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hs_olympics2012-08-06 09:24 pm
hso_mods) wrote in hs_olympics2012-08-06 09:24 pm
BONUS ROUND 5
Bonus Round 5
Tales from the Road
Hey, shippers! HSO is winding down, so we thought we'd take a look back at the journey, so to speak. With that in mind, this next bonus round is going to be roadtrip-themed! Give us a little taste of your characters' life on the road, whatever form that takes.
Rules
- Submit prompts! Prompts should consist of one ship (friendship/gen is fine too!) and a location. This cannot be your team's ship! This round we will not be giving points for prompts.
- Look through the prompts and fill whichever you like!
- You may not fill prompts for your ship, nor may you fill your own team's prompts.
- Fills should be posted as replies to the prompts which they are for, following the format below. They may be any medium.
Title Format
If you are starting a new thread, please use this format in your title.
Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team YOU belong to; please use the characters and quadrant, not whatever portmanteau or nickname you've come up with.
If you are filling a prompt, use this format in your title.
Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team YOU belong to; please use the characters and quadrant, not whatever portmanteau or nickname you've come up with.
If your team name is not in this format and in the title we cannot guarantee that it will be counted.
Posts not using this format in the title will be understood to be unofficial discussion posts, no matter what they contain. They, like all comments on the comm, are subject to the Wank Policy.
Scoring
For fills (as stated here):
First 5 entries in each post: 30 (per entry)
Entries 6-10 in each post: 20 (per entry)
Entries 11-15 in each post: 10 (per entry)
Entries 16+ in each post: 5 (per entry)
All scored content must be created/assembled new for this round.
If you have any questions, please ask them at the FAQ post here, or email them to us (homestuck.shipping at gmail). Otherwise, we cannot guarantee that we will see them in a timely fashion!
Bonus Round 5 is now closed!
16/08/12 Comments are unscreened again, for the sake of comments on fills. No new fills are being counted for points.
FILL: TEAM DAVE<3JADE
--
"But where do you go to have fun?"
He stares blankly for a moment, not because he's forgotten the word so much as he's forgotten what it has to do with him. It's a long enough pause that Mr. Strider and Ms. Lalonde trade a look across the table. He straightens and clears his throat, looks down.
"Well, you two know how it is, a single father and working man..."
Ms. Lalonde's eyes crinkle sympathetically and she covers his hand, but Mr. Strider frowns. Mr. Egbert knows he's doing it deliberately, that it's for him to see, and he casts around for something to say.
"I used to go to the circus," he finally says, almost asking it, like a child before the blackboard.
The two exchange another glance, but this seems to be the right answer, because the next morning there are three tickets on the table to Cirque du Soleil's Alegría, made out to one Dr. Lalonde.
--
"Hell, Lalonde, how much did you pay for these seats?"
She smiles and bumps shoulders with Mr. Strider, tips up the brim of Mr. Egbert's hat. "Only the best for my boys."
She and Strider sit on either side of Mr. Egbert without thinking about it. It's simply how it should be, today. Ms. Lalonde will take the middle next time they watch a foreign film, and Mr. Strider will cozy up to both of them and chuckle at their attempts to play his skateboarding games. (Ms. Lalonde wins every time, even more so when she's been drinking.)
"So this is really a thing for you, huh. That why you have clowns all over your house?" Mr. Strider says as Ms. Lalonde withdraws a chic flask from her purse.
"Harlequins." Mr. Egbert folds open his program and misses his pipe. "And it isn't really. I got them for John." He ignores how Ms. Lalonde shoots another look over his head at Mr. Strider. "But over the years, I guess you could say I developed an appreciation for the craft."
He has. It's acting, it's performance--the art of moving people. He prefers more of a classic slapstick, buttonhole-flower routine himself to all the tumbling and theatrics, but even his white-collar, serious business soul has a little wonder in it for people who fly.
The lights dim. The ringmaster approaches. Ms. Lalonde puts away her flask, for now.
It begins.
"Italian," Ms. Lalonde murmurs into Mr. Egbert's ear as the acrobats begin to circle to the music. She begins to translate, but it shifts into English, and then again into another language. "Mm, Spanish?"
"Claro que sí," Mr. Strider remarks, and they both turn to him.
"You know Spanish, Strider?" Ms. Lalonde asks.
He inclines his head, offers a smirk in the darkness. "Nothing I can repeat in public."
She laughs, Mr. Egbert smiles, and they say nothing as Ms. Lalonde places her hand on his elbow, as Mr. Strider casually winds his arm around his shoulders.
They remain like that throughout the double trapezes and the bouncing contortions of the tumblers. Ms. Lalonde gasps quietly at the flying man on his ropes of silk, and Mr. Strider squeezes her shoulder. In turn, when he says, "I can do that," at the fire-knife dance, Mr. Egbert tells him, "You'll have to show us."
They remain like that until the end of the Russian bars act, as Ms. Lalonde's hand tightens on Mr. Egbert's elbow, Mr. Strider's arm tenses and then pulls away from his shoulders. They watch the little monkey-eared boy mount the bar. They watch the older gymnast lift and cradle him against his chest. Mr. Egbert thinks he can hear Mr. Strider's soft inhalation as the boy clings to the man's neck--or maybe it's his imagination, maybe it's him.
They jerk in unison as the man leaps, flips in the air, lands safely on the bar again with the child in his arms.
For a moment, the image remains burned against his eyelids: the man curled around the boy, protective, powerful, helpless in the moment of falling.
The boy jumps down and runs to the front of the stage, kneels and grins to his applause, but Ms. Lalonde rests her head on Mr. Egbert's shoulder. Mr. Strider takes off his cap to run his hand through his hair.
They are all shaken in ways that no one can see.
Mr. Egbert takes Mr. Strider's hand, rubs his thumb over the window of skin in the back of his glove before interlocking their fingers. They are both warm, both callused.
He kisses Ms. Lalonde's temple and slides his arm around her waist, holds her close. She hiccups a little and grips the back of his shirt, then reaches across him with her free hand.
Mr. Strider takes it, holds it tight.
He is a man that gives nothing away.
She is a woman who gives all that she has.
And Mr. Egbert will hold both of them until the final bows, as light reenters their world and they have to blink away the dream of the circus. He will hold them still, and Mr. Strider will snort and kiss Ms. Lalonde's knuckles, and she'll laugh and press her nose against his neck. Only then will he remember his Latin class: Alicer. Alegría. Joy.
And he knows what that word, at least, has to do with him.
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