything, the droplets hitting the petals only intensify the smell. They're . . . sticky, too, as they run over her fingers, as if the mere contact was enough to infuse them with the flower's essence.

Another rumble of thunder, the stormclouds above thickening.]

[...Licking it is, sadly, not the strangest decision-making Isabela is prone to.]

[Sure tastes pretty much like it smells. Light, fruity, with (at this concentration, especially) a kick that burns all the way down.]

[grimace, and going for some more]

Now there's a good fire.

[...at a guess this is all an illusion and she's sitting there stupidly licking whatever.]

[Well, the flower is certainly real enough, as is the case of alcohol poisoning she's courting by going for it completely undiluted like this. Perhaps, soaking it in even as much as a cup of water . . . ?]

[but we want alcohol poisoning it is fun and good]

[okay it isn't but she has no qualms with taking inebriation to ultimately terrible conclusions]

[sometimes attempting to live with no boundaries isn't pretty]

[Gosh is it just you or did that slight shift in balance feel like the whole world was moving?]