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Sep. 16th, 2018 07:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
holdingacatAhhh, college. Cecil stands in the doorway to the auditorium, taking in the sight of the chaos and excitement of a scholastic event. The air is thick with the smell of optimism and desperation and sleep deprivation. The tables and walls are plastered with the efforts of academic rigor.
Awww.
It's like he never left. Cecil sighs happily, then looks back at the trio of interns he brought with him, all of them cowering at the edges of the doorway, warily eyeing the crowd.
"Go on, shoo, get some stories, talk to people. If I find anyone under a table you're all on keening duty for a month." Cecil encourages, waving his hands to herd the trio of fledgling radio professionals into the auditorium. He watches them go, all clutching their credentials in a panic and scurrying into the flow of movement around the room.
So cute.
Cecil adjusts his shirt for the nth time that evening, reminds himself that it is a lucky shirt, and sets his shoulders. Tonight. Tonight, he's going to be brave. With his cat's ear headband firmly in place, hefting his portable recording equipment, he sallies forth into the annual Night Vale Community College Science Fair.
-------------------------------------------------------
Three hours later, Cecil is having a fantastic time. He hasn't found Carlos yet, but he has run out of NVCR Intern applications, and he has enjoyed appreciating the efforts and exhibits of the students (the display about the attempts to genetically modify cactus was particularly interesting, what with the cute little cacti running around in their pen). He has, unfortunately, found one intern cowering under a table, and had to take the boy aside and give him a brisk bucking up lecture... and a warning that he and his fellows had better show up at dawn for the daily keening to Station Management. You shouldn't make threats you aren't willing to carry out, after all - basics of management and all that. Cecil is reading a poster on the latest advances in GPS tracking collars when he realizes he recognizes the gorgeous oaky tones of a voice nearby.
Carlos!
Cecil takes a deep breath to steady his heart, the rogue organ trying to batter itself out of his ribcage. Masters of all, wouldn't that be embarrassing? With a firm hold of his nerves, he turns and gives Carlos his best welcoming smile.
"Hello Carlos, I had no idea you would be here tonight! Enjoying yourself?" Cecil asks, his voice edging into his radio persona cadence. There's precious little he can do about it - there's only so many things he can be expected to control at once. "I mean, I suspected, what with the topic and it being mandatory by order of the City Council, but still."
Carlos blinks in surprise, then blinks again, and Cecil isn't entirely sure what that expression is before it is gone.
"Cecil! I, um. Well, yes, thank you. This is all very interesting, professionally. These students seem to be asking a lot of very insightful questions, even if their findings don't make a lot of sense. That is, of course, normal for undergraduate science." Carlos explains, looking absolutely dashing in his fancy evening lab coat. Cecil does his damnedest not to just melt into the floor in a gooey puddle of adoration.
"Ah, yes, of cou..."
"And I'm hoping to convince a few of the more advanced students to spend some time in the lab. I'm sure you've heard, but a few members of my team have left, especially after that whole pyramid thing, it was just a little too unnerving for them." Carlos continues, his wry tone just... just perfect. The scientist smiles ruefully, and Cecil's treacherous heart backflips in his chest.
"I'm sorry the..."
"So if I can recruit from the community that would be ideal, both due to how difficult it is to come here in the first place," Carlos barrels on, overriding Cecil's feeble attempts to regain his verbal footing. "And then we would have a native voice, so to speak, to help translate what we know of science outside of Night Vale with what is accepted inside of Night Vale." Cecil takes a deep breath, remembers his promise and his hope, and tries again.
"That would be good!" It's a little over-enthusiastic, even for him, but it's a complete sentence. Victory! "Now, on a... personal note, I.. I was hoping, that... maybe. Definitely. Um. Dinner?" A bit of a strangled squeak enters his tone as Carlos looks... blank. No, not blank. Confused? Definitely confused. Shit.
"Would you like to get dinner? With me?"
Carlos is quiet for a moment. A moment so long, and Cecil can feel his heart plummeting to his shoes. Masters of us All...
"... Um. Sorry, Cecil, I was distracted, I... um. What is that?" Carlos asks, shaking Cecil out of his horror-stricken fugue by sounding properly horror-stricken himself, pointing to somewhere behind Cecil.
As Cecil turns, the screams start throughout the auditorium.
Cecil has a moment to take in the towering shape of something the size and spikiness of a saguaro cactus but with decidedly more prehensile and threatening limbs before realizing that it can definitely shoot spikes. Instinct takes over, and he tackles Carlos back behind a table before the first salvo can land.
Cautiously Cecil peers around the edge of the table to assess the situation. The creature is standing? Planted? In the place the pen of genetically modified cacti used to be. Cecil has a bare moment to regret the almost inevitable deaths of those poor undergraduates before another salvo of spines thud into the table.
"HELP, SECRET POLICE!" Cecil howls dutifully, in chorus with other Night Valeans who were currently uninjured and trying desperately to stay that way. Ninja stars, thrown by officers in their balaclavas, sink into the deep green flesh of the creature. It fails to slow the attack. There's a sound somewhere between a roar and the tearing of roots, shaking the ground.
"Fire!" Carlos shouts, shaking Cecil's shoulder. "We need fire. We probably won't be able to burn the creature itself with what we have here, but we can disarm it long enough to get everyone out." Cecil tries to remember what had been on display around them before chaos broke out, and nods. After assuring Carlos he'll be right back, he scrambles off through the maze of overturned tables, fallen displays, and fallen people.
He returns, bleeding from a couple grazes but carrying a couple of super-soakers, some hardware, candles, and lighter fluid. Old skills from scouts never really die, and within minutes he has a pair of makeshift flamethrowers. He blushes under Carlos' stare. It's so sweet, so he silently hands over one of the flamethrowers, and offers the use of the lighter he still habitually carries. Carlos offers a dashing smile, and taking Cecil's heart with him, he charges forward. Cecil, following his stolen heart, follows after, perfectly content with his life in this moment.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hours later, Cecil and his surviving interns -
(To the family of Intern Ethan, our sincerest condolences...)
- manage to slog through the last few interviews. It will be a late night at the station tonight, and Cecil already knows he needs to get there as soon as possible, the pressure of this large event gone un-reported already near-unbearable. He herds his crew back towards the van waiting for them, weaving between ambulances and crying huddles of civilians and ominous black-hooded figures. Across the parking lot, Cecil spots Carlos doing much the same for his group of scientists, and for a wild moment he considers running across the asphalt, asking again, hoping that this time a mutant cactus wouldn't arrive and just... ruin everything.
One of the interns gets the van going, and Cecil dutifully hops in, slamming the door shuts as the tires screech against asphalt.
Awww.
It's like he never left. Cecil sighs happily, then looks back at the trio of interns he brought with him, all of them cowering at the edges of the doorway, warily eyeing the crowd.
"Go on, shoo, get some stories, talk to people. If I find anyone under a table you're all on keening duty for a month." Cecil encourages, waving his hands to herd the trio of fledgling radio professionals into the auditorium. He watches them go, all clutching their credentials in a panic and scurrying into the flow of movement around the room.
So cute.
Cecil adjusts his shirt for the nth time that evening, reminds himself that it is a lucky shirt, and sets his shoulders. Tonight. Tonight, he's going to be brave. With his cat's ear headband firmly in place, hefting his portable recording equipment, he sallies forth into the annual Night Vale Community College Science Fair.
-------------------------------------------------------
Three hours later, Cecil is having a fantastic time. He hasn't found Carlos yet, but he has run out of NVCR Intern applications, and he has enjoyed appreciating the efforts and exhibits of the students (the display about the attempts to genetically modify cactus was particularly interesting, what with the cute little cacti running around in their pen). He has, unfortunately, found one intern cowering under a table, and had to take the boy aside and give him a brisk bucking up lecture... and a warning that he and his fellows had better show up at dawn for the daily keening to Station Management. You shouldn't make threats you aren't willing to carry out, after all - basics of management and all that. Cecil is reading a poster on the latest advances in GPS tracking collars when he realizes he recognizes the gorgeous oaky tones of a voice nearby.
Carlos!
Cecil takes a deep breath to steady his heart, the rogue organ trying to batter itself out of his ribcage. Masters of all, wouldn't that be embarrassing? With a firm hold of his nerves, he turns and gives Carlos his best welcoming smile.
"Hello Carlos, I had no idea you would be here tonight! Enjoying yourself?" Cecil asks, his voice edging into his radio persona cadence. There's precious little he can do about it - there's only so many things he can be expected to control at once. "I mean, I suspected, what with the topic and it being mandatory by order of the City Council, but still."
Carlos blinks in surprise, then blinks again, and Cecil isn't entirely sure what that expression is before it is gone.
"Cecil! I, um. Well, yes, thank you. This is all very interesting, professionally. These students seem to be asking a lot of very insightful questions, even if their findings don't make a lot of sense. That is, of course, normal for undergraduate science." Carlos explains, looking absolutely dashing in his fancy evening lab coat. Cecil does his damnedest not to just melt into the floor in a gooey puddle of adoration.
"Ah, yes, of cou..."
"And I'm hoping to convince a few of the more advanced students to spend some time in the lab. I'm sure you've heard, but a few members of my team have left, especially after that whole pyramid thing, it was just a little too unnerving for them." Carlos continues, his wry tone just... just perfect. The scientist smiles ruefully, and Cecil's treacherous heart backflips in his chest.
"I'm sorry the..."
"So if I can recruit from the community that would be ideal, both due to how difficult it is to come here in the first place," Carlos barrels on, overriding Cecil's feeble attempts to regain his verbal footing. "And then we would have a native voice, so to speak, to help translate what we know of science outside of Night Vale with what is accepted inside of Night Vale." Cecil takes a deep breath, remembers his promise and his hope, and tries again.
"That would be good!" It's a little over-enthusiastic, even for him, but it's a complete sentence. Victory! "Now, on a... personal note, I.. I was hoping, that... maybe. Definitely. Um. Dinner?" A bit of a strangled squeak enters his tone as Carlos looks... blank. No, not blank. Confused? Definitely confused. Shit.
"Would you like to get dinner? With me?"
Carlos is quiet for a moment. A moment so long, and Cecil can feel his heart plummeting to his shoes. Masters of us All...
"... Um. Sorry, Cecil, I was distracted, I... um. What is that?" Carlos asks, shaking Cecil out of his horror-stricken fugue by sounding properly horror-stricken himself, pointing to somewhere behind Cecil.
As Cecil turns, the screams start throughout the auditorium.
Cecil has a moment to take in the towering shape of something the size and spikiness of a saguaro cactus but with decidedly more prehensile and threatening limbs before realizing that it can definitely shoot spikes. Instinct takes over, and he tackles Carlos back behind a table before the first salvo can land.
Cautiously Cecil peers around the edge of the table to assess the situation. The creature is standing? Planted? In the place the pen of genetically modified cacti used to be. Cecil has a bare moment to regret the almost inevitable deaths of those poor undergraduates before another salvo of spines thud into the table.
"HELP, SECRET POLICE!" Cecil howls dutifully, in chorus with other Night Valeans who were currently uninjured and trying desperately to stay that way. Ninja stars, thrown by officers in their balaclavas, sink into the deep green flesh of the creature. It fails to slow the attack. There's a sound somewhere between a roar and the tearing of roots, shaking the ground.
"Fire!" Carlos shouts, shaking Cecil's shoulder. "We need fire. We probably won't be able to burn the creature itself with what we have here, but we can disarm it long enough to get everyone out." Cecil tries to remember what had been on display around them before chaos broke out, and nods. After assuring Carlos he'll be right back, he scrambles off through the maze of overturned tables, fallen displays, and fallen people.
He returns, bleeding from a couple grazes but carrying a couple of super-soakers, some hardware, candles, and lighter fluid. Old skills from scouts never really die, and within minutes he has a pair of makeshift flamethrowers. He blushes under Carlos' stare. It's so sweet, so he silently hands over one of the flamethrowers, and offers the use of the lighter he still habitually carries. Carlos offers a dashing smile, and taking Cecil's heart with him, he charges forward. Cecil, following his stolen heart, follows after, perfectly content with his life in this moment.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hours later, Cecil and his surviving interns -
(To the family of Intern Ethan, our sincerest condolences...)
- manage to slog through the last few interviews. It will be a late night at the station tonight, and Cecil already knows he needs to get there as soon as possible, the pressure of this large event gone un-reported already near-unbearable. He herds his crew back towards the van waiting for them, weaving between ambulances and crying huddles of civilians and ominous black-hooded figures. Across the parking lot, Cecil spots Carlos doing much the same for his group of scientists, and for a wild moment he considers running across the asphalt, asking again, hoping that this time a mutant cactus wouldn't arrive and just... ruin everything.
One of the interns gets the van going, and Cecil dutifully hops in, slamming the door shuts as the tires screech against asphalt.
