[AW] [LCSS] like a dog without a bone
Cornhole Prompt Wrote:More boards have been set out, propped up and set at a fair distance apart. Paninya is juggling little sewn pouches filled with grain when she beams over and gestures for you to come and play her game.

'Cornhole! Or, perhaps, sack toss - awful names, right?' She laughs. 'To play, you stand behind that line, and try to toss one of these little bad boys into the hole at the opposite side - that's three points. If your li'l baggie here lands on the board? That's a point. Why not give it a shot?'

AW for one, dated for August 25th (Wednesday)!! :D someone come play cornhole with Viriiiiii

It had sure as hell felt good to get out of Casa for a while, as much as it was starting to grow on her — but Viridian had always taken issue with staying in one place for too long. Besides, there was some strange desire lingering in her heart to travel back over this way, even in the wake of all that had happened. Some self-destructive hope she'd see someone she knew, she reckoned, as much as she honestly didn't want to deal with it.

But the mutt had already avoided them like the plague when the Olympics rolled around, so she thought it was probably time to pony up and face the music if it came her way.

After all, if she hadn't come to Del Cenere, where else would she find quaint little games like this? Casa couldn't ever have this much fun.

"So I just gotta get it into the hole, huh?" she repeated skeptically, giving Paninya a side-long glance.

"That's all there is to it," the woman grinned, tossing the sack into the air and catching it again, "though you're going to need an opponent — unless you want me to blow you out of the water."

Viri's mouth curled into a smile of her own, and her tail wagged gently behind her.

"Is that so? I guess I have to try it, now." She stepped behind one of the boards, reaching down to feel the weight of one of the bean bags in her palm. After a long, pensive hum, she turned her head, catching sight of a curious onlooker for scarcely a second -- not looking him in the face nor recognizing him -- and accosting him with a loud (but fairly amicable) voice:

"Hey, you playing or not?"


sig by Raze
Tora had no interest in most of the Stockshow's offerings. There was little point in trying to show off his old mare, he wasn't a particularly good cook nor did he feel like tying his leg to someone else's and praying that they didn't cause him to trip. The lure chase was the only game that really seemed fun for him and that was open to children, not middle-age alcoholics with enough complexes to house an entire extended family. Just being forced to peace tie his weapons was almost enough for him to refuse to show up.

But he hadn't wanted Hokori to run off without some sort of backup. The girl was massive and strong, a true titan of the physical form. But (and Tora said this with nothing but love) she was also very very dumb. It would be just like her to overestimate her own capabilities and get her head caved in back by a gang of club wielding coyotes or pinned down and strangled to death by some random bandit in a bar brawl. She needed her father around, someone no less prone to starting fights over minor issues but much more experienced in winning them. 

At the very least he could mix business and pleasure. The opium he had gotten the Queen's blessing on producing was mixed and dried, carried discretely in little bundles to be handed out as needed. And John was in town, holding court at the Ugly Coyote as he always did. He'd join his wastrel friend later though, he had to at least try and appreciate the whole shebang the coyotes set out, if only to see how many of them squirmed at the sight of a full-blooded wolf. 

So he sidled on up the cornhole (blegh) board and somehow managed not to jump out of his skin at the sight of the wedding ruiner. "Hello Wither." The samurai said calmly, palming a beanbag and giving his favorite negator of nuptials a friendly smile. "It's been a while." 

He couldn't just turn around and leave, not when she had turned towards him like that. Tora was forced to stand and take a toss, bag landing just on the cusp of the hole but not quite in. "Crap."

Wordcount 387

Upon introspection, Viridian realized that certain thoughts had a power about them.

She had wished, once upon a time, that Rand would get his throat ripped out, and look what happened. Here, too, she vaguely and subtly and barely hinted to the idea of running into her past demons — low and behold, God himself plucked one and dropped him in front of her, silver platter and all.

When she looked back at the man, her once jovial expression deadened into something unreadable. Surprised, embarrassed, angry, he could take his pick.

Hearing her dead name caused her to cringe, and the Cavalier's shoulders jolted with a twitch, as if she'd been struck by lightning. Her throat was suspiciously dry when she tried to speak, and in a strained voice, she managed, at least, a lame greeting.

"Hey, Tora."

The sack felt cold in her hands all of a sudden, and she let it drop down onto the board.

"Yeah. It has." She could keenly feel Paninya's eyes on her, staring and questioning, but the hybrid chose to ignore it.

"And it's not... Wither, anymore. It's Viridian." There was no natural or comfortable way to phrase it; she just left it like it was.

She took up a different beanbag, which felt... heavier, and she rose an eyebrow at the Del Ceneren running the stall. "You sure these are all weighted the same?" But all she got was a mischievous shrug in response.

Still, she gave it a go, giving the bag a toss; using far too much power, as it sailed clean past the board.

"You might be bad, but you'll never be as bad as me," she smiled at him, though it was a mangled thing, grimacing and tense.

"... So, uh, how're things?"


sig by Raze
With how he was managing to keep his face looking friendly, Tora was earning himself a few drinks later. Wither's expression was more honest, some strange soup of general upsetness that about summed up their last couple of interactions. A prison visit was hardly a great way to say goodbye and there was no way they weren't both thinking of the Rand incident.

Christ. Woodsmoke, Wither, Yvonne, Inara and even Kalypso, why were all the women he was close to in some way reflections of his struggle with self-control and/or complicated relationship with violence? That sort of coincidence was enough to unnerve a man, especially because it wasn't the sort of problem that could ignored with help from a bottle. 

Tora watched the bag flop limply onto the board, grinding a bit of dirt under his foot as his kind-of sort-of adoptive daughter type figure corrected him. Viridian then, a new name to go with the new life she had thrown herself into. Fair enough. "Viridian. I like it, it's a pretty color." Not one that matched any part of her but who was he to judge? "I'll have to paint with it more now."

Her throw was just as crap as his had been. Tora took up another bag 'o' beans and tossed it lazily, sinking a perfect shot entirely through luck. "You got that right it seems." The samurai grinned triumphantly, egging his competitor on. 

'What a stupid fucking game.'

"Things are fine."

What the hell else was he supposed to say? Give her a breakdown of the guild's activities, a description of his daily routine? Perhaps explain in detail how he was selling drugs to whoever was in the market for them?

"I've missed you though." 

Oh, yeah. Being a good friend, telling her his honest feelings. That was probably better.

OOC: Wordcount 315
A half-laugh, half-sigh left her mouth before she could stop herself, and Viri's shoulders shrugged, useless and despondent, at his words. "I guess my mom liked that color, too," she said lamely. "Makes for kind of a shit name, though. But I guess I gotta like it if it's mine."

Not the most riveting of conversations, but what was she supposed to say? All the mutt could think about was how terrible she had felt in those first clear moments in the Underthing, when the full weight of her actions fell on her like a ton of bricks — a guilt that really hit home whenever Tora visited her there, wearing his shame clear on his face. It wavered in the light of the lone lantern the Reaver had brought along, but she could still see it now, the disappointment.

That had been the worst of it, really. Beyond Rand, beyond his awful, terrible, good-for-nothing existence that royally altered the trajectory of her own life, it had been the fact that she ruined perhaps the most important day of his and Kalypso's life, even if he had tried to downplay it later on.

"Yeah, I, uh... I missed you too, buddy."

Viridian swallowed, her voice paper thin and her throat dry.

"But, y'know, I got in with the Cavaliers," she informed him with a renewed vigor, as if this solved everything, scooping her arm in an upwards motion for a practice shot. "Casa di Cavalieri. I figured, I dunno, that maybe it was... a good idea to start over, and all that."

Tossing the bag, it landed on the board with a puff of dust and debris in its wake. Not in the hole, but better than nothing.

"How're the wife and kids? That girl of yours ever stop growing, or is she a proper giant now?"


sig by Raze

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