shatterverse | (no subject)

Current Mood: DX
Current Location: bat country, TX

Entry tags:

chrome dokuro,
snow

(no subject)

When you come from a world where shooting yourself in the head is a legitimately useful mode of transportation, appearing in a new location after getting hit by a rocket is actually less disorienting than it has any reason to be.

That said, Chrome Dokuro has never, in her life, found herself staring down a giant bat as startled by her presence as she is by its existence.

Two voices, one human, one very much not, go "EEEEEEEEEEEEE" in unison, and both of them take off in opposite directions on instinct. The human end of this chorus runs right out the end of the cave she wound up in and right off the edge of the hill it was built into, not-very-merrily tumbling end over end aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall the way to the bottom.

If Chrome were conscious after this, she'd say "ow".

Sadly, Chrome is ... not.

Ooops.

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... it's possible, if they did, that Snow would win.

So about that city.

It's visible now!

Hooray?

Chrome is pleased with this development! City means phones! Phones mean communication! Communication means letting Mukuro-sama know what happened!

... yeah, this is going to end well when they finally reach said city, isn't it.

"Do you know what city that is up ahead?" she asks. "If you do, you can write it in ice. The name."

Snow makes a face that is a combination of shyness with bzuh, and shakes her head.

(Ice spirits don't write. Some of them can read, but it is considered Not Their Thing.)

Well, it was worth a try.

Chrome lapses into silence, for lack of any other helpful questions to ask.

What city is that up ahead, anyway?

It's...

...it's...

...hell if I know, I've never been to Texas.

It's totally San Antonio.

No, really, it says so. Right there, on the map.

... sorry, San Antonio. Your sacrifice will not be in vain. ;_;

Eh. It's not in Kansas, so we already knew it was doomed!

Meanwhile, Snow looks triumphant. SEE? THERE SHOULD BE PHONES THERE. And somewhere the power still works, because there is a working freezer or two nearby.

Aaaaand about half an hour after that, they hit the city limits and the peculiarly Texan variant of suburban sprawl, which ... on the face of things looks identical to suburban sprawl everywhere else, until you realize that most images of suburbia don't include mesquite trees or random country clubs in the middle of housing complexes.

Or Whataburgers in close proximity.

One of said Whataburgers is apparently attempting some sad approximation of life, which is where the working freezers are coming from. Chrome doesn't understand English very well - about as well as she understands Italian - but she can read the name okay.

Chrome keeps forgetting she can get hungry. "There might be a phone in that building," she ventures, hesitantly.

Her stomach gurgles with impatience, and her cheeks pinken a little.

Snow shakes her head and scoops nothing out of the air towards her mouth, miming food. More important!

"... there might be food in there too," Chrome agrees, looking away slightly.

So through the door they go, into what is probably the most pristine environment they will find anywhere in Texas right now, a restaurant almost untouched by the decay surrounding it.

It's ... also very empty.

At least until a man comes rushing around from the back, summoned by the sound of the door's bell, shotgun in hand.

Chrome reaches for her trident, sets her stance; the man blinks and lowers his gun.

"Are you ... real people?" he asks, disbelief quaking in his voice.

Chrome looks at Snow, baffled, then back at the man. "Yes?"

Slowly, the man sets the shotgun against the counter, relocks the safety. "Then do you - want anything to eat?"

Chrome blinks, then looks at Snow again.

(Truthfully, nothing in this exchange baffles her so much as this: that someone who is not Mukuro or the Boss is asking her whether she should be fed.)

Snow nods emphatically. YIS FOOD PLS.

Well, there's no arguing with that face.

Chrome holds up two fingers. "Ah ... two large burgers? Please?"

... the English, it is not strong with her today.

"Wh-what do you want on them?" the man asks. Apparently he doesn't really need the trademarked term for the item. (Would you care about specific burger names after spending this long tending the only working Whataburger in San Antonio? Would you really?)

Uh. Chrome blinks, looking blankly at Snow again, then, turns back. "Everything?"

Enthusiastic nod.

The man nods, then disappears into the kitchen just behind the counter. (In his bafflement, he completely forgets to ask them to take a number; not, truthfully, that they would need one.)

Chrome decides to busy herself with staring out the window while they wait. It's a nice window. It's not even broken. (Much.)

After a minute or two of waiting, the man brings out two wrapped burgers and puts them on a tray, then sets a cup beside each one. "On the h-house," he says, and pulls out a towel to wipe his hands on. "I apologize for any accidental bat flavoring."

Chrome makes a face. "That is a bad joke," she says, but takes the burgers anyway. When she picks up the tray, the man wipes it down with his towel.

"It's not a joke," he says.

Chrome makes another face.

...Bat... flavouring?

Okay, Snow is just gonna quietly take her burger.

Eating tiem is nao.

This means Chrome once again doesn't have much to say, but at least this time she has a better excuse - her mouth is full.

Luckily, they have company - the only remaining employee of the only remaining Whataburger in San Antonio. And he's willing to pick up the slack for both of them - well, he's willing to try.

"So, uh, where're y'all from?" he asks, as casually as possible.

Chrome does not know this 'y'all' of which he speaks, but she can guess at the context. "Japan," she says, simply, before returning to her burger. "I was born there."

Om nom nom Snow is mute and has food in her mouth om nom.

"She cannot talk," Chrome supplies, helpfully, after the silence stretches past a whole two minutes.

"... Oh."

"Yes." Chrome is the essence of helpful conversation, she truly is. "These are good burgers. Thank you."

"You're ... welcome. What are you going to do now?"

A glance is spared for Snow, then Chrome looks at the man with some measure of consideration. "I am going to find a phone," she says, "and I am going to call someone. I will know what I will do next after that. Do you have a working phone?"

The man looks aside, resting his hands on the counter. "Yes," he says. "Technically. All the land lines went down ... a while ago. You can call all you want, but nobody will hear you. The signal doesn't go anywhere."

When the world ends, apparently you can stop the signal.

Snow shrugs guiltily.

Hey, Chrome wanted phones. There are phones! She delivered!

Chrome ... does not react for several long moments, her hand stilled where it holds the burger.

She finishes eating. She folds up the wrapper. She swallows. She throws the wrapper away.

Her hand tightens around the top of the trash can to keep herself standing up.

"Mukuro-sama will find me," she says, slowly. "I know he will."

She just has to wait now. Just. Has to wait. That's not so hard. She can wait.

"Is there any way to call somewhere else from here?"

The man shakes his head. "I'm sorry."

Chrome's face tightens. "It is not your fault," she says. "Thank you for your kindness."

Her back straightens and her fist tightens reassuringly around the weight of her trident's handle. "I think I am going to find a place to sleep." she says. "Goodbye. Thank you."

She doesn't hesitate as she walks out the door.

When she goes, Snow doesn't follow.

There's ice in other places, and they don't have awkwardness.

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