Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was a late night, busy in the kitchen where he was working and he was exhausted. He smelled like smoke, char, grilled meat, so much garlic… and of course the days’s special which meant he -hated- life right now because of course it was lobster dish night.

He’d still packed a bag of left overs to bring home to see if Sterling would want any of what they were allowed to take home at close.

Of course he’d missed -all- the deserts, those got stepped up by senior staff in a heartbeat, especially since it had been some decadent chocolate confection he’d just about have chopped fingers to grab if he could have. Sadly he felt inadequately prepared to judge if doing so would have been worth the jail time and loss of his job.

Still, at least he could let his hair down at last, having had it up in a braided knot for work just added to the headache.

He yawned as he walked, wishing that he hadn’t decided to stop smoking again, but also not -really. It was too hard to find cloves, among other things.
He’d parked so far out of the way just to get a spot too, what a pain. He turned and wandered down one of the alley ways, intending to use older haunts to cut a faster way to his auto for the drive home. More and more grateful for that old mattress and a shower he’d not have to fight anyone for.

This… was… bullshit.

Yes, not the most rational thought to have perhaps, when a crazy woman appeared in front of you with what looked like a spear. But that was in fact his first thought.
He let out a -long- suffering sigh.

“… The answer is…YES.” He said with his most ‘I am no longer being paid to engage in acts of ‘customer service’’ tone of voice. “Damn shame I have plans for the food, go talk to… ‘Cookie’, or hit up Mickey D’s, I’m pretty sure they don’t even mind cosplayers, especially at this hour.”

He did smell like food, but god damnit he had a lingering desire to stab someone and he was seriously considering if beating someone to death with their Cosplay prop would be satisfying enough.

HIS food, his hard earned to share leftovers... for ambiguous promise of power.
It sounded super fake and very irritating- and then she just sort of... vanished.
He half stepped back only to have her tap his shoulder. That s**t didn’t... couldn’t happen. He had to Be more tired than he realized .

“Yeahhhh so you’re... trying to take my food but, also offering to give me ‘power’, to stop it??” He quipped. Hanging the bag of food at the end of two outstretched fingers.

“But that still leaves you trying to take my food.”

“Mother of..”He didn’t finish the sentence, the intent having been to lure her in for a good old kick when she grabbed the food but again, it seemed he was way more tired than he wanted to admit.

“You can TRY but I promise…I’m not some easy picking city slicker son of a….” He shook his head pushing away the last word like there was a censor on his life


He lunged forward to try and snag the precious dinner, it still seemed more real than this promise of ‘power’ that she was offering. Food was food after all, even if t wasn’t for him.

“Maybe if you played nice I’d bring you left overs too, but those are taken.”

He gritted his teeth, flashing sharp k-9s, feral teeth and feral intentions.

“I have got to be…so much more tired than I wanted to admit, but I can still defend my turf from some crazy cosplay lady trying to make news. I’ll get you the damn McDonalds. But that, that bag you took? Spoken for…”

“How the F—k are you…” He stumbled, swinging to try…hard and connect with her which did him about jack worth of good. She just kept…vanishing.

“My…Housemate you…” He exhaled sharply, the cognitive dissonance of seeing her hand… in his chest. IN ….HIS….CHEST… made the world tip sharply to the left and spin like a carnival ride, a nauseating tilt and spin.

“The…hell??” He wheezed.
Food dropped from his fingers to the ground and He fumbled to grasp her wrist with both hands, to make this surreal reality stop.

“Prasite??! Are you serious!? Should have just…given you the f—ing dinner, Im not something you pick up because you can’t keep yourself from dipping your wick!”

It hurt though, Squeezing his eyes shut at the pure sensation of intrusion.

Gem?? would she just rip his heart out like an Indiana Jones film if he didn’t say yes confused
He wasn’t into cosplay, thats the term his brain kept snagging on, because none of this could be real, right? It was dumb students in cosplay and … vague ideas of…whatever the pop term on the news was…

Pushing against her wrist was like trying to rip up a small tree for all that it was effective. He hissed through his teeth at the sensation, it wasn’t like anything he’d had to deal with before. Pain was familiar, the method not…
Less so… that he had to be loosing his damned mind, because clothes didn’t change shape… except they had, and color too.
Her hand braced against his shoulder like they knew each other and he trusted her to boot.
It didn’t hurt anymore but it was the strangest kind of detachment.

“Parisite….s… seriously?” he said disbelieving, but she…felt different.

There was a feeling that just, it pressed against him like a hand.

“The f—eck…did you just, do?” He demanded.

General she had said, power she said, certainly change. Certainly a shift in perspective.

He glanced down at himself, and found everything strange, fitting perhaps with the detached feeling that swam through his head.

The words sank home like knives.. the heavy implication that he was back in, neck deep in more than he could have anticipated, a new battleground, a new… war, with new odds and new rules.

He found the crochet hooks tucked into the belts at his waist, pulling one out and making a face at them.

“What…the…hell.” He murmured.

“…So… General, you should know i have an issue with authority.” He said glancing at her, shaking his head baffled.

General, Karone I guess? he crinkled his nose because that seemed a far more reasonable name, plus she had a …spear, one he was starting to believe was real . She felt dangerous,… she felt, heavy.


“… do I still have to give you the food tonight?”

He stood blinking at her for a long moment, like maybe, just maybe this odd corner of ‘can’t actually be happening - when did I get a concussion’ might burst like a soap bubble and he might get snap back to reality.

It didn’t work.

“Maybe you shouldn’t just... recruit people because you want their dinner?!” He snapped all the same.
Not that he had any idea how to ditch a shitty names alter ego, but really.

He huffed out a breath and jammed the stupid little blunt hook into his belts again.

“I can handle a damn knife, I don’t ... what am I gonna do? Threaten to hook them an Afghan? “

He rubbed a hand over his face and tried to think about ‘being himself’. It took a frustrating moment because that was not, by a long shot something that he did a lot of. Thankfully he had a few choice opinions about himself that he latched on to and after a moment his clothing turned ... normal again. He swore more all the same and snatched up the precious leftovers.

“FINE, McDonalds - because this is some crazy s**t ... this is, this isn’t even close to the damn news. He started stomp-marching to his car again because they were absolutely not sitting in the late night lobby of a Micky D’s to talk about anime costume transformation.

“At least in the damn cartoons it’s some kinda cute critter who pulls this stuff. Please tell me now I don’t have to deal with a chatty bubble eyed companion that no one else seems to question?!”