THE GOTTALA JELEBELLIOS

[capemods]

WHO: ImPorts.
WHERE: Gottala Jelebellios of TíraFórsae.
WHEN: April 21st 2013 noon to April 25th 11:59 PM.
WARNINGS: Possible violence, gore. Possible sexual situations.
SUMMARY: Off-world adventure on EARTH KLADSUO834LKSFDLKJ8718=LAJD
FORMAT: Whatever.



[Now THIS is the Big Clam of all Gottalas! This is the city-ship that any mothership would be most proud of, this is the peak of the elite fleet. Housing 90,000 classy individuals, Jelebellios is the size of what natives might remember to be land-locked nations.

Everything in Jelebellios is glamorous, everything is about living high and infamously. This is the Gottala that those who MAKE it can upgrade to -- for those of a more middling class, it's an ideal vacation spot. Something to wistfully sigh over, perhaps.

The food is the best here, they have RUNNING FRESH WATER in every room, they have forums with fountains (that often spew champagne) and opera houses with mobile skylight viewing. Jelebellios, in the more prestigious avenues, is literally paved with gold.

But the superficial is invoked into art form here -- and more than that, entertainment is a way of life. Quite literally, the only living on Jelebellios. While mundane trading for FOOD or WATER or BORING CHUNKS OF GOLD might satisfy the plebs that other Gottalas have, if you're a citizen (or guest!) of JELEBELLIOS there's only one tender.

And it's tender as the night.

Because tender refers to physical affection. So if you want food or water or dazzling clothing or anything, you better look your cutest and pucker up.]

Comments

DAY 1

[capemods]

[Oh, my, look at you! Some precious novelty from another dimension -- yes, the Tiriseans are on the up in up in that regard, and a curious mind might wonder how they seem so familiar with the concept of a multiverse. If you ask one, in your rudimentary way, by pointing to yourself, they'll answer:

"Ruo, fwhy’foo’eyew~eaye’barr’feeuh~foo’eeff’eeff~bdubya’foo’barr’gell’ddee. Gvee’eyew’gell’bsea’eaye’dehn’eyew’dess~foo’epee’feeuh’dehn’feeuh’ddee~ftee’baich’feeuh~bem’eyew’gell’ftee’dai’gvee’feeuh’barr’dess’feeuh."

To which you might look bemused, to which they might find endearing. But your novelty will wear thin: better learn the customs quick, especially in terms of how TRADE is done, or you'll be carted off to their prison. If you're affectionate towards your patrons, they'll keep giving you food and pretty clothes and warm shelter.

If you're not, they'll call you aedako.]

[motherflocker]

[ Oswald Cobblepot was no stupid man. If anything, he was a very intelligent man, and finding himself somewhere he shouldn't be (with merely his still very well fitted tuxedo) wasn't what he'd imagine he'd be doing for the evening. If anything, he'd had rather important plans that shouldn't have been interrupted.

But, alas, they were, and he was hearing something that sounded more like music than words, and people that he hardly believed were really people.

But he was observant, and the Penguin did not fare too badly in situations where he needed to observe, and then do as others did.

In all actuality, he did rather well at such things, and seeing what there was to offer? Well, he could do that too, and he knew the language of trade, and could recognize the sort of thing soon enough. Within a few hours, actually. ]

open:

[enigmaestro]

One moment, anticipating. His fingers flexing, about to delve into his salmon (and martini) luncheon, his mind racing on proposals and counterarguments for the sake of his newborn legislation (it came a bit premature, the poor dear, but Eddie would force it into life). One moment, enjoying.

The next, soaking. On his hands and knees in a fountain of flowing champagne.

The alcohol draped over him and his shoulders, a spontaneous lover.

Edward Nygma looked up, the horror flushing over his face through tawny-tinted liquid. His lower lip dangled, like a man hanging onto a skyscraper ledge, and his eyes swelled with quiet panic.

This was not the City.

This was like no world he had known.

Buildings tall like marbled clouds soared over his gilded fountain, strange pink gulls swooped in and out and around pristine white arches. There were homes like cathedrals. There were people with much too long limbs and nautical smiles.

"How could you do this to me?" A rhetorical question posed to a mechanical mistress who wouldn't hear him. How could she do this to him?

He had a deadline.

[governorkang]

One minute, Kang was on the job site at work, finishing up putting a load-bearing beam in place. The next, he was standing in front of a fountain that smelled distinctly like an alcoholic beverage of some sort, in an entirely different city. He gaped at his surroundings for a moment, confused, and instinctively put a hand to his belt to find that he had nothing he could use as a weapon if he needed to.

He also noticed a man he recognized from the City in the fountain itself.

"What the hell is going on?"

[enigmaestro]

"That, my friend, is a fine query indeed." Eddie stood, his blazer soaked and dripping. With one hand he slicked back the champagne supernova in his hair, flushing out as one would water from a shower. Sighing, he glanced down at his own form, his suit now the very wet dream of an underage-would-be-Gatsbian.

"Were you, I wonder, at Metricog last? Because such is really the only recent example I've suffered of such --" he glanced around. "Dramatic scenery changes."

[governorkang]

"No, I wasn't, but a friend of mine was. You think it's another one of those situations?" Kang ran a hand through his hair, watching a group of Tiriseans walk by. Whatever language they were speaking, he had no idea what they were saying. "Looks like it. I hope at least some of them speak Common." Belatedly, he added, "Or English."

[idkmybffjesus]

Someone is a fast learner, here. (It comes with the territory of making three world-hops in about two months.) He's gained his feet pretty fast, asked a few questions of the weird-but-charming locals, and is generally okay with this. This leaves him free to mock any fellow transplants (of which it's pretty novel to have, this time around), and that is exactly what he intends to do in the near future.

In fact, there's a likely target now.

He's standing, dry and pleased, just outside the fountain, grinning. What a welcome sight, this deputy mayor.

"Fwhy'foo'eyew~gell'foo'foo'ekay~gell'dai'ekay'feeuh~dess'baich'dai'ftee," he says, winningly. Just because he can.

[enigmaestro]

Eddie

"Bless you," he said, his words venom from an asp. Eddie knew it was somehow an insult -- this fellow had already confessed his "invention" of sarcasm, and that smile belied foul intent. Eddie was, after all, a fast learner too -- and he watched the body language of the other man. Biff had not come as a friend.

But Eddie's focus zeroed in at the ease of which the fellow spoke. Eddie knew he heard similar sounds, from whispering locals. There was something so highly uncomfortable about the situation, however: it was more than the (clearly) nonsense that Biff spoke, more than the grasp on the sounds. It was the inflection he wielded. Dimensional understanding.

"You son of a-- " Eddie threw his hands to the sky, tossing a momentary champagne halo above his head. "Linguistic powers. Probably not the best use of your tongue."

Ire bubbled down his spine, filling his venom with innuendo as release. He moved on towards his point --

"You've been out and about already," Eddie said dryly. This was his aimed deduction, the staggering accusation: "Among them. And they haven't killed you, and I doubt I'm not one of the first you've encountered -- the same reasoning being, of course, that you're still breathing." A beat.

"We're in a world filled with people who are like you, aren't we?"

His luck ran so very true.

[motherflocker]

If there were ever a person he could seek out to find answers, especially to questions he wasn't certain he knew yet, it would be the figure forever dressed in green. Now, that didn't mean Oswald was looking for his former compatriot in the battle against Batman, and nor did he expect to find them, but when his eyes lit on the suit (although it looked rumpled and wet), he could feel at least a smile of some satisfaction cross his face.

It was midday, and Oswald had at least, by now, learned that there was a way to get by. He could speak the language of trade, even if their musical notes and tones were far beyond him. He was in the middle of a rather fluid session of showing what he (hoped) was a feminine being precisely how lovely their (her?) face looked by stroking it, which rewarded him with a small delectable. Street food, he was afraid, but he figured he could work his way up as the day progressed.

As it was, when he had what he wanted, he trundled away, the umbrella he usually carried suspiciously missing. It was across a courtyard that he strutted, his voice rising just slightly.

"Take a bit of a dip already?"

[enigmaestro]

"Isn't it usually the penguin that devours the fish?" Eddie tilted back his head, his eyes creating a coy and skeptical glance. He had witnessed that Tirisean individual feed his good friend Ozzie, as Eddie was especially observant when bathed in champagne. One had to be.

"Goodness, Oswald, you're making friends already."

Very pointed, very crisp syllables invoked. Eddie wasn't a man too eager for smalltalk, as it was in the moment, but he found common ground in trading subtle barbs. And who better to indulge than one of the few Gothamites who ever attempted to properly understand the Riddler? Nevertheless, Eddie's attention was soon back on himself, as peeled off his jacket to string it dry.

THAT EVENING

[amoray]

He'd made it a little harder on himself than he needed to, when he'd first reacted to the almost-aquatic natives with flashed fangs and fanned fins. Still, hours after he'd arrived and figured out their tacky monetary system, or whatever passed for one, Eridan found it difficult to play ball. Filthy quasiroyals. Freakish mutants.

But disgust quailed in the face of discomfort, particularly for an individual so used to pampering, and so he found himself airkissing many an affluent cheek and passing off thin, warmish smiles all around. Even weathered a little attention over his more nautical features, because desperate times called for desperate measures, and he wasn't exactly going to risk the seas around this gilded hellhole. Couldn't understand a goddamn word out of their wannabe saltsuckin mouths, didn't care what came out of them anyway — just knew that his powers were out of whack (their hopes wouldn't show and he couldn't force control over them, and that was more unsettling than he would've liked to admit), and that he didn't like how they looked at him, this superior creature, the sleek killin machine that he was. Not that he blamed them. Sad gillless sons of bitches.

By the time he found his way to the rock garden, well fed and dressed in waves of purple, Eridan had long since given up on seeing anybody he knew. (On a ship of this size, he'd be lucky if he found any other ImPort period. Much less his favorite ones.) And so catching a blur of green in his peripheral midway through kissing every dainty knuckle of a Tirisean woman's hand, that was... a mixture of things. Relief, and gladness, faint fear, and that familiar loathing burning deep down in his gut like the good whiskey he'd been enjoying seconds prior to his impromptu dose of universal shenanigans.

"Edward."

Nygma. They both had terrible luck when it came to trans-universal field trips, didn't they? The woman immediately lost his interest, and Eridan breezed past her to seek out the attention of his favorite mentor, and newest Jelebellios buddy.

"How you been this fine ewenin'? 'Cos mine's kinda been a flippin' floppin' fest of fuck, pardon the language and all them rude insinuations I know you're gearin' up to make."

[enigmaestro]

"Why, Eridan Ampora." In peculiar contrast to Eridan's experience, Eddie had frequently found himself amidst imPorts. That security had, in some sense, gilt the veneer of his confidence -- after all, he wasn't alone in a sea of humanlike aliens. He didn't have to suffer that in the way that Eridan did every day.

Their respective arrivals suited their usual protocol, however unfortunate the entire endeavor might have been.

"I must say, I'm surprised to see you so distressed." He had learned the currency, too: Eddie had abandoned his champagne stained wardrobe sharply pressed dark green trousers and a streamlined doublet-like thing. He had worked quite well to achieve such ends.

"One might think you'd thrive in this environment, given the -- ah -- spectacle it offers."

OPEN

[acrossyourpath]

She hadn't been there long, of course, but it didn't take long to recognize that wherever this place was, it was somewhere with both esteem and influence. She spent some time seeing, mystified and quite enamored with the golden streets, though the patrons (residents?) got on her nerves rather quickly.

That was, until one brought her a soft, silky white coat after she'd blown them a kiss to send them off on their way, and she could never begrudge a gift.

She settled by the fountain, resting her feet. If that was all it took around here, Felicia thought she might do well, indeed.

[enigmaestro]

"Felicia!" Eddie came up from behind, having caught sight of Felicia's windcaught hair a street away. "Felicia, look at me!"

Eddie was, thankfully, drier at this point. He stopped short of her, issuing out tight breaths.

"Who gave you that?" He inquired, pointing at the white coat with a touch of disdain.

[acrossyourpath]

"Edward. There you are," Felicia said, turning, as if she'd expected to find him. Not that she had, but that was beside the point -- this was a good thing, not bad. She leaned close to kiss him on his cheek, standing on slight tiptoe.

"Oh, this?" She fluffed it coyly. "Do you like it?"

Open!

[governorkang]

Kang had learned pretty quickly how the trade system in Jelebellios worked despite the language barrier, and he hated it. He hated it so much that so far, he hadn't eaten or drunk anything for several hours and he was content to wait as long as he possibly could.

He was starting to get a little bit of negative attention from the locals, though, and he'd passed someone that had muttered "aedako" in an unkind tone upon seeing him very uncomfortably turn down an offer (a kiss) for a drink.

[invoking]

[ And nobody should be surprised one of the City's least physically affectionate is refusing to tend to his caterers with any sort of kissing or touching. He raises his hands and shakes his heads, trying to explain he doesn't need anything. ] No... I'm fine... Thank you, though?

[ The patrons are hardly pleased by his refusal and they exchange looks before hissing aedako! at him. ]

A -- what? I'm sorry?

open!

[idkmybffjesus]

[ Well, this is weird. But really, when you've been jolted two thousand years into the future, and then thirteen more years into the future and into an alternate dimension, and then barely three weeks later into another alternate dimension... well, really, you sort of just learn to go with the flow.

At least these people are nice. And they have their share of beautiful women, who all seem really welcoming, so Biff? Biff has no problems with this. None of it. He can be found comfortably chatting up the locals (what linguistic challenges? Gift of Tongues, baby), uncomfortably turning away a man here and there, and lavishing affection on anyone of the fairer gender.

Really, he's either going to end up the richest guy on this boat, or inundate all women with his attention to the point that they're sick of him. It could go either way. ]

I'm never going back to New York. [ An idle comment, met with a "Bdubya'baich'eaye'ftee?" from his current lady companion, to which he tosses out a breezy: ] Foo'baich, dehn'foo'ftee'baich'dai'dehn'ggee.

[bloodshadow]

Hey! Translator boy!

[Nanaja is sauntering toward him with one part adoring fans clinging to her and two parts grumbling scorned traders following a safe distance behind her. If Nanaja is good at only two things in life, then it's violence and sex, and she's putting both to good use here. The more attractive Jelebelliosians of both genders are welcomed, but the less so are smacked away with her tail.]

What the fuck is this shit they keep saying?

[idkmybffjesus]

[ Biff takes a good moment just to appreciate how much more terrifying/attractive the creepy demon lady is in person, then offers a smile, and points to one of her hanger-ons. ]

That guy wants you to do unspeakable things to him with your tail.

[ It could be true. There's no telling for sure from this here-to-be-helpful smile. ]

[rocksforbrains]

[This wasn't the first time - or second or even third - Santo had been vomited up by cosmic forces into an alternate world, but so far? This was definitely the best one of those so far. For once, being a giant rock man has gotten him a lot of attention in a good way right off the bat, and there's women (and men which is a little weird) a plenty trying to run hands over him.

It's when they start trying to lock lips that he actually gets uncomfortable. For maybe the first time ever.]

Uh, nah, I'm good. I kinda-there's a thing and I've got a girlfriend and uh-okay, you can stop any time! Damn. I really wish you guys didn't speak watergibberish or whatever.

OPEN

[cawky]

[It doesn't take long for Davesprite to completely fail at everything Jelebellios. He wasn't about to say no to free goodies, until the residents got way too touchy feely with him. It was hard enough to avoid glances, now that his powers were malfunctioning. His image constantly glitched, but for the most part he was firmly stuck in his bright orange birdghost splendor.

A particularly insistant local seems to have cornered him, hissing aedako! feverently while Davesprite tries to wipe his mouth on the back of his arm. Fish kisses. Completely nasty. Helplessly, Davesprite has raised his clawed hands, still decorated with several golden bands around his wrists. He's attracting a crowd quickly, glasses slipping down his nose as he starts to sweat nervously. He could fly--but if anyone shot him out of the sky, he'd be in a lot of trouble.]

Dude, I don't speak spanish.

can't stop laughing over this

[ribbow]

Is that the language they're speaking?

[ Davesprite, you're so smart. ] I'm not very good at English, much less Spanish.

[namekian]

Piccolo understood and picked up on their form of trade fast.

Unfortunately, he didn't fancy it. He had pushed enough people away from himself that, well, he was carted off to this prison they had spoke gibberish about.

The Namek sat down at the corner of his cell, against the bars.

No food. Inadequate shelter... he grunted, closing his eyes as a guard would stop by every so often offering him in more gibberish a way to be released in which he turned a deaf ear to. Please let this be over.

open;

[ribbow]

[ Poor Madoka. First she loses her stalker friend, then her husband best friend, and now she's on some weird ship cornered by someone who wants to do what with her? Maybe if she just continues to explain that she's too young to be seen doing this and that her first kiss wasn't going to be given away so freely that maybe they'll leave her alone. That should work, right? When she finally has the courage to speak, she says something that she doesn't mean to just due to the tension weighing down on her. ]

It's Madoka not aedako. [ At least she manages to say that much in between a bout of tears. ]