"Oswald Doyle" (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
umbrael) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
savetheearth2014-03-18 11:36 am
umbrael) wrote in savetheearth2014-03-18 11:36 am
Entry tags:
Action [closed]
Who: Doyle/Umbrael and Cinderella/Rarity
When: Night of March 16
Where:A gardening shed, right? Cinderella's stables
What: Stuck as a dinosaur-thing, Doyle attempts to find some better shelter, but he forgets to see if someone's already using it.
Warnings: None!
Doyle's cold.
Doyle's really cold.
And he's not sure if he's cold-blooded or something - scaly things were, right? But if he was, wouldn't he be dead by now? Actually, you know what, nevermind, he wasn't going to look that gift-horse in the mouth.
But it'd gotten really cold, and he had gotten really tired, and he'd fallen asleep at some point. It wasn't until he found himself waking up that he realized that he might not have woken up at all. Debatable blood-warmth aside, sleeping in the cold was never good.
So clearly, the next logical step was to not sleep, but apparently even big dinosaurs needed some shuteye now and then. His arms and legs felt shaky, and his - his tail was dragging on the ground. He seemed to be able to see in the dark - as good, almost better sometimes than during the day - but now things were getting blurry around the edges, and his eyes felt good when he blinked... Yes, he definitely recognized that feeling. He needed sleep, and maybe... maybe he could risk another night of it. Or even just sitting down for a bit, and he didn't have to rest long before he got up and...
And what? Doyle couldn't take shelter in the city. He was pretty sure he couldn't even fit in his apartment anymore, if that was somehow an option. He needed to find somewhere else, but the city was too busy with clean-up, and the only really 'abandoned' district was owned by ThunderCorp, now, wasn't it? Which left... Not a lot. He thought about trying to connect to the network, but he didn't really have fingers anymore, concrete was too hard, and what ground he could push around with his talons was crumbly, not to mention his talons weren't exactly delicate and graceful to work with. He gave up, figuring searching was better than horsing around with this numbers nonsense.
He kept wandering. Moving was supposed to generate heat, right? And maybe he'd actually find something out here in the middle of nowhere.
Sure enough - at some point, he raised his head a little higher, when the sky seemed to be a little darker, and in the distance he saw... Lights!
From a house.
He sighed, and wondered if he should pick up the pace and get by it quickly, or if he should wait until they went to sleep. He also tried not to think of how warm it must be in there, and how he - he kind of missed being human already.
But then he saw... What was it, a shed? It was a smaller building-thing, a distance away from the house. Hope fluttered weakly in Doyle's chest as he slowed.
He stared at the shed-thing as an internal debate raged inside him. Could he use that? Maybe not - too close to someone's house. But it was the first thing he had found that looked like usable shelter that he could fit into (he was pretty sure - unless he got bigger while he was slept, somehow). And - if it was a shed or something, it wasn't like anyone was going to do any gardening or lawnmowing with snow still on the ground, right?
He started walking a little faster despite the stiffness in his muscles, and though he tried to be careful, the burst of excitement at the thought of sleep and shelter made it hard to concentrate on that. The lack of sleep and the cold made it hard to concentrate, too.
There was a smell that he didn't recognized - well, there were a lot of smells he didn't recognize, since giant dinosaurs apparently had better noses, too - but there was something newer and slowly stronger as he got closer. But, hey, if it was a gardening shed or something, it made sense to smell, right?
(No offense.)
When: Night of March 16
Where:
What: Stuck as a dinosaur-thing, Doyle attempts to find some better shelter, but he forgets to see if someone's already using it.
Warnings: None!
Doyle's cold.
Doyle's really cold.
And he's not sure if he's cold-blooded or something - scaly things were, right? But if he was, wouldn't he be dead by now? Actually, you know what, nevermind, he wasn't going to look that gift-horse in the mouth.
But it'd gotten really cold, and he had gotten really tired, and he'd fallen asleep at some point. It wasn't until he found himself waking up that he realized that he might not have woken up at all. Debatable blood-warmth aside, sleeping in the cold was never good.
So clearly, the next logical step was to not sleep, but apparently even big dinosaurs needed some shuteye now and then. His arms and legs felt shaky, and his - his tail was dragging on the ground. He seemed to be able to see in the dark - as good, almost better sometimes than during the day - but now things were getting blurry around the edges, and his eyes felt good when he blinked... Yes, he definitely recognized that feeling. He needed sleep, and maybe... maybe he could risk another night of it. Or even just sitting down for a bit, and he didn't have to rest long before he got up and...
And what? Doyle couldn't take shelter in the city. He was pretty sure he couldn't even fit in his apartment anymore, if that was somehow an option. He needed to find somewhere else, but the city was too busy with clean-up, and the only really 'abandoned' district was owned by ThunderCorp, now, wasn't it? Which left... Not a lot. He thought about trying to connect to the network, but he didn't really have fingers anymore, concrete was too hard, and what ground he could push around with his talons was crumbly, not to mention his talons weren't exactly delicate and graceful to work with. He gave up, figuring searching was better than horsing around with this numbers nonsense.
He kept wandering. Moving was supposed to generate heat, right? And maybe he'd actually find something out here in the middle of nowhere.
Sure enough - at some point, he raised his head a little higher, when the sky seemed to be a little darker, and in the distance he saw... Lights!
From a house.
He sighed, and wondered if he should pick up the pace and get by it quickly, or if he should wait until they went to sleep. He also tried not to think of how warm it must be in there, and how he - he kind of missed being human already.
But then he saw... What was it, a shed? It was a smaller building-thing, a distance away from the house. Hope fluttered weakly in Doyle's chest as he slowed.
He stared at the shed-thing as an internal debate raged inside him. Could he use that? Maybe not - too close to someone's house. But it was the first thing he had found that looked like usable shelter that he could fit into (he was pretty sure - unless he got bigger while he was slept, somehow). And - if it was a shed or something, it wasn't like anyone was going to do any gardening or lawnmowing with snow still on the ground, right?
He started walking a little faster despite the stiffness in his muscles, and though he tried to be careful, the burst of excitement at the thought of sleep and shelter made it hard to concentrate on that. The lack of sleep and the cold made it hard to concentrate, too.
There was a smell that he didn't recognized - well, there were a lot of smells he didn't recognize, since giant dinosaurs apparently had better noses, too - but there was something newer and slowly stronger as he got closer. But, hey, if it was a gardening shed or something, it made sense to smell, right?
(No offense.)
no subject
The past week, Cinderella had been sleeping far better than she had since events had started to escalate - roughly since the earthquake, and she felt entitled to every bit of peace of mind she got, so long as she didn't let herself get complacent - which, though intent only counts for so much, she most certainy had no intention of doing.
One week ago, she'd served as a ride to and went braving and navigating a complete catastrophe (with and alongside a brave and well-respected friend no less), made it out to its end, and trotted herself out as an example of their kind, which, all the more that that should lock in that it wouldn't last long, let alone forever, made quiet something to shamelessly take advantage of. Her family seemed to be seeing fit to help her do that to its maximum - they'd brought their hero horse a couple of rather pricey-feeling quilts the past few nights - and a cup of cocoa, with her tastes having come to light naturally by around Christmas.
Tonight, one of her quilts was draped over her back, and her cocoa was cool enough to be down to two-fifths of a levitating cup by the time someone started to cross her pasture.
She was relaxed but not dozing - swiveled her ears toward the stable entrance. Started to turn, and then pace. The mug coasted at level with and alongside her head. Debated trotting out in the snow to knock on the house's backdoor for another cup to remedy that.
Naturally actually downing the rest of the cup she had would leave her at more of a point to decide whether or not that'd actually do any noticeable good as a little extra last bit of spoiling for the night.
Paused in her tracks, slid the mug in midair to the end of her muzzle, tipped it back, and did just that.
Decided that she'd let it get too barn-warm. In tonight's weather that didn't even pass for warm, and thus, vital choice made.
High-trotted a few steps over and shook her head out to brace herself a bit, and pushed the barn door open to cross over to the house.
no subject
It was definitely warm in there, he could just tell, somehow, and that just made his pace faster, and his caution a little less so. (Though it might not have helped - the black scales were probably good for hiding in dark spots, but not so much amongst patches of snow.)
It was as he rounded the corner of the building (or most of him), he could see that it wasn't entirely closed off, which was sort of weird for a shed maybe? Hell, he'd never lived in anything with a shed, so what did he know. What did it matter, if it was warm?
But then the door opened and whatever stupid thought about sheds he was having left his mind with everything else.
Shit - someone was there -- But who would be in a shed at this time of-?
A white creature. With a horn-- Oh. Oh. Wait, he knew this -
"Talking horse?" he said as a low huff of air.
no subject
She did when she turned her head to check it - and her line of sight swung over something dark.
Her eyes popped.
Muzzle angled up. Big horsey heart gave an uncomfortable rushing thump, and as her focus snapped, the mug dropped - didn't hear it - and the sight hit the middle and back parts of her brain, came rushing cold in the front to polish her visual impression, and snapped her very much awake.
She had trotted out of her stable door to a moster in her pasture - there was a monster in her pasture!
Reptile face - one of the snakes? Not one of the snakes, wrong color, wrong size, wrong shape, a squeak came slipping up out of her throat somewhere in the racking her mind for words to pin to it, sense, what it was doing here, how to get rid of it -
And with a rush, her whole mind emptied. Another hollower pulse, and a mental image swelled in.
Big reptile creature. Purple scales. Spines running down its back. Holding her firmly in a claw, lifting her up to its face -
"Dragon?!" came her next squeak - just a smidge of breath, more voice than air, but not only a word but almost a reply, enough to shove loose out of some of the petrification.
no subject
Oh - oh that's right, he was kind of a - he forgot. Ha ha ha, he forgot he was a giant dinosaur-thing. A Kheliosaur. The tension went out of him, and his ears lowered, and so did his head, and he sighed, a long, cloudy breath. At least she hasn't screamed yet.
"I guess you don't speak dinosaur?" He rumbled. He hoped it sounded as tired and non-threatening as he felt.
Well, no, it was hard to really feel nonthreatening when you could tower over a pony the way he was, but he was so exhausted from everything that he wasn't sure he could follow up on any threat his appearance made.