The hardest part of Christmas, as far as Carol was concerned, wasn't the dinner. Nor was it getting the decorations up, or the cards written. This was mostly because, like any sane technopath, she cheated and used machines to do all of that for her - on the off chance that they worked correctly, of course. Daniel still wouldn't let her forget the time that the AutoTree had decided it wanted to be a rocket ship and left a huge hole in the ceiling, way back in 2015.
No, the hardest part was trying to get Sine a present.
Cauren was easy. Cauren hadn't seen half of what modern human civilization had to offer, and thus would be happy with quite a lot of things. It was basically like shopping for a kid all over again. But Sine... Sine was the sort of person who'd already been mostly everywhere, had already had everything at least twice and was most certainly not wanting for anything. And Carol was pretty sure that a Netflix subscription wasn't going to cut it.
No, this present had to be special. Because when one went gift-hunting for Sine, one had to go to some very great lengths.
And so it was that, one night, Carol borrowed the Sifter and began her search.
Showing posts with label Carol. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Carol. Show all posts
Thursday, 21 December 2017
Sunday, 26 February 2017
White Eyes Part 1/2
WARNING: The following contains themes and scenarios that certain viewers may find upsetting. Reader discretion is advised.
~RUTLEDGE ASYLUM AND FOSTER HOME FOR THE GIFTED~
Warden Jones should have remembered to lock that door. But he was old, and fed up, and the crazies in Section Zero were getting on what remained of his nerves. He'd spent half an hour trying to persuade the juting collection of limbs and heads called Ricardo to eat it's damn food, and that had been the last straw. Now all he wanted to do was get out, go home and get his own dinner - what amounted to it, anyway. He knew that, sooner or later, his vegetables would cease growing altogether, and then he'd have to move out before the ice reached him.
It also didn't help that he was drunk. He'd been indulging himself from his looted stash prior to his rounds - his method of coping with the screaming, jabbering and God knows what other noises he'd have to deal with. The only reason he hadn't been fired for this was because he was really good at his job, and in any case management knew they wouldn't be able to replace him. And, in any case, alcohol didn't impair him enough to stop him doing his job, although the stink of it made the freaks howl even worse.
At the time of writing, he'd just had to cart Patient Zero back to its cell. The Water Tests had been producing nothing new, except that the kid was surviving longer and longer, and what that was supposed to tell anyone, Jones had no clue. He didn't see how it was supposed to help them survive in this damned hellhole, where wolves and spiders and much worse prowled around and got those who didn't pay attention. But then again, Patient Zero was just another crazy to his mind - a quiet one, and much easier to manage, but not worth shedding tears about.
It was a little odd that they gave it this particular cell, though. A lot bigger than the others, and with more facilities - running water, an actual bed, a few board or puzzle games. Jones often wondered why this was necessary, but on this occasion he was drunk and fed up, and so didn't give it much thought at all, more concerned with bundling the shivering, whmpering thing into its bed than pondering the mysteries of life.
He slammed the heavy iron double-doors shut with a grunt of irritation, causing some of the rowdier monsters to start jabbering.And then, in a freakish, thousand-to-one chance, forgot to draw the sturdy, iron bolts that locked the door. Experience taught him that there should have been a beep to confirm if they were closed or not, but irritation and alcohol shoved that aside, and he simply assumed that it had already happened instead of double-checking. Who was he to doubt himself, after all, if not the best Warden in the entire asylum?
Taking his trolley and doing his best to shut out the noises of the other inmates, Jones turned and made for the exit door as fast as he could.
~RUTLEDGE ASYLUM AND FOSTER HOME FOR THE GIFTED~
Warden Jones should have remembered to lock that door. But he was old, and fed up, and the crazies in Section Zero were getting on what remained of his nerves. He'd spent half an hour trying to persuade the juting collection of limbs and heads called Ricardo to eat it's damn food, and that had been the last straw. Now all he wanted to do was get out, go home and get his own dinner - what amounted to it, anyway. He knew that, sooner or later, his vegetables would cease growing altogether, and then he'd have to move out before the ice reached him.
It also didn't help that he was drunk. He'd been indulging himself from his looted stash prior to his rounds - his method of coping with the screaming, jabbering and God knows what other noises he'd have to deal with. The only reason he hadn't been fired for this was because he was really good at his job, and in any case management knew they wouldn't be able to replace him. And, in any case, alcohol didn't impair him enough to stop him doing his job, although the stink of it made the freaks howl even worse.
At the time of writing, he'd just had to cart Patient Zero back to its cell. The Water Tests had been producing nothing new, except that the kid was surviving longer and longer, and what that was supposed to tell anyone, Jones had no clue. He didn't see how it was supposed to help them survive in this damned hellhole, where wolves and spiders and much worse prowled around and got those who didn't pay attention. But then again, Patient Zero was just another crazy to his mind - a quiet one, and much easier to manage, but not worth shedding tears about.
It was a little odd that they gave it this particular cell, though. A lot bigger than the others, and with more facilities - running water, an actual bed, a few board or puzzle games. Jones often wondered why this was necessary, but on this occasion he was drunk and fed up, and so didn't give it much thought at all, more concerned with bundling the shivering, whmpering thing into its bed than pondering the mysteries of life.
He slammed the heavy iron double-doors shut with a grunt of irritation, causing some of the rowdier monsters to start jabbering.And then, in a freakish, thousand-to-one chance, forgot to draw the sturdy, iron bolts that locked the door. Experience taught him that there should have been a beep to confirm if they were closed or not, but irritation and alcohol shoved that aside, and he simply assumed that it had already happened instead of double-checking. Who was he to doubt himself, after all, if not the best Warden in the entire asylum?
Taking his trolley and doing his best to shut out the noises of the other inmates, Jones turned and made for the exit door as fast as he could.
Friday, 8 April 2016
Cubic
The following is a response to the story posted by FormerVengeance here, as well as the various follow-ups. Also, be warned that it may change with future installations.
-------
"You've been on a cube kick recently, Carol."
Carol grunted, but didn't turn around. Sine wasn't wrong, though - most of the things running around the TARDIS looked like they had been cut from cubes, or had been cube-shaped some time ago. A reddish, eagle-shaped creature whistled as it flew in circles around the central column, follwed closely by a white-and-black, angular tiger, whilst a yellow, squared-off lion and a boxy green elephant pushed against each other, trumpeting and snarling irritably. Some might have suspected the technopath had been foiled by a Rubik's Cube at some point, and this was her way of taking vengeance upon the obtuse nature of the puzzle.
The problem was, she'd been like this ever since the adventure to save Ceneric. And it was all too obvious why Carol was doing this.
-------
"You've been on a cube kick recently, Carol."
Carol grunted, but didn't turn around. Sine wasn't wrong, though - most of the things running around the TARDIS looked like they had been cut from cubes, or had been cube-shaped some time ago. A reddish, eagle-shaped creature whistled as it flew in circles around the central column, follwed closely by a white-and-black, angular tiger, whilst a yellow, squared-off lion and a boxy green elephant pushed against each other, trumpeting and snarling irritably. Some might have suspected the technopath had been foiled by a Rubik's Cube at some point, and this was her way of taking vengeance upon the obtuse nature of the puzzle.
The problem was, she'd been like this ever since the adventure to save Ceneric. And it was all too obvious why Carol was doing this.
Thursday, 13 November 2014
Goats
(Special thanks to The Deleter for the concept and for writing Jonesy! And also to CW and FV for giving their blessing to this!)
Anyone visiting the Svilzerian household this particular afternoon would hear the strangest-goings on.
"Ha ha ha, that guy just flew, like, fifty feet!"
"My head is clipping through the wall, what is this?!"
The source would be a blonde and a redhead, hunched over a laptop and cackling like hyenas. Jonesy and Carol, to be precise, the marine having invited the technopath over for the day to stave off boredom whilst their respective friends were busy. And a few beers seemed like a good way to pass the time - several bottles were, in fact, littering the surface of the desk at that particular moment. But that had just been the setup, the actual source of the hilarity confined to what the two women happened to be playing on Carol's laptop.
That being co-op Goat Simulator.
Anyone visiting the Svilzerian household this particular afternoon would hear the strangest-goings on.
"Ha ha ha, that guy just flew, like, fifty feet!"
"My head is clipping through the wall, what is this?!"
The source would be a blonde and a redhead, hunched over a laptop and cackling like hyenas. Jonesy and Carol, to be precise, the marine having invited the technopath over for the day to stave off boredom whilst their respective friends were busy. And a few beers seemed like a good way to pass the time - several bottles were, in fact, littering the surface of the desk at that particular moment. But that had just been the setup, the actual source of the hilarity confined to what the two women happened to be playing on Carol's laptop.
That being co-op Goat Simulator.
Thursday, 24 April 2014
Perdition
The following is a collab with Cornwind Evil. He devised the main story framework, I took care of the writing. Enjoy!
-------
Sometimes, you think you know a person. You think you know their likes, their dislikes and their odd quirks that make them the unique individual they are. You hug them when they cry, you laugh when they tell you embarrassing stories of high school. You congratulate and scold them when the the comes to do so, you are there when they need you and not there when they don't. And then comes the moment when, out of the blue, they say or do something that completely changes your perspective on them and forces you to re-draw your mental picture of them, like opening packet of Digestives to find every third one is a Jaffa Cake.
-------
Sometimes, you think you know a person. You think you know their likes, their dislikes and their odd quirks that make them the unique individual they are. You hug them when they cry, you laugh when they tell you embarrassing stories of high school. You congratulate and scold them when the the comes to do so, you are there when they need you and not there when they don't. And then comes the moment when, out of the blue, they say or do something that completely changes your perspective on them and forces you to re-draw your mental picture of them, like opening packet of Digestives to find every third one is a Jaffa Cake.
Carol had her second moment when she saw the six-shooter Sine kept in a locked box.
She
knew it was cursed the moment her "partner" opened it up. The hissing
voices had hit her like a shot of whiskey hits the stomach, with the
exact amount of unpleasant churning. The urge to simply reach out and
grab it sat like a fat toad in the back of her mind, yet the rest of it
was screaming in silent terror loud enough to prevent that from
happening. What the technopath found the most unnerving, however, was
the fact that, despite everything her head was screaming at her, the
thing in front of her looked like a prop from a Lone Ranger set - almost
innocuous, despite being... well, a gun.
Blinking, she looked up at Sine, and saw the grim seriousness on her face. Oh, dear. It was going to be one of those things.
"Carol... Do you remember what happened a week ago?"
Carol gulped, ignoring the metaphorical snakes in her gullet. "Yeah... That didn't go so well, did it?"
That had been the first moment.
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