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Post by 0 on Oct 30, 2017 23:27:28 GMT
Oshit.
The number drifted on for a few split seconds longer before it recognized the strange sound it was hearing. Tendrils of smoke wafted across the net before its gaze was drawn upwards, watching the display of squids falling towards the cavern's roof.
"Oh, no!" said the number, voice sounding not all that concerned. "Not my babies!"
It started to pull the net together, before deciding it wasn't worth the effort trying to fix. The number let the whole thing go, and watched as many a squid wriggled, writhed, and then floated off into not-quite-oblivion.
The cloud of smoke waggled a finger. "Fly free, sweet squids." One of them squirted water through the cloud, which, taking into account the ambiguity of all things considered, might as well have been the number's face.
What an inkblot.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Nov 3, 2017 18:54:31 GMT
The cash register watched as the squids fell upwards, flopping and wiggling as tiny black blots against the ceiling above which now looked like a black and white checkerboard. The color of the distant squares changed to their opposites when squids made contact, leaving an irregular pattern on part of the surface above.
Bye bye squids.
When attention went back to the more immediate surroundings, the trees had also changed. A forest of mushroom-umbrellas with the bulbs hanging thick from the insides of multi-colored caps instead of exposed on bare arms. The cash register didn't find that odd in the slightest. It returned to the old pace weaving out among the regularly spaced light trees at a steady clip.
Until. Plop.
A soggy drop of black ink from the ceiling fell right onto the cash register's front. Squids fall up but ink doesn't? Uh-oh.
The sea of voices gradually transformed into the song of rain.
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Post by 0 on Nov 3, 2017 20:10:07 GMT
The number danced a little jig. Free at last, free at last!
The world changed, umbrellas sprouting from the trees like mushrooms, shielding the bulbs behind their colored caps. Plop. Black ink splashed upon the register, which had continued on while the number remained staring at their surroundings.
The smoky entity snorted back a bit of laughter. And then the cavern was full of ink, raining down on their heads.
Boy, were the squids pissed at them, or did the ceiling just feel like melting? Hard to tell, what with the trees seeming to have known what was coming.
The shadowthing danced a little longer, swaying and swerving around the trees to catch up with the object. Voices to inky rain, how beautiful!
It began to hum, a quiet, monotone tune that fell in line with the sound of the shower. The number's smoky figure began to bloat and show an oily array of colors, purposefully absorbing the ink into its chosen body, which slowly began to transform into that of a big black frog made of the dark liquid substance.
In that desert town it never rained, and finally being able to take part in such a phenomenon was quite the source of enjoyment, indeed! It gave the occasional melodious croak, hopping to stay with the cash register.
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Administrator
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Nov 4, 2017 19:33:58 GMT
The cash register slipped underneath an umbrella light tree not nearly as fond of the wet inky substance as its companion. The rain kept up its downpour, puddling up in the shallow valleys of the floor, sneaking up underneath the edges of the umbrella, creeping up near the cash register's feet.
But it was certainly glad that the number seemed to be enjoying this.
The cash register marched in place under the light of the umbrella light tree, content to wait.
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Post by 0 on Nov 4, 2017 20:01:48 GMT
The number's companion didn't seem so keen on the downpour. It caught a sight of the object just as it slipped underneath an umbrellalightbulbtree, marching in place while the ink fell in clatters around it.
Still it continued to dance and hop and ribbit and sway, but after a while longer it finally stole undercover as well, even if it only intended to do so momentarily. A small circle of light was cast by the light bulb, a shadowed line of branch curving over the cash register. The curtain of ink glittered in the glow, a collage of flowing colors that the oily black frog tried to equal across its slick skin.
It was big enough by then that it could well easily be crowding the space underneath the umbrella, but if its bulk was forcing the cash register closer to the raindrops, then it didn't seem to be taking any notice, dark eyes focused instead on their surroundings.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Nov 7, 2017 16:15:45 GMT
The cash register didn't mind being a little bit crowded. it was no bigger than a cash register from reality would have been after all. The bloated frog-number however took up quite a bit of space under the umbrella, making the amount of room under the many glowing bulbs seem quite snug. Slowly the cash register was inched away from the tree's protection. Step by step it slid towards the relentless sheets of rain.
Then the rain actually touched it.
The cubic register jumped dramatically, tumbling out into the rain. As soon as it crossed through that sheet of liquid, it vanished completely.
The rain shut out just about every other sound so it seemed like there was nothing on the other side of the downpour.
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Post by 0 on Nov 7, 2017 18:14:21 GMT
The frog's bubbling eyes were drawn to the display of the cash register jumping high into the air, flipping over itself into the rain. It croaked a giggle, which was cut short when the object wholly vanished behind the curtain.
There was a moment of silence, then a moment of peering around, and finally a moment of poking through the sheet of ink. Slowly it drew itself forward, throat bulging, searching for the object among the drenching downpour.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Nov 7, 2017 20:09:04 GMT
The rain had become like a thick bead curtain, still moving still pouring with its sheet of sound.
The other side was devoid of rain, gloomy, and foggy with a diffuse half-light. It vaguely looked like a forest, but the trees were mere shadows against brighter shadows, spanning off into the seemingly infinite nowhere.
To look behind and there were no umbrellalighttrees, just a lonely old busstop sign by an overgrown and very vague road.
As for the cash register, Its pings could be occasionally heard, lonely in the shadows. It was having a very hard time finding its way around in this vague world. Far too quickly shapes blurred and slipped out of sight. It looked around and looked around, but honestly couldn't see the number anywhere even though it had not yet wandered very far.
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Post by 0 on Nov 7, 2017 20:37:09 GMT
Through the sheet; beads of ink drifted away, and the sound of showers faded to silence. The rain gone. Looking around at this new gloomy setting, the number lost its frog form, draining the ink it had gathered. A pool was left underneath as it returned to a drifting amoeba cloud of shadow and smoke.
Shadows upon shadows, a wispy overgrown road through the forest. This place seemed mighty familiar, even had an old sign for a bus stop. Wonder if the bus still came through, or if there was ever a bus to begin with.
The number looked around, no cash register in sight. But there was the occasional ping, a grown familiarity.
Slowly it began to drift along the road, in circles, trying to pinpoint the sound, casually filtering into the shadowtrees that edged the broken curb. --Or, well, trying to anyways.
The shadows and trees themselves had a mind of their own, all the shapes slipping out of sight, out of touch. Even the road seemed shifty, though subtly more so; the number was sure it was changing course just as well, but only when it wasn't looking directly at it.
It tried not to leave the side of the bus sign, seeing as how it seemed the only distinct landmark, but if the echoing ping ran elsewhere...well, then it had no choice but to venture forth.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Nov 9, 2017 3:37:40 GMT
Getting lost here would have been easy. It was nigh impossible to tell one tree for another, or to differentiate between other structures in the mist, if there even were any hidden out of sight. The more anyone looked around through there, the more frequently began to appear, flickers of movement at the corners of vision. The dark shapes were animate though whether animal, or object or some completely different denizen of surreality or mere conjuncture it was certainly unclear.
Down the road suddenly there was a sharp sound, the register's ping, unusually loud compared to the other sounds it had made.
left, or was it coming from the right?
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Post by 0 on Nov 9, 2017 5:00:01 GMT
Well, this was difficult. And frustrating.
The number swirled in place, uncertain. Shapes flickered in and out of view, amorphous, shifting, teasing.
It was relatively still until a sharp ping sounded, and the cloud spiraled around, heading forward, then pausing. The ping echoed around it, the direction...which direction? Left? Right? Both? Neither?
Aha...the number would not be fooled--it would go straight! NO--backwards!
Again it was reduced to relative stillness, uncertain of where to go. Up? Down? Diagonal? Sideways? Eighthways?
The cloud sunk low, tapping at the road's worn asphalt, concrete...whatever it was. Flattening itself, slowly it thinned as well, spreading itself across the road in search of something substantial, keeping at least one tendril close to the sign.
The number called out, loud as it could: "Hey, BUDDY!"
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Nov 11, 2017 15:35:37 GMT
Silence. No answer.
Not that the cash register didn't try to answer. It tried to ping and ping, and clack its keys and wave its arm, and it could hear itself quite fine. The sound just wasn't traveling far enough.
But the search on the road eventually produced an odd lump in the shadows.
It was about cash register shaped and sized.
It was a cash register.
But it was not the cash register.
It was a rusty beaten up husk practically embedded into the road. Shadowy ferns grew from the earth which had gathered in the technological corpse slowly uncurling.
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Post by 0 on Nov 12, 2017 1:02:19 GMT
There was a quiet hiss. It came from the number.
Other than that the response was silence. Even the echo (was there one?) sounded off.
The occasional distant ping remained.
All at once the number drew its shadow back, then popped itself forward. It had found something at last.
Rusted, halfway buried by the road, ferns as black as the shadowtrees grown around it. The husk of an old cash register.
Well where were the squares? It couldn't be sir seaman squares...could it?
The cloud swarmed over the object, even pouring into the cracks as it began to scan the thing for clues, softly mumbling in question, "Oi, Squares?"
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Nov 19, 2017 1:12:33 GMT
The husk of the cash register was a dead object. It didn't twitch, nor ping, nor was there any sound any more.
Not even an echo.
Seemed like 0 had ended up alone.
When wandering surreality, there was always a chance of loosing track of a person, and never finding them again.
besides, the realm had a mind of its own.
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Post by 0 on Nov 19, 2017 1:41:40 GMT
Crimeycriminycrud.
Removing itself from the empty object, the cloud flipped over itself at the ensuing silence, waiting. Nothing.
Alone again. This was depressurizing.
The number sighed, and after a moment more of staring at the dead metal, continued along the road, particles diffusing until it vanished into the fog.
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