Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Why? A' least y'aren't li' me mate Pyroth, aye? All... crippled over an' sech'. Besides, they'll be too busy glarin' a' th'freak wit' th'tentacles. Or too drunk t'notice, if it's a *good* party, eh?" He grinned uselessly.

"Dark as me black oily heart," He chuckled, swiping a baggy from her kitchen for the seeds befor following after. He wasn't about to go to the party alone anyway. Even if he was on a mission for booze.

I Never 1

((Time waaarp >D ))

The sun had begun to creep over the horizon by the time Chert found himself standing at the doorstep of duplex number thirty. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his boots were cacked in plant debris and mud. For two hours after the argument with Awen, he'd been pacing through the jungle, trying to stamp out the emotions the conversation had inspired with every heavy footstep. It had not been a leisurely walk.

Chert raised his fist, hesitating a breath before he rapped on Antony's door. Memories from the last meeting reared their ugly heads, all too happy to add to the general chaos of his current thoughts. He'd meant to visit earlier, but "tomorrow" had a way of persisting, until over 10 "tomorrows" later he was wondering if she'd shoot him on sight. Damn, he thought. And then for good measure, Damn it to hell.

Chert tried to brush off a clump of mud that clung to his shirt sleeve, and succeeded in turning the speck into a long dark smudge. "Hi," he said shortly. "Busy?" Antony's greeting stung, but the fact that he deserved it dimmed his desire to retort in kind. The man pretended to scan the area around the duplexes; he wasn't eager to see what kind of expression had hold of her face at that moment.

The warning attracted Chert's attention down to his less-than-spotless footwear. He stared at them blankly a moment, wondering what stretch of earth he'd wandered through that could have endowed his boots with such an impressive layer of mud. But it was a rainforest, keyword: rain. There was mud everywhere. His frown deepened as he realized that there was no way around unlacing the damn things if he wanted into Antony's duplex.

A grumbled escaped his throat as he leaned down to begin the lengthy process. The manufacturer of the boots had apparently wanted to be very certain that there was no chance of the shoes getting pulled off by a giant gorilla or a pool of quicksand. Why else have so many laces? He shot a sullen glance at Antony beforing returning to the present task.

His hands froze in place.

His eyes darted back towards the face peering out from the crack in the door.

Chert stumbled forward and out of his awkward position. As he did so, one hand shot out reflexively, wedging itself in between the door and the frame. "Wait-!" Shock and disbelief carved deep lines across his forehead. He was imagining things- he had to be.

The stupefied expression persisted for several more painful heartbeats before the man abruptly bent down and began to work at his laces again. His thoughts were still darting about like a panicked school of fish- Oh god, Antony- she...- squirrel! When?- but the gears of his defense mechanisms had started to grind into motion as soon as his mind had begun to lose a handle on the situation. Boots, first. That was a concrete problem that could be dealt with easily. After a few moments, he placed his muddy shoes by the side of the door and slipped inside. His eyes couldn't decide whether they wanted to rest on Antony's face of occupy themselves elsewhere. Chert was vaguely aware that so far he was handling the situation badly, but goddamnit- his life hadn't provided many opportunities to practice for when your friend changed into a giant squirrel.