Post by Bergamot Gristleborg on Sept 1, 2023 0:07:46 GMT 9
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The sky around the aircraft was suffused with smoke, the traces of distant wildfires. It reflected a hazy red across the wings of the plane as it coasted to a halt on the tarmac. Chryssa sat still in her seat as the other passengers on the plane leapt into activity, crowding the aisle in a single-file line as they jostled for the exit. Stewardesses rained chipper farewells upon uncaring ears. Thank you for flying United Airlines. Thank you for flying United Airlines. Thank you for-
Chryssa sat patiently, gazing out the window with eyes as gray as ghosts. There was no reason to rush. She'd be the last one off the plane, anyway.
"Are you ready to go, Miss Glasgow?" the voice came from the aisle. Chryssa glanced at the person - they were in the airport's uniform, and they had a wheelchair with them. An aide sent to assist her off the plane. A convenient pawn sent to do her bidding-- or that's what Morgana would think, anyway. For Chryssa, people like this were nothing. NPCs, faceless and pointless, existing only to transport her from one scene to another.
"It's fine- I'll just walk," Chryssa said casually, waving the aide back. She made as if to get up out of the seat, then froze. Her eyes widened and she patted her legs frantically, like someone who'd just lost their keys. "Gasp! Aide, something's wrong! I can't stand up from this chair! It's almost as if... as if..."
"You shouldn't joke about things like that," the aide rebuked her as they lifted her up, light as a doll, and carefully placed her in the chair.
"Twas a meme," declared Chryssa airily, unfazed, then reached down and easily disengaged the safety brake herself. "You shouldn't try to make small talk with me if you're not ready to be shocked and amazed. Oh, don't worry, it's not like I'll be around that long anyway." She rolled down the ramp, perfectly in control, and set off towards the gate.
She wasn't just talking about the airport.
There was something off about Chryssa. She had the look of a fruit which had gone a day too long without being eaten, a sense of subtle wrongness. A bomb whose countdown had hit 0. An audio clip that kept on playing even after its app was closed. A dream that you never quite forgot, even when you woke up; like a stranger lingering just a little too long outside your house, or a childhood memory that couldn't be erased. She felt like an A+ you hadn't earned. She evoked a subtle guilt in the world, as if her very existence was a secret that God would rather leave forgotten.
Now, where is that uncle of mine, Chryssa thought, scanning the heads in the crowd. There-- impossible to miss. Red hair, red beard and all. She would have liked to sneak up on him, but a head-on approach would do for now.
Of everyone in this world, Buzzster Hooperham was the most important to her.
"That big head of yours certainly stands out," the girl said from her seat, tossing him an oversized carry-on bag that clanked and jingled like it was full of skis and windchimes. It probably was - she'd packed it specifically to draw attention to herself and inconvenience as many airport staff as possible. "I was beginning to think you'd never arrive. I'd have to sing on the streets for my dinner."
Her eyes gleamed, as if she thought she might not mind that so much.
"By the way, what do you say we decide today's activities with a little wager? I have a few requests I'd like to make." Her tone implied they were not requests her uncle would like.
