(( OOC Note: I wrote this last year, as a story for my nanomage NT, and posted it on the forums for his org--I didn't even really consider putting it here in the Buzz because... well, to me at least, the story's funnier if you actually know the character and his nuances/personality.
Since the original posting, though, it's gotten some good feedback and a *whole* bunch of requests (mostly from one person and yes I'm looking directly at you here) for me to post it on the public AO forums. So here you go. Just remember that Kit, despite being extremely intelligent, is also rather... well, dense. Seems to be a recurring theme in my characters.
Prior to this story, our intrepid nanotechnician was given a twig of mistletoe by a dear female friend (Nailbunny), and found himself quite unsure what it meant--Particularly after she hung it over his head, then pouted off after he did nothing but gave her a confused look. This is his journey.
Oh yeah. And Kit speaks with a rather dry British accent. Long story. But it's funnier if you read the lines that way. ))
A stiff wind blew over his arms and hands, penetrating the soft cloth of his robe. "As though the damnable thing wasn't chilly enough already," he muttered to himself, tucking one hand underneath his arm for warmth.
His eyes fixated on the other hand--Or, more importantly, what was located within; a small sprig of green leaves, two tiny red berries jutting from beside the twig. His mouth curled into a frown as he stared downward towards them, brow furrowed in puzzlement.
"Such a small bit of greenery. Relatively useless in all forms and fashions save decor. What the devil did she mean by it?"
Slumping, the tops his his shoulders found a nearby wall, sinking back against the cobblestone surface for support in his frustration. His mouth twisted one way, then another, before finally resigning once more to the curious frown.
"Perhaps some ancient custom of friendship," he pondered, twirling the twig gently between his fingers. "A sign of sharing?" Idly he glanced down to his cyberdeck, checking the display screen--In one corner, a small bar showed progress on the data search he had initialized, checking through all known libraries for mentions of the plant cross-referenced with ancient customs. As of yet, no returns.
At that moment, two very important things occoured. The first being that a tall, attractive, and very well-dressed (or slightly dressed, depending on the viewpoint) female stepped out of the Cup's doors. The second was the odd bit of firing between synapses in Kit's brain, causing him to take notice of the young woman.
"Miss! Miss!" he called out, standing straight from his position on the wall. The young woman turned slowly, blonde hair trailing across her shoulders as she shot him a curious glance.
"Miss! Miss, pardon me," he said, as he came closer, keeping the tiny branch tucked out of sight within the metal frame of his cyberdeck.
"Madame, I do wish to apologize for disrupting your day, but I was won--" His words were cut off as a purple glow began to overtake her hands, weaving in and out as they strung together tiny chains of nanobots.
"No, no--No no, not in need of a composite buff, though the offer is highly appreciated. I was rather hoping you might could help me with a different matter."
Her head tilted to one side, brow furrowed and still silent, before offering a shrug. Without another word, Kit thrust his hand upwards, dangling the mistletoe above her head.
---------------
The warm cup of tea provided very little comfort to his mind, nor to the rather large red hand print that spread across his cheek. He sank back into the familiar worn leather of the Cup's sole couch, and rested his hand upon the curled fingers of his deck.
"Well *that* certainly could have gone better," he muttered, still fighting the constant sting against his face.
"I simply do not understand," he said with a sigh, peering across his teacup to the green leaves that sat before him. "Perhaps the entire nature of this damnable plant is to cause offense? I cannot think of why madame Bunny would have wished me to slap her across the cheek... unless it is some form of bonding ritual. Perhaps she wished to initiate some test of strength? Granted, that would be ludicrous--I could not hold a candle to her in any way, shape, or form. A slap from her would most likely send me across the *room*."
With a growl of frustration, he straightened from the couch, placing the teacup down against the table.
"This demands further testing, to be sure." At that, he stood, retrieving the mistletoe once more and aiming himself straight for the exit.
---------------
"LOOKING FOR COMBATANT WITH PERSONAL SUPPRESSION GAS LEVELS DISABLED AND OF APPROXIMATELY CLEARANCE LEVEL ONE-HUNDRED-AND-TWENTY-FIVE TO ATTEMPT FURTHER TESTING OF SCIENTIFIC HYPOTHESIS!!! ENFORCERS, SCOUTS, PROFESSIONAL SOLDIERS, MARTIAL ARTISTS, SHADES, KEEPERS, AND ANY FORM OF ATROX NEED NOT APPLY!!!"
Clearing his throat he glanced about, nodding to himself as he looked around. Surely within the sea of people atop Old Athens Hill, there would be *someone* who could answer the call.
Indeed, without having to wait for very long at all, his cyberdeck flashed a soft blue, indicating the receival of a new private message. With a smile on his face he tapped against the interface, looking at the text.
"hi u wan pvp 25%?" Kit's brow furrowed for a moment, a bit lost in the unfamiliar words. Luckily, seconds later, the cyberdeck's automatic translation function kicked in, putting the message into a more readable "Greetings, would you care to dual to the near-death?"
"Ah, right, well," he said to himself, before tapping in a response. After a few moments of typing (and translation), a rather ragged looking nanomage engineer made a line directly for him, somewhat of a glazed expression in his eyes.
"k u wana pvp now?" the young engineer said, causing Kit's face to drop.
"Dear fates, you... wait, what?" he said, the confusion palpable across his expression.
"lol u wan pvp u jus pres q u rdy?"
"Erm... erhh... pardon me, but I'm a bit rusty on my... er, well, my 'jargon'." His throat cleared, before tucking his hands behind his back. "Kay. You an me no Pee Vee Pee to two-five percent. You help me with exp.. er... some-ting. Kay?"
"o lol k wut u ned?"
"Right, well, glad to see that the common language hasn't been *totally* dismantled," he mumbled, before pulling the sprig of mistletoe from a pouch at his waist. "All you do is take.. er... 'dis'... and hold over my head. Kay?"
"omglol dud r u ghey???"
"Gay?! Well, I most certainly am not! ... not that there is anything wrong with the lifestyle choice, merely stating th--Oh, bollocks, would you just take the bloody thing?!"
"lol" With that the bedraggled engineer took the bit of leaves and berries from Kiteran's hand, dangling it above his head. Nodding, Kiteran reared back... and let loose with a mighty slap.
---------------
Roughly half an hour later at his apartment, he noticed that the signs of resurrection sickness were beginning to wear off. Most notably the stinging sensation had left his cheek, and there didn't seem to be any other permanent damage taken. Luckily, in all the ruckus, he had managed to avoid the stampede of very eager clansmen and snatched his mistletoe back before getting waylaid by a pair of enforcers.
He collapsed onto his bed, the mistletoe falling directly beside him. His head slowly turned to face it, eyes impassive and tired. It had been a long day, all starting with a simple visit from Bunny.
"Apparently," he said quietly, hands folded over his chest, "you are quite the powerful little twig afterall. You offend the user... you offend those being used upon... and for some reason, you cause others to question the bearer's sexuality."
Shifting his body, he turned to face it completely, mouth slowly turning into a frown as frustration entered his voice. "You have caused me to be slapped... to be beaten by a rather large group of 'Pee Vee Pee'ers... and perhaps above all else, you have eluded my every single attempt to discover precisely WHAT THE DEVIL YOU ARE!!!"
His hand lashed out quickly, grabbing the twig and throttling it above his body as though it were a person--A living, breathing entity of frustration and conundrums. He shook with utter rage, repressing the urge to scream mindlessly at the leaves... before realizing that the flora could really care less about being choked to death, and in reality hadn't heard a single word of his conversation with it. Resigned, both his hand and the mistletoe fell to his chest.
Tired and weary, sleep slowly began to overtake his eyes and mind, lids closing shut in a frustration-fueled daze. From nearby, on a dresser, he heard a slight beep come from his cyberdeck, indicating some form of new message.
"Oh, to the hells with it," he muttered, tossing the mistletoe onto the cabinet beside his deck. "Deck, remove all current searches and set message list to purge. I shant be bothered with this any further." And at that he turned, still fully clothed, curling up gently on his mattress.
Only a few feet away, the cyberdeck's blue glow began to dim. The searches were terminated, and the most recent message set to purge within the hour. And on the display, the only message recieved read "Search result returned: One hit. Ancient custom. Tradition for couples to kiss when underneath a branch of mistletoe."
But Kit was already fast asleep, the message never seen. And he dreamt of mistletoe dangled over his head.
))
