Wellspring Arms and Meditation Center, Friday

[nottrivial]

The first thing Alec did upon arriving at the store today was sweep all of the blue eggs out of the shop immediately.

The next thing he did was stare, puzzled, at one of the display cases, wondering how to get it open. This lasted for about two hours, before he remembered the key in his pocket, shook his head to clear his thoughts, and went back to work.

That was very strange.

'Dite's Decadent Delights, Friday

[regretiz4suckas.livejournal.com]

Kenzi had escaped!!

In what might have been the last smart thing she'd do for a while-- or the first dumb thing-- she'd managed to climb out the bathroom window at the jail early this morning.

That's right. She was a Bad Girl Jailbait Gone Wrong Canadian Commie Reefer Addict. And she was On The Lam.

...and now she was hiding in the back of this shop, with her boxes of reefer and the other boxes which had ADULT MATERIALS scrawled on them in illicit handwriting. Plotting her next move.

Or, you know. Lighting up. And playing with those shiny blue marbles she'd picked up somewhere.

[Kenzi is not capable of OCD at the moment.]

Outside MST3000, Friday Evening

[hatesmoststuff.livejournal.com]

Yes, yes, April knew all of those pesky social rules: women of her age should only go to the pictures with a man to whom they were attached, et cetera, et cetera. Well, April -- in her bright red dress with a dark mink shawl tossed over her shoulders -- didn't care about those rules. She defied social customs, and just because she hadn't found herself a man yet because she didn't know how to be a proper housewife wasn't going to stop her from going to the cinema and seeing Nonconformist Lacking A Motive all by herself.

Hmph. She drew her shawl around her shoulders and took a deep breath before going inside, hoping that her impenetrable attitude would fool people into thinking she wasn't deeply mourning the perfect domestic family she desperately wanted and might never have.

[[open!]]

Caritas- Friday

[throughaphase]

Kitty didn't know what she was doing in here today. She'd gotten lost walking around town and came in to ask directions, and this strange, large dining room just looked so dirty to her that she'd just had to clean it, all while Tino complained about the dodo that had tried to attack him earlier. She'd replied by telling him to sit down in the lounge and brought him a nice cold beer, since this strange house seemed to have so many available.

Cleaning was made slightly more difficult by the shiny blue ball currently tied to her wrist like a bracelet, which kept getting in the way as she tried to wash glasses.... which meant she was also doing a lot of saying "Oopsie," and then having to get out the broom again.

The park, Friday

[one-for-vanity.livejournal.com]

The weather might not have been the warmest today, but M. du Vallon felt that he ought to actually go walking and explore this new island he had moved to. It was while admiring the exotically elegant birds -- flamingos, perhaps? -- in the duck pond that he was beset from behind by a flock of yet more exotic fowl.

It had been ages since Porthos was in a decent battle, but his sword was in his hand by the time he'd turned around. ...And it looked as though it would be ages still. This was not a battle; this was barely a nuisance. "/My friends,/" he told the birds, with a sigh of disappointment, "/I suggest you reconsider. You will clearly be no challenge to defeat, and I will therefore take no pleasure in killing you./"

The birds would not understand French, of course, so he punctuated his statement by waving his sword fiercely and shouting "SHOO!"

[Open park is open]

Near the School Gate, Friday Afternoon

[gladigotburned.livejournal.com]

This was the absolute last thing GLaDOS wanted to do: be outside, in this form, on a day when it seemed like everyone had gotten Intelligence Dampening Cores attached to them somehow. (She wouldn't rule out suspecting Wheatley of this somehow, either.) This was what she got for not shutting Atlas down while she tested a few attempted upgrades to the Portable Tuber-Powered Processor. An unwanted tour of the bird-infested island.

"Enough already, you glorified,directionally-challenged, idiotic aluminum can! Get me back inside! Let me spell that out for you: BACK. WHERE. WE. WERE. You know, before you stabbed me with that thing?" Not very well, it had to be noted; GLaDOS was dangling pretty precariously from one of the portal gun's prongs.

Until Atlas tripped over a raised cobblestone, shook the potato loose, and -- as GLaDOS rolled toward a cluster of dodos -- ran off back toward the AI chamber. Of course. Of course.

"Get away from me!" Oh, her panic processor still worked in this thing. That was . . . nice, if you could call the effect of a tinny, freaked-out voice coming from the middle of a group of birds nice. And while they weren't trying to eat her yet (probably because they kept kicking her around by accident) she wasn't ruling out the possibility, nor was she particularly happy to find out that she didn't need the footage from her black-box recorder (from the time Chell killed her) playing on a loop to have flashbacks. Yes, it had been a crow last time. No, that didn't matter. Fear wasn't rational, a fact she preferred to know from observation rather than personal experience. "Oh god, it's like you crossbred with the little idiot and spawned a nightmare."

The worst nightmare ever.

[OOC: For a specific rescuer, please, though open (if SP) for non-rescue-y interaction.]

Devil's Nest, Friday Evening

[allie-vamp.livejournal.com]

It had started out just like any other night as Allie had left her apartment and started towards the bar. Then the weird birds attacked. The good news was that in the great battle of dodos versus the wee vampire, the birds lost. Sort of messily.

Allie was at a seat near the door, cleaning bird gunk off her jacket.

The bar was open. Unless you were a dodo.

Across the Island, Friday Afternoon and BEYOND

[not_a_whiner]

The dodos had been planning. Plotting! Hatching a scheme (but no idiot balls)!

And sure, in the process, several of their number - some of which in lovely bows and poodle skirts - had perished. By falling off things. By walking into things. On one occasion, by being hurled at things. But! They would have their vengeance! Vengeance indeed! For their idiot balls had been stolen!

(Actually, a good sixty percent of them had just been misplaced. But that didn't really matter, for they were angry with rage.)

It had started small, yes. They had already been assaulting squirrels for a day. But! Next came the teal deer. Oh yes. The teal deer. And the poor alot of dodos? Well, that had been the first to go. Sure, there had been casualties on the dodo side of things, but it was a worthy sacrifice (of... four)! And now they had their eyes set on something bigger. The true perpetrators of this horrible crime. Yes! The people of Fandom themselves!

... Okay, that one enterprising dodo's plan to hurl himself into Tino's face hadn't worked out so well, but dangnabbit, they had numbers! And they would be used!

"FOR OUR CHILDREN! FOR THE DODO WAY! TO VICTORYYYY!"

Yes, Fandom, your streets were flooding with dodos today. And they were violent.

[[ ping to this post if you want NPC dodos (please mention it in the OOC) - links to open posts are also acceptable! - or mod your own dodos. In this post or otherwise. YARRRR. ]]

The Beach Near Galactica Point, Friday at Dusk

[fh-critters.livejournal.com]

The dodos were Not Pleased with the resistance they'd encountered all across the island to getting their balls back. In fact, not only had the humans and other bipedal things with no feathers that might as well be humans as far as the dodos cared fought back, even worse, some of them had laughed at the attacking flock.

When they squawked "GIVE US OUR BALLS BACK!" What was up with that? How could that battlecry not be the most fearsome in the land, especially when accompanied by nasty, snapping beaks?

Whatever. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, they would conquer. Tonight, they would retreat to the beach with the balls they had gotten back -- which honestly was most of the ones that no one was actually holding, because the one thing dodos were incredibly good at was locating stupidity -- and start building a nest. A nice, big, warm, sandy nest in which to hatch a whole new generation of dodo-kind.

Not that it would stay terribly warm once the tide came in, since they'd dug it so close to the shoreline that both they and their eggs would be three feet under water by midnight, but shh. Dodos. Now you know why so few of them are left.

That was assuming none of the humans came looking to help them on their way, of course.

[OOC: After this post, one way or another, the dodos are outta here! It's open for modding your own evacuation/extermination efforts, solo or in groups, or you can request a visit from NPC Dodo Services, Inc. down in the OCD. (Fair warning for some SP from the dodos, though, due to timezones and travel.)]

Outside MCA, late Friday night

[allie-vamp.livejournal.com]

After closing up at the bar, Allie planned on going back to her apartment to get her sword. It was definitely a faster and neater way to get rid of the annoying and violent birds.

Unfortunately the island had other plans.

Where once there had been a vampire, now there was a tiny vampire bat fluttering through the air.

Really Fandom?

[Heading out in the morning for a weekend of carousing with family and introducing my cousins to Cards Against Humanity. I'm so going to hell.]

Café Fina, Friday Afternoon

[one-for-vanity.livejournal.com]

M. du Vallon de Bracieaux de Pierrefonds d'Efferton walked into his restaurant carrying several dead dodo birds and contemplating them thoughtfully. "Tell me," he asked the staff at large, "what is it that makes us human?"

"Pardon, Monsieur?" asked the Pepper-Pot. He hadn't quite heard his master, because he had been deep in conversation with the Salt Cellar and Cheese Grater regarding the evening's menu.

"What is it that separates us from the animals?" M. du Vallon continued, in an uncharacteristically philosophical vein of thought. "Our minds? Our souls? We are given mastery of the Earth and the beasts that fill it by our Lord, but mayn't the beasts themselves say the same?" He had never been one to ponder the great mysteries of life, and he wished right now that he had even a fraction of Aramis's learned intelligence, Athos's wisdom, or d'Artagnan's cunning.

"You are saying words, but they mean little," the Salt Cellar interjected. "You must tell us what you are really asking."

"Ah." There, Porthos was on firmer ground. He gestured to the birds he had slain. "If an animal has the power of speech, and a mind capable of forming sentences -- is it still morally acceptable to eat it?"

The Cheese Grater looked up from the beautiful blue globe he had been contemplating and grinned at M. du Vallon. "But of COURSE it is!!!" he insisted. Their problem was solved!


Special of the Day
Roast Dodo Bird in Red Wine with Allspice and Garlic


[Fina is open]