Rosalyn Rocha (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
queencrimson) wrote2015-05-19 01:09 pm
queencrimson) wrote2015-05-19 01:09 pm
(no subject)
Memory: TrivNeg; Twenty-seven High Quality Tarantulas
Regained: Day 146, Lilith+Waldemar
Summary: What do you even do with nearly 30 of the finest arachnids?
There were days, Rosalyn reflected, that she was not nearly drunk enough. Today, she had opened her mailbox to a very large bag of tarantulas, who were not any more pleased with their situation than she had been. After she'd finished an entire bottle of rum, she'd taken the bag to their sender, a certain small mage who was, from the looks of it, completely smashed.
"Serra, just what is this?" She held out the back in front of the moonkeeper, and shook it a bit so the poor spiders would hiss more.
"That," Serra proclaimed, with as much dignity as a cat who could no longer stand up straight could manage. "Is twenty-seven high quality tarantulas."
Rosalyn felt the need for more booze coming on.
"Why did you send me twenty-seven tara--"
"High-quality!"
"...Alright. Twenty-seven of what I assume are the finest quality tarantulas?" Serra seemed to stop, and consider this, and then produced another bottle of wine.
" 'Cause it was funny." Ros stared at her, scowled, and snatched the wine...to drink herself.
"So now what do we do with them?" Another long moment of silence.
"Send them to somebody else?"
---
Her hangover was the stuff of legends. Rosalyn had planned to spend the day in her quarters and wishing for death, which was ruined by someone walking in and yanking the curtains wide open, following it up with a loud and excessively cheerful 'Good morning!"
"...Valens, I swear to the Twelve I will kill you as soon as I can move."
"Promises, promises." He promptly walked over and snatched away the blankets she'd been trying to hide from the light in. She hissed, and started to lunge for it, but only got as far as sitting upright before the world spun at a truly worrying angle.
"So, I've a question for you, Rosie." He did, mercifully, hand her a glass of water before leaning a bit too close into her personal space. His eyes were quite a lovely shade of gold, she noted blearily.
"How'd you get the tarantulas into the box?"
Her only answer was to groan, and flop back onto the bed.
Notes:
-Twenty-seven high quality tarantulas.
-Due to my botanist training, I actually know what makes a tarantula high quality.
-There is not enough booze in the world.
-I have no idea what I actually did with those spiders.
Regained: Day 146, Lilith+Waldemar
Summary: What do you even do with nearly 30 of the finest arachnids?
There were days, Rosalyn reflected, that she was not nearly drunk enough. Today, she had opened her mailbox to a very large bag of tarantulas, who were not any more pleased with their situation than she had been. After she'd finished an entire bottle of rum, she'd taken the bag to their sender, a certain small mage who was, from the looks of it, completely smashed.
"Serra, just what is this?" She held out the back in front of the moonkeeper, and shook it a bit so the poor spiders would hiss more.
"That," Serra proclaimed, with as much dignity as a cat who could no longer stand up straight could manage. "Is twenty-seven high quality tarantulas."
Rosalyn felt the need for more booze coming on.
"Why did you send me twenty-seven tara--"
"High-quality!"
"...Alright. Twenty-seven of what I assume are the finest quality tarantulas?" Serra seemed to stop, and consider this, and then produced another bottle of wine.
" 'Cause it was funny." Ros stared at her, scowled, and snatched the wine...to drink herself.
"So now what do we do with them?" Another long moment of silence.
"Send them to somebody else?"
---
Her hangover was the stuff of legends. Rosalyn had planned to spend the day in her quarters and wishing for death, which was ruined by someone walking in and yanking the curtains wide open, following it up with a loud and excessively cheerful 'Good morning!"
"...Valens, I swear to the Twelve I will kill you as soon as I can move."
"Promises, promises." He promptly walked over and snatched away the blankets she'd been trying to hide from the light in. She hissed, and started to lunge for it, but only got as far as sitting upright before the world spun at a truly worrying angle.
"So, I've a question for you, Rosie." He did, mercifully, hand her a glass of water before leaning a bit too close into her personal space. His eyes were quite a lovely shade of gold, she noted blearily.
"How'd you get the tarantulas into the box?"
Her only answer was to groan, and flop back onto the bed.
Notes:
-Twenty-seven high quality tarantulas.
-Due to my botanist training, I actually know what makes a tarantula high quality.
-There is not enough booze in the world.
-I have no idea what I actually did with those spiders.