❝ Rose Lalonde ✷ tentacleTherapist ❞ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gamefaqs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mallowhallow2013-03-04 05:42 pm
gamefaqs) wrote in mallowhallow2013-03-04 05:42 pm
Entry tags:
( text ☀ video )
[So, it's less of a text message and more of a scrawling, for now. Neat and cursive and slightly angled and full of small loops. Such are the downfalls of having to use a chalkboard to communicate. At least she's got a good enough piece of chalk to use.]
Hello, my fellow residents of Mallow Hallow. Forgive me for the sudden interruption.
Allow me to introduce you to a new acquaintance of mine.
[And then a video feed opens, like clockwork. There's nothing quite as succinct as a punctual transition. On screen is a clear shot of Rose's lap, and her bare forearms beneath the draping orange cloth of her robes. Resting against her elbows -- and her crossed knees, and her chest, and her stomach, and everything in between -- is a particular sort of black and purple and green and god-knows-what octopus-looking creature, albeit noticeably smaller.]
This is Herald Bonaparte the II [or, second]. I found him not too long ago, lost amongst the bustling crowds of Astralfield. He appears to be quite fond of me.
[She'd probably be fond of any stranger who plucked her up out of the streets if she were an alien-Eldritch abomination, too.]
Despite whatever fondness I may feel in return, his presence is key for more than just exciting the secret parts of me which find scaled-down recreations of insatiable monsters endearing. As some of you may have noticed, this particular district has something of a habit of entertaining the unusual. This, for instance, is something that I believe to be the work of whatever innocuous powers may hold jurisdiction over our beloved home, though the "how" and "why" elude me.
Creatures resembling those lurking within the confines of one's own mind... perhaps even people, or places, conjured before us without so much as a word of warning; has anyone else found something similar occurring around them? It may be worth looking into.
Hello, my fellow residents of Mallow Hallow. Forgive me for the sudden interruption.
Allow me to introduce you to a new acquaintance of mine.
[And then a video feed opens, like clockwork. There's nothing quite as succinct as a punctual transition. On screen is a clear shot of Rose's lap, and her bare forearms beneath the draping orange cloth of her robes. Resting against her elbows -- and her crossed knees, and her chest, and her stomach, and everything in between -- is a particular sort of black and purple and green and god-knows-what octopus-looking creature, albeit noticeably smaller.]
This is Herald Bonaparte the II [or, second]. I found him not too long ago, lost amongst the bustling crowds of Astralfield. He appears to be quite fond of me.
[She'd probably be fond of any stranger who plucked her up out of the streets if she were an alien-Eldritch abomination, too.]
Despite whatever fondness I may feel in return, his presence is key for more than just exciting the secret parts of me which find scaled-down recreations of insatiable monsters endearing. As some of you may have noticed, this particular district has something of a habit of entertaining the unusual. This, for instance, is something that I believe to be the work of whatever innocuous powers may hold jurisdiction over our beloved home, though the "how" and "why" elude me.
Creatures resembling those lurking within the confines of one's own mind... perhaps even people, or places, conjured before us without so much as a word of warning; has anyone else found something similar occurring around them? It may be worth looking into.
no subject
[Best not to ask for the story on the shackles, Rose; it's a self-centred, petulant pity party and much less interesting than the rice ball.
...Well, depending on tastes in literature, it could be interesting. Probably. Maybe?
Kanbe's expression shifts from bemused to relieved rather quickly once he's allowed to let up on the 'young lady's and formality, and even moreso when he doesn't have to look too closely at the underside of Herald's tentacles and...whatnot.
That quickly changes to comically exaggerated
and completely genuinehorror at the suggestion of trying to eat the flailing riceball, though. What a beautiful sight!]Wait, huh? I'm not eating it while it's still alive, and I don't know if you can kill somethin' that's already cooked--
Why would you say that? What if it's got a clan or something and I go eatin' it and leaving a bunch of little riceballs leaderless?