Kenzi [005] Video

[onteamdyson]

[Oh hey, it's Kenzi! She appears to be sitting on a bench... outside... with the sun setting and snow falling softly. Is she crazy?! At least she's bundled up and in layers, even if her bunny hat looks really stupid. There's some statue or something behind her, looks like a lady. She's definitely sitting in the cemetery, just chillin']

Hey biatches! So... not that I'm being totally nostalgic or homesick or anything, because that shit is for pussies, but-- [She winces, adjusting her position so she's supporting her right arm with her left. It tilts the video a bit.]

Which of you crazy freaks has never seen snow before? Anyone? Just remember that in a pinch, socks CAN be used as mittens. I'm willing to field any basic questions about this poor, misguided imitation of Canadian weather.



((ooc: She's literally just sitting around in the cemetery thinking about dark junk. Feel free to go up and bug her.))

Comments

[onteamdyson]

Your dad's name is Nathan? [Ooooh facts about Galen. Information to absorb. She smirks. Info is power... but she's also genuinely curious.] And your bandmates?

[gleans]

Yup. And my band... [ He kicks at some snow as they walk. ]

Brad's been my best friend since high school, he's lead guitar and my second set of pipes. I mentioned Daphne, we dated, she's bass, and pretty kickass on drums, too. Terri's a total badass and our, hah -- makeup queen, she's on drums. And I play guitar sometimes. So. There's some TCC for you.

[onteamdyson]

They sound really-- [Normal. Nice, normal people. Normal rockstar people who don't have to lie about everything and not even mention the rest and who probably don't have an arm that's about to fall of.] --awesome.

[And he probably misses them! Nice job, idiot. She clings a bit tighter.] Sooooo. We're totally walking in a graveyard. If the stereotype police pop up and try to put us in a box, I'll gouge out their eyes and you punch them in the junk. Deal?

[gleans]

[ He grins and bumps her shoulder lightly -- then laughs. ] Deal. I don't give a fuck what anyone says, man, cemeteries are a great place to relax and think -- and my hair is naturally this dark, c'mon. [ Snerk. ] There was this one I used to visit a lot, when I was younger -- it was nice.

[onteamdyson]

Yeah? [What the hell, Galen? How do you keep getting more amazing? Her face just kind of lights up. Yeah. He gets her. She's really freakin' glad that he's here.] I had one of those, too. Sometimes you just need a place to think.

[gleans]

See? Exactly. [ He smiles back, happy to have found a kindred spirit. ] I like reading the headstones and wondering what kind of people they used to be. Which -- like, for years, sounded so fuckin' weird, but I grew up with that stuff.

[onteamdyson]

What stuff? Dead stuff? Were you born in a taxidermy shop?

[Huh. That's actually a pretty cool idea. She stops in front of an older-looking headstone, gently brushing some snow off the top.]

How much you wanna bet Ida Straum was a teacher?

[gleans]

Either a hardass PE teacher or a hardass librarian. [ An amused little noise. ] And uh -- no, my dad's a mortician. I helped out around the home when I was a teenager, so I heard a lot of stuff.

[onteamdyson]

Severe bun, whistle, hideous old-timey gym shorts. I can see it. Nice call.

[WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA-] DUDE! That is so COOL! No wonder you're this awesome. How freaky even ARE you? This rocks. Your dead-peeps experience is way more legit and probably less horrifying than mine.

[gleans]

[ Quietly, in an accent:] IIIIda Straum.

[ D'aw, he blushes a little and ducks his mouth and nods behind his scarf. ] Naw, dude, that's probably as far as my freaky goes. Like, I've seen people getting pumped with formaldehyde, but after a while the grossness novelty kinda wears off.

[onteamdyson]

Oh my god, Squishy. [She saw that blush! Cutieface. His arm gets another squeeze.] You know you can ask me shiz, too. I'll try to answer around the big, gaping holes of Omertà to save us both a few broken kneecaps.

[gleans]

[ A light, weird little laugh as he starts leading them to another headstone. ] Hey, I don't mind talking. Getting me to shut up is the tough part. But, uh -- yeah, actually, first question: please tell me Squishy isn't sticking.

[onteamdyson]

[BABYVOICE] But it's such a fitting name! [Look, she's proving it by squishing both his cheeks in one mitten'd hand!] Squuuiiishy. It should be your new stage name. Squishy and the Starfish. Totally change your image, wear a lot of cuddly snow suits and adorable hats. I'll let you borrow this one!

[gleans]

Hey, no, I have an obligation to uphold the tough guy image. [ What tough guy image? He points at the ground! ] And I think George Dixon the boxer over here agrees with me.

[onteamdyson]

[She pushes away from him, twirling like a ballerina with her hands up over her head. Then she's holding her mitten up in front of her, grabbing an invisible hanging-microphone from the sky.]

Aaaaaaaaaand in this corner, weighing in at about ... twenty pounds, your reigning graveyard grudgematch champioooooon, GEOOOOOOOOORGE DIXOOOOOOOON!

[gleans]

[ He grins and starts backing up to the next headstone, spreading his hands out to his side, and in his best stage-slash-radio voice: ] Aaaand in this corner, the blight of the boneyard, the monster of the morgue aaaaand this year's surprise up-and-comer --

[ He reaches to clear away the snow, and cackles as he reads the name: ] Inga -- Inga Ragnvaldsson! Sheesh.

[onteamdyson]

Ouch. Inga, he didn't mean it, really. You're no monster. I'm sure you were a very nice viking lady. Galen, apologize to the dead chick! Bóže moj!

[Her face is starting to hurt from smiling so much, and that voice of his was pretty impressive.] Do I still get a song even though the notebook retrieval mission was a bust? Could always use a few lullabies when we get home.

[gleans]

Sorry, Inga. My bad.

[ He laughs a little and swivels on one foot. ] Promise not to pass out and drool on me and it's a deal. Assuming I can remember the lyrics without the notebook... [ HE'S TEASING. ]

[onteamdyson]

[GAAAAAAAAAAAAASP] I don't drool, you jerk! Unless there is a pile of pancakes all warm and fluffy and covered in syrup... or an extra-cheesy pizza lying around. Too much delicious foodstuff out there to waste drool on sleep! Also I can always just jog your memory!

[Via a QUICKLY FORMED SNOWBALL TO THE HEAD!]

[gleans]

Aaaah! [ DUCKS! It whacks across the side of his head. >:( ] Hey, not fair, I don't wanna hit your gangrenous arm.

[onteamdyson]

[She just beams at him, nice and bright. Snowball fight in the graveyard. Galen, where have you been all her life? Bo would never do this with her in a million years!]

Good thing I got two of 'em, huh!? Prepare your butt for a moderate to severe whooping. Creepy arm or not, I can still totally own you!

[gleans]

[ He looks conflicted. God dammit! But she's not backing down. Also god dammit. He leans over and starts packing up some snow. ] Okay, but if I end up knocking it off, it's totally not my fault.

[onteamdyson]

[Damn right she's not backing down. Actually, she's ducking behind a tombstone to make more snowballs.]

If it falls off, you're carrying me to Bruce so he can sew it back on and then I win the snowbattle by default!

[gleans]

Ha, then we'll match! [ Wait, she doesn't know about that?He'll just use this chance to get close enough to throw this snowball at her back. 8) ]

[onteamdyson]

[Her head pops up from behind the the tombstone.] Match? What the hell do you mean match? Have I been living with the undead this entire time? You gotta tell people that kind of stuff in advance, man! Just common courtesy. I knew there had to be something wrong with you, you're too cool.