IC Inbox

[oohforeshadowing]

Let me get back to you, darling.

Comments

[oh_no_matopoeia]

"Fifteen."

Says Miles, and doesn't rise to the bait of the guess.

"But I've had to do more complicated things than most fifteen year olds. How old are you?"

[oohforeshadowing]

"Twenty....something," they say, with a vague gesture. "I don't exactly have the paperwork, darling. What are most fifteen year olds doing, where you come from?"

[oh_no_matopoeia]

"They're in school."

He admits, with a small wince.

"I still am too. I just also get involved now when things are happening that are a little too weird for the police to handle."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Oh. All the teenagers I've met recently are fighting a war for planetary domination," Trouble says, just in case they don't sound appropriately impressed.

[oh_no_matopoeia]

"Oh good. Then you know we can do it."

He'll take it, honestly. And also, jump forward as something hawklike and whirring electronically swoops down at them to divebomb from above.

[oohforeshadowing]

Trouble is all set to point out that 'can do it' isn't the same as 'can do it well' - but then neatly flips backwards to avoid the same threat.

"Really?"

[oh_no_matopoeia]

Miles rolls, and snaps out a line of web, catching it on the way off. It pivots, and smacks into the ground, mechanical wings beating ineffectually against the sticky web.

"Yikes."

[oohforeshadowing]

"For what it's worth, I feel extremely safe in your company," Trouble chirps, strolling forward for a better look at the webbing.

"What does that...come out of?"

[oh_no_matopoeia]

"There are safety protocols in here anyways."

Says Miles, and folds his hands behind his back. Nope.

"I bet more of these things are incoming?"

[oohforeshadowing]

"Oh, I'm not worried about that. You're my very righteous warden and you'll protect me, darling."

Trouble resumes their saunter towards the treeline, walking in heels like they're barefoot, tail swaying.

[oh_no_matopoeia]

"I mean- I will, but I think-"

Oh shoot, three of the things whir up behind them, in hot pursuit. Miles yelps and starts running after DT.

[oohforeshadowing]

Trouble glances back, watches their movements for a moment, then sighs.

"We can't get seriously hurt in here, according to you. And these things aren't intelligent. So I don't know -"

They double back, and the drones split up, forming a rough kind of pincer movement. Then they swoop in for the attack, Trouble ducks down, and they collide violently.

"...why you're worried."

[oh_no_matopoeia]

"We can't die, but we can lose the game."

Says Miles, hitching his backpack up and putting his thumbs under the straps, jogging to catch up. Trouble has slightly longer legs than him.

[oohforeshadowing]

"And?"

Trouble straightens their skirt slightly, then folds their arms, not moving further from the twitching drone wreckage nearby.

[oh_no_matopoeia]

"Games are fun, why not try to win?"

There's a small creek up ahead, and he jumps it cheerfully, looking back over his shoulder at them.

"Keep in practice."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Winning implies a prize, darling," Trouble points out, crossing the same stream.

[oh_no_matopoeia]

"We could- eat some icecream?"

Proposes Miles, who isn't sure there is icecream on board, but is prepared to search for some.

"Oh- what do you eat at home? You must be getting thrown into a lot of human cuisine."

[oohforeshadowing]

They tilt their head.

"What do you eat? Flies? No, you're bigger than that. Small mammals and birds, wrapped in silk and paralysed?"

[oh_no_matopoeia]

"I don't know what they've been telling you about Brooklyn but it's not that wild."

More sounds behind him, and he picks up into a scrambling run.

[oohforeshadowing]

"I don't know what Brooklyn is," Trouble says, picking up into a brisk walk. "I was thinking more about spiders. Obviously."

[oh_no_matopoeia]

"Oh right."

Says Miles, jumping over the next stream, bouncing closer in his jog.

"So does the stuff in the dining hall look like what you get at home?"

[oohforeshadowing]

"Most of it. I assume we have some similar animals and plants, or - at least they taste the same."

They say it carelessly, approaching the trees and glancing up at the sound of birdsong.

[oh_no_matopoeia]

It's a whirling discuss, hurled hard and fast at their head from a small craft thaat swoops in low and takes a potshot at Miles.

The enclosure isn't playing any more, apparently.

[oohforeshadowing]

Trouble responds to this, but only on their own behalf, getting clear of the thing's trajectory. Maybe if they're very lucky, it'll knock Miles out cold and spare them the rest of this nonsense exercise.

[oh_no_matopoeia]

No dice. He's bouncing around after them, tossing out a couple of more strands of web to try to foul the spinning blades keeping thing up.