The Best Thing About Not Being Home is Missing You

[preuxchevalier]

There are people back home that your character hates. Or maybe they love them, but they're terrible people/influences. Here's your chance to talk or play out that special someone turning up in the Meadous. Are they so far out of their element that they're now defanged tigers? Do they lead right in with their wicked ways? What is your character's CR even going to think when they meet this person?
 

Post with your own character or the person they most/least want to see again who's a bad thing for them. Feel free to play out encounters in the snow between this character and your regular character's CR, or talk it out with if you're not sure you've got the voice down.
 

Fun for all ages! And by fun, we mean misery!

Comments

[amourtician]

"Ah ... I'm not a woman," Jay says, hesitantly. He's eyeing Aunt Agatha with something like fear now, because the name "Lady Worpleston" is awfully familiar and he's fairly sure she's bad news. "And no, we do not have a telephone. You're not ... you're not where you used to be. And here, they haven't invented telephones."

[psycheslantern]

"Jay? Who's at the door?" The voice, speaking a language that while, completely comprehensible thanks to the Meadous' translation effect, sails right past "foreign" into "alien," can be heard before its source comes into view. When she does round the corner and come down the last flight of stairs, its owner is rather underdressed by pretty much literally anyone's standards: denim trousers that are pretty near skin-tight and sit low enough to expose a bit of angular hip, and a loose sleeveless shirt that's threadbare enough to make it clear that she's not wearing anything under it.

Also her skin is grey, and her black hair is cropped close to her skull in a way that only emphasizes the thick orange horns that stand out from her head. The light glints off the various bits of steel jewelry set in her ears and nose, as the troll girl tilts her head a little to one side, openly studying the older woman. She looks curious, but not particularly impressed.

[nephewcrusher]

"Monster!" Agatha's eyes bulged and she looked for a moment, not unlike a landed haddock. She latches onto Zimin's arm and drags her - him? - out into the snow, attempting to slam the door after. She doesn't like the creature, but even Agatha had some instinct to protect... never mind that this one is her lesser and nearly intolerable. Most people are. She still has no desire to see him dead at the hands of some demon.

[amourtician]

Jay is still half-asleep and therefore incapable of resisting Aunt Agatha the least bit effectually. He tries to extricate himself from her grasp, but only manages to feebly push against her shoulder.

"Let go of me," he hisses. "That is not a monster and I'll thank you, darling, to not manhandle me!"

[psycheslantern]

Well. It's not every day that Ammond gets her own door slammed in her face. She blinks at the suddenly closed door for a brief moment, before sighing, crossing her arms, and pulling it open again with her telekinesis. This does not seem like the time for humoring someone else's delicate "but you aren't using your hands" sentiments, after all.

"You don't have to be rude about it," she informs the newcomer tartly, stepping out after her and - equally hands-free - closing the door behind herself.

[nephewcrusher]

Agatha does let got of Zimin, half out of irritation, and half because the door has flown open and the inhuman spawn of hell has stepped out after them. And closed the door behind itself.

She makes the sign of the cross. "What are you, foul creature? You will not have my soul!"

[amourtician]

Jay, completely blindsided by this, bursts out laughing, very shrilly. He leans on Aunt Agatha for support after about a minute. His stomach hurts and he's out of breath.

"She's not interested in your soul, darling," he says and then adds, "even if you, ah. Had one."

[psycheslantern]

"The fuck would I do with it, anyway?" Ammond asks incredulously. "What possible use could I have for your soul. Really, now."

"I might be interested in why you felt the need to scream at me in my own hive and then drag my friend out into the snow, though," she adds, and looks to said friend to ask, "You ok there, Jay?"

[nephewcrusher]

Agatha pushes Zimin off of her. Man or woman, she doesn't like him clinging to her and cackling like a detestable harpy. The horned creature - girl? - is as vulgar and crass as one might expect, but she is not sounding threatening, per se. The older woman takes another steps away from the vile pair of them.

"How should I be expected to know what you would do with one? I am not a demon, and everyone has a soul, you fool boy. If you're not hellspawn, then why would you dress in such an extraordinary manner at home? Are you expecting some sort of fancy dress affair?"

[amourtician]

"It's just what she looks like, darling," Jay says, curtly, and then his brain catches up with what Agatha said. "Wait. Boy? Hah! You flatter me, dearest. I'm thirty three."

He crosses his arms and glares at Aunt Agatha, daring her to make something of this.

[psycheslantern]

Ammond smirks. "Nah, if I was going to an impersonation riot, I've got a great aquatic squawkfowl mask I'd be wearing," she replies, with a shrug. She looks down at her shirt, frowning pensively as she flicks a bit of lint off with her fingernail. "I mean, yeah, this is a little grubby, but I don't think I'd say extraordinary."

She knows exactly what Aunt Agatha means, of course, but the troll's not exactly in a cooperative mood right now.

[nephewcrusher]

Agatha doesn't even acknowledge Zimin's existence. If he is going to continue to use such endearments, she will not tolerate him. "What ridiculous language are you using, girl? And I hardly mean just that lingerie you're comporting yourself in like a half-penny harlot. That make-up you're wearing. Why are you dressed as a demon?"

[amourtician]

"Harlot?" Jay says, in a strangled whisper. "You old bag, how dare you."

His own views on propriety notwithstanding, he's not about to let Aunt Agatha insult Ammond.

[psycheslantern]

"It's Alternian, lowblood dialect, high galactic imperial era," Ammond replies, lifting her chin just a little, and sneering just enough to expose pointy teeth behind black lips. Maybe she's just a yellowblood from the wrong part of town, and maybe she's very fond of some of her alien friends and neighbors, and maybe she's adopted a number of decidedly non-troll people as in-clade - but she's still Alternian and she doesn't have to take this kind of shit from an ill-tempered little mammalian alien. "And I haven't had a chance to put on my dermal ornamentation substances, because I wasn't planning on going out until someone started throwing a hissy fit on my liminal platform. Not that I'd expect an overwrought barbarian like you to know anything about what would be tasteful cosmetic choices for a troll of my caste, in the first place."

Proooobably should have put this earlier, but cw: internalized misogyny

[nephewcrusher]

This time, Agatha does have a withering look for Jay at the ready. He hasn't used one of his endearments this time, even if he's chosen insults instead. Those, she can tolerate. "Any girl who goes about dressed like that is asking for a man to take her in a dark alleyway behind the rubbish bins."

Most of Ammond's self-righteous rant gets ignored. What the old woman does catch on is her description of herself. "Troll? What nonsense." She snorts. "Shouldn't you be living under a bridge to terrorize people?"