Logs:Peak Attractiveness

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Cast

Leta Abbott, Little Fox, Tanya and Liezel Richardson

Setting

The Firebirds Penthouse

Log

Music plays through the penthouse.

It's gentle, a strumming guitar primarily, a humming voice now and then, and the intermittent plink of piano keys used as tonal percussion. Now and then a brief drag of ascending notes on a harp, a softly vocalizing choir. Slowly being pieced together, made to be just how Liezel wants it as she toys with the notes on paper, playing the music aloud rather than in her head.

Liezel must have been struggling sleeping a little, because she's not dressed for being out. She's wearing a long tee and sitting crosslegged in the center of the living room couch, tee draped down like a skirt while she focuses on her work.

Sleepy-faced, Fox wanders out to the living room, part of the 'long t-shirt club' as she yawns wildly, showing a big maw full of sharp little vulpine teeth. 'Long t-shirt' is sort of... well. She's tiny, so Vasha's t-shirts are long shirts. She's got on a black t-shirt with the words "NEVER FEAR, THE UKRANIAN IS HERE" written across the front in white block print and a blue and yellow line underneath the bottom of the text. She pap pap paps into the kitchen and gets herself a bottle of banana honey almond butter yogurt drink, cracks it open, and wanders into the living room, humming along with the song.

There's a third member of the Long Shirt Bare Legs club tonight, trotting out into the kitchen in a simple scoop-neck, marbled with pastel blues and pinks. It covers one shoulder, and the rest of her from there to mid-thigh. "I hear a Lieeeezel," she trills out, before realizing Fox has already trotted out ahead of her, startling slightly. "I did not hear a Fox. Hi, teach. We all wearing the uniform?"

Liezel smiles to herself when she gets a bit of audience participation, setting the notebook and pencil down but letting the song wander quietly through the loops she's given it. "Hello, Fox. Hello, Tanya. I'm happy to see you two. And it seems so, though I suspect more out of mutual appreciation of comfort than conformity. Of all the things we are... that, I do not think. I hope I did not wake you?"

"Mmmph," agrees Fox, sitting down next to Liezel and drinking some of her yogurty drink. "I just steal Vasha's shirts all the time," she mumbles, yawning again and grabbing a blanket to fling over herself. "No, I woke up. I had a weird dream."

Tanya traipses on over to the couch to plop herself down on the other side of Liezel. "This is the ideal outfit. You may not like it, but this is what peak performance looks like," she intones with a grin. "Maybe if someone tried running a business where everyone dressed like this, productivity would soar." Fox's words get a sympathetic look of concern. "Just a dream? Or more fate and future stuff...?"

"I feel like the rate of workplace relationships would make the outfits a distraction," Liezel murmurs, settling back into the couch, flanked by lovely people. "I am sorry you had a strange dream. Is it the sort of strange we should ask about? Or distract you from?"

"If you think that workplace relationships don't happen because people have to wear pants," Fox mumbles with a little laugh, "I mean." She shrugs, there, and leans her head back against the back of the couch. "Oh, I don't know if there's anything like... important about it. It was just really weird. I haven't had a job in like... a long time." A little wave of their hand.

Tanya titters a bit at Fox's comment, but pats Liezel on the shoulder. "The rate of unwelcome attention is what keeps a lot of us from just being naked, I think. That and frying pans. But this is the perfect place to wear a t-shirt and n...little else." She peers around Liezel, bumping her forehead against her briefly to stare at Fox on her other side curiously. "A jooooob?"

Liezel peers with Tanya towards Fox, curious, even as she explains. "No, the opposite. They happen despite pants. Without them, it seems likely to be more problematic." Liezel pats Fox's knee gently, trying to be soothing. "Your dream was about a job? A literal one, I assume?" Because she is strongly confident that naughty metaphorical jobs are not something Fox lacks.

Big yawn, more drink. "Yeah, like a job-job. I haven't had a job-job since I Awakened, what with not legally existing properly and also the teeth and stuff. But I had a dream where I was like... late to work, and trying to get home so I could take a shower and change but my car broke down and the buses weren't working and... I ended up hitchhiking most of the way home... " Fox's voice trails off. "Anyway."

Leta has, lately, been something of a mess. Too much responsibility at work. Too many things to consider. Plus, of course, even a master of Mind may sometimes have bad mental health days.

"I hate those dreams," Leta mentions offhandedly as she moves through the living room. She's currently draped in a big, multi-colored quilt that she's decided to wear like a cloak, and her hair is frizzy and wild. "I haven't been in school in like twenty years, and sometimes I still wake up in a cold sweat feeling like I've missed first period Economics with Mr. Gerhardstein."

The Mastigos glides across the floor and into the kitchen to procure a box of cheezits, and a monster energy drink before stopping in the doorway.

"Hello. I exist."

Tanya nods at Fox, half-flopped against Liezel in order to peer in a silly fashion. "Anxiety dream. One of the easier ones to make sense of. You've got a lot to be anxious about right now, Teacher." She's quiet a moment, eyes closing partly in consideration. "Did something happen after the hitchhiking?" She gently prompts...but doesn't press it. And in the next moment, Leta's arrival provides a perfect distraction should Fox not feel comfortable sharing.

"Leta!" the young Mastigos squeals. "Hello! I'm so glad you exist! Did you come to join our pantsless t-shirt cult?"

"Oh. That's awful. Layered stress. Late but must become more late to become appropriate to be at work and stacking inconvenience with future repairs... it sounds awful. I am glad it was just a dream," Liezel murmurs. She smiles as Leta wanders out, lifting a hand to wave. There's music playing, though from where is an utter mystery (the answer is nowhere). "Hello, Leta. I am happy to see you existing."

Big yawn. "Oh, I woke up after the crunchy Phish fan women who were in the car kept asking me to come to a concert with them when they said they had a huge setup with a bunch of beds at the concert and then after I got out of the car I realized they were inviting me to an orgy actually." Fox stretches, and laughs a little bit at what Tanya says. "Yeah, I know I have plenty of reasons to be stressed out."

And Leta! Fox pushes up to a sitting position, sets aside her drink, and stretches out her short arms. "Smooches please."

With the blanket wrapped around her entire body and only her head poking out, Leta looks quite like a giant owl. Especially when she tilts her head, offering a Spock-like quirk of her brow.

"You should have gone to the orgy with the Phish fans," she offers matter-of-factly -- careful to keep herself covered while leaning over to give Fox a smooch. "... but to answer your question, Young Padawan: No. I have ascended beyond the need for flesh, or clothing. The plane of t-shirts and underwear holds no purchase on my soul, and I only wear this quilt to protect you all from my radiance."

Yeah. She might be high.

Tanya raises a hand to point when Leta offers their judgement. "She's right. She is a prophet." And then she sticks out her tongue at Leta. "I don't think either Fox or Liezel fear your radiance at all, so it must be my virgin eyes you're attempting to protect," she offers back. Then she pauses, sniffing at the air. "Is that weed? My vape's out..."

"I am surprised you didn't go to the orgy, personally. Dream orgy sounds like the sort of experience a Fox might enjoy."

"I fear a great many things. Radiance, nudity, and metaphors are no longer among them." Liezel does pause for a moment. "... what is the Supernal version of a metaphor? Are illusions Supernal metaphors?"

"I should have gone to the dream orgy, and the fact that I didn't go to the dream orgy is probably a massive indicator of my stress levels," sighs Fox sadly. And then she sticks out her tongue at Tanya, adding, "you can just call me Fox, you don't have to call me Teacher. But if you really want to have a title for me, just... call me Rav Fox, I guess. At least that's culturally correct." One of her hands sneaks under Leta's blanket and touches her butt. "You are very high and so adorable," she laughs softly.

"... I guess they might be, Elizabeth. I guess they might be."

"Many a fearless mind has been driven over the brink when confronted with the unknowable, unquantifiable radiance beneath this shadowed cloak. Fear is not the mindkiller, I am the mindkiller. I am the voice from beyond that scratches at the fabric of the universe, threatening to claw its way into-EEEEP."

Leta's trance-like deadpan is interrupted as she practically jumps out of her skin when Fox grabs her butt, dropping the box of cheez-its.

"... but as a Phish phan, I can say that the orgy would've been stellar."

Tanya grins with delight at the antics and Leta's pronouncements. "I'll have to prepare myself for such terrors in time. When I'm older and stronger," she murmurs. "And I was calling you teacher because I wanted to. But I do believe in calling people what they prefer, so Rav Fox it shall be." Something crosses her face a moment, and she smiles, trailing off before saying something else.

Her head whips around to Leta then, not wanting to ignore her comment either. "Comparative language feels like it would be... the equations rather than the symbols. It's the connection between symbols. Fire produces light and heat, destroys and converts its fuel, and reminds us of passions. Outright illusions, though...deception's of the Abyss, I guess. Unless we want to argue about the mechanics of lying for truth."

"I choose to believe that sentence ends in "threatening to claw its way into your bed and snack cabinets," Liezel offers simply, expending a touch of Potentia to ensure she doesn't muddy the waters, so to speak, when she coaxes the cheezits to land upright and gently. "I am not sure I agree. Metaphor is using one word to describe a thing which is not that word. Presenting a true thing with an untrue appearance but with no intent to deceive. Indeed, metaphor usually serves to add clarity, not obscure it. So Supernal metaphor could be, say... causing an irradiated area to be marked by a visually noxious cloud. Is it actually a gaseous danger? No, but it illustrates the danger of entering easily."

Fox snickers her amusement when Leta goes 'eeep' and she makes this little 'heh heh heh' noise that's sort of like a chuckle but also a little like a fox chuffing. Butt squeeze, and she leans her head against Leta's hip and absently (and not hard at all) tugs on the blanket with her teeth. It's all silly and playful. Life has been stressful, sometimes you just have to be silly now and again.

She bonks her head on Leta's hip and says, "Fox or Rav Fox is fine." She ignores all the conversation about metaphor right now. Now is when Fox is silly.

Leta absent-mindedly scritches Fox's hair with one hand, and the sound of a pressurized can of monster being cracked open can be heard from beneath the draped quilt-cloak.

"I hate to say it, but this conversation is beyond the scope of my abilities at this moment. My head is filled with cotton balls, and I have the munchies." Leta gives Fox a few more moments of silly before she stoops to procure the Cheez-its.

"... that said if you'll all excuse me, I must abscond to my chambers, so that I may lounge naked in bed with a bong and a box of cheez-its. Which, might I add, is apparently peak attractiveness. Or perhaps physical performance."

Leta offers a shrug, and sneaks off with her snacks.

Tanya sits against Liezel as Fox and Leta paw at each other and are silly. "Oh, I entirely agree. I mean, if--nuuuu!" Tanya whines as Leta trundles off, melodramatically holding her arms off and then flopping face first off the couch onto the floor with an "oof". "I chased her away with my big scary brain words," she says with a huff. "I need to get stoned myself so I stop braining so hard."

Liezel chews quietly at the inside of her lip and lets the conversation fade, picking up her notebook and prodding at the notes a little, coaxing them into more aesthetically pleasing arrangements.