InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "All over my new duvet."

James Tiberius Kirk (illdoitinthree) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-07-29 23:29:00

Entry tags:

!dropped, day 17, james t. kirk, leonard mccoy, location: gas station, spock

This is my future in bright pink.
Who: James T. Kirk, Spock (open to Bones :D VERY OPEN TO BONES. EXTREMELY OPEN *hinthint*.)
What: Reunited ~~and it feels so gooooood.~~
Where: Gas Station
When: Day 17; Noon
Rating: TBA
Status: Active

There comes a time, Jim mused, that drastic measures had to be taken. If one were to listen to proverbs and the like, one would know that drastic times called for drastic measures. Of course, Jim knew this. But he wondered if said logic was sound when every damn second spent inside this infuriating hell in a bubble was potentially, if not arguably, drastic. He supposed the conclusion that their current situation was "drastic" was fairly subjective. Spock didn't look like he was entertaining the idea of their being in any serious danger, while Bones seemed more on edge than even Jim could attest to.

Jim stared down at his captain chair again, and brooded silently. It was a sight to behold. And he had. For the second day straight. He didn't know if he wanted to tear it up more than he wanted to simply burn it into nonexistence. And yet, he didn't have the energy or heart to do either. He kicked at the armrest, bright pink with stupidly cheery flowers.

God.

He didn't want to think of how they had attained it. How they had dismantled it from his ship. The thought of it being a replica was a path much too worn for his taste. He looked to Spock, and motioned down to his chair, eerily quiet.

(Read comments) - (Post a new comment)

strictlylogical
2009-07-30 04:19 pm UTC (link)

"What the hell is what, sir?" Spock asked, raising a well-manicured upswept eyebrow at his captain, tamping down on the twitching with an effort of will. Spock could hardly help but notice the parallels between his own predicament with the corners of his mouth and the nervous tic that seemed to be pulsing from Kirk's eye, and the twitching returned again with a vengeance. He was well-aware that Kirk was indignant, righteously so, and in no mood to see the lighter side of the situation. However, he could do nothing but voice his thoughts in his usual calm register (although, were one to listen carefully, one might detect a very faint warmth to the tone that indicated the Vulcan equivalent to glee. Very subdued glee):

"It had occurred to me...mere speculation, mind, but given our previous encounters with alternate timelines and universes...perhaps this is not your chair, but rather, the chair of a James Tiberius Kirk from another universe with rather different sartorial tastes and a flair for interior decorating?" Spock pursed his lips in a further effort to control himself, but it was all proving too much for the Vulcan. Between Kirk's dismayed, wounded and disgruntled posture and the sheer effrontery of the captain's chair that met their eyes, a spectacular eyesore which Kirk could not bring himself to get rid of, Spock feared he would lose his trademark composure. He turned away, busying himself with strenuous mathematical calculations of the sort that would make a mere mortal's head spin.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

justmybones
2009-07-31 02:14 pm UTC (link)

The physician had no choice: he had to get back to the gas station. He'd made the mistake of going for a walk, and everywhere he went it seemed there was one of those stupid monitors there. Those monitors that showed the people in the rooms being tortured. It was more than the humanitarian could take. Especially when he'd stopped by the Theater. When he'd seen them being cut open. That had been too much. The Doctor had walked away silently, choking back the vomit until he was far enough from everyone else he knew he wouldn't be caught.

Then his path took him back to the gas station, the place he and Kirk had been staying. It wasn't so bad, well until the food had started to run out. Now, it was just an odd sort of a shell, a store that wasn't quite a store anymore. Pushing open the door he canted his head, seeing that familiar mustard yellow shirt and another blue one just like his own. Then he recognized that head. He knew it immediately from the haircut and from the way the ears seemed so elongated, even from behind.

"Hot damn, it really is you, isn't it?" McCoy walked in further, running a hand over his mouth, trying to shake away any lingering feelings of nausea.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

illdoitinthree
2009-08-01 07:14 pm UTC (link)

His bottom eyelid continued to twitch. "Perhaps," he returned with a glare as stony as his tone. Although it wasn't exactly improbable considering as Spock had put it their "previous encounters with alternate timelines and universes", it still goaded Jim to feel almost insulted. Possibly at the fact that Spock was suggesting another version of his person was so...erm, touched by the color pink or that Jim would buy such ridiculous crap as something else than a joke made at his expense.

He forewent any further words to Spock seeing Bones arrive and trained his eyes on him dutifully. Jim could feel the slow stir in his stomach like a persistent unease at the doctor's mere presence. The video he had seen in the panic room lived in the back of his mind. But Bones was alive and well. And Jim feared it like a premonition.

He didn't say anything, merely looked to Spock for a response and back to his medical officer. "Are you okay, Bones?" he asked after a beat, in what had probably become his favorite query in regards to the doctor since the start of the day. Bones looked a little unsettled.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

(Read comments) -