Daniel Ciin (miaiphonos) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2011-09-06 20:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | ares, phobos |
the violence of the sun
Who: Rylee & Samuel.
What: Gift giving and vidja games.
Where: 707.
When: 5 September, an hour after this.
Warnings: Language, almost certainly.
The door was unlocked, precisely as Samuel had said - or texted, rather, between rounds of hunting down and murdering the pixellated avatars of what he sincerely hoped were bitterly weeping twelve year olds. He had been lucky enough to catch both Fiona and Max online, and while his performance against them could not have been called stellar, it had been a close enough contest to please him all the same. They had given him a good fight, and that was all he had required. His losses had done nothing to dampen his spirits or lessen his steady stream of shit-talk, still flowing freely even now.
Before him, perched atop the coffee table, was a gift too neatly wrapped to have been attended to by its current owner. Its wrapping was simple - faintly shiny black paper with a small red bow - but tidy, it seams neatly and sharply folded. Beside it sat one empty glass tumbler and another half-full, and between them a tall bottle of Jameson, still chill from the freezer.
On screen, a woman in green swished up to her hooded prey, slashing his throat with a flick of her dagger. Samuel laughed into his mic, pressing a button to make his avatar taunt his dead quarry. "Fuck yeah," he said, reaching up to grab his drink.