onikins: (Neener-neener)
Onida "Oni" Girard ([personal profile] onikins) wrote in [community profile] sixwordstories2015-08-10 11:46 pm
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 We're here. Commence the belly achin'.
betarade_spill: (putting in work)

[personal profile] betarade_spill 2015-08-20 05:36 am (UTC)(link)
[Although his mouth was still sizzling, the habanero was growing on him. Korbinites LOVED the heat. Perhaps not this kind, but nevertheless...]

Ah, suffereth not gloom, Oni Girard! Beta Ray Bill shalt not meet his demise this day. And nor shall thee, withstanding that mine supper be unmolested upon mine return.

[He playfully chomped his room-clearing pearly-whites at her. Bill had certainly not meant to shame his hostess; as far as the alien was concerned, she was as sweet as the sugar cubes he himself was ashamed of enjoying. Perhaps he did see the best in people; perhaps it was part of what made him the hero that he is. For whatever her sins, she could show a weary warrior hospitality. Crouching down, Bill pulled free the large keg from under the bar (at their garçon's bewildered, belated behest). Although it was actually a wooden cask he was after, he realized such a thing was not forthcoming in this establishment and that he would have to make do.]

In spite of all! [Hoisting the keg up with one arm, like a toy, he dug his white-gloved trio of fingers into the top and peeled it open like a particularly easy soup can. The bartender gave up, shaking his head.] Not until this hogshead be overcome, canst we call this fête, fini!

[Opeongo or not, it was an Asgard party now. And a particularly devilish drinking game was creeping into the cyborg's mind...]
betarade_spill: (have at thee)

no simple apology can un-break my heart

[personal profile] betarade_spill 2015-08-21 09:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[As Bill circled around to the main dining area, he set down the keg he had opened. There were still at least 30 liters of beer left in it. Oni's exasperated coughs did not elude his scrutiny; he narrowed his eyes briefly to belie amusement. He'd warned her! As he placed the promised doubloon on the bar (it did not lay unswiped for long), he spotted the shack's broom hiding near the kitchen door.]

So eager, so eager...for thy thrashing. Take heed, for Beta Ray Bill cometh not to keg-stand, nay...but mayhap a minor diversion that hails all the way from the Burning Galaxy, mine homeland, Korbin.

[The chairs in the shack were perfect for his plans. They were the kind that stacked readily on one another, with flat-topped backs. Taking his chance to seize the broom from behind the bar, Bill quickly stacked two towers of chairs and laid the broom precariously across the tops of them. The reputations of Asgard and Canada were coming down to a game of Alco-Galactic Limbo!]

Verily, the ruse be uncomplicated. Bending oneself backward only, thou must maketh thy way under the bar, leaving it undisturb'd on its perch. Failing this, one must drink!

[It was not lost on Bill that someone more than a foot shorter than him, would have some advantage here. That may have even been the point. He had no intentions of going quietly into the night, however. But his brow furrowed in dissatisfaction.]

...how'ere. 'Tis not all well. We canst not proceed without a melody...
Edited 2015-08-21 21:42 (UTC)
betarade_spill: (have at thee)

this rather WOULD be a good opportunity for someone to threadjack

[personal profile] betarade_spill 2015-08-22 04:21 am (UTC)(link)
[Age before beauty, indeed. This concept amused him. Even after the lion's share of a millennium he could apparently still clear out the locals. Bill drifted back to the bar where his plate lie waiting, taking note that it had, in fact, been disturbed. Another chunk of habanero doused ratsnake disappeared into his eager beak; he dipped his pitcher into the keg and put to bed another liter of brew. If intoxication really had set in, it was apparently not slowing him down.]

Ah, this rhythm be satisfactory...

[Oni was talking some good old-fashioned smack, alright. The big alien simply nodded and let her hubris swell. Although he was underestimating her, and didn't know it, she was also underestimating him just a tad. Back on Korbin, the gravity was constantly shifting due to their multiple suns. He was a tough customer before he was ever a space horse that could whip Thor. This would prove an interesting contest. Bill watched her slink easily underneath an obstacle not terribly much shorter than herself.]

Hah! Bravo, Oni Girard.

[A quarter-ton of cyborg got into the cadence of the music and began easing his way under the bar. It was a sight to behold, for sure, as his upper body was nearly horizontal. But, as a bartender might ask, "Why the long face?" His snout brushed the bar and it clattered to the ground. Nevertheless, when he reset it, he lowered it by a chair.]

Alas, thou hast escaped unscathed this round. [Dutifully, he dunked his pitcher again and knocked out what must have been his seventh, eighth, or ninth liter of beer. Who's counting?]
betarade_spill: (Listening)

[personal profile] betarade_spill 2015-08-23 05:07 am (UTC)(link)
I pray thou trusteth this healer. Such allies, like a kind face, cannot be common.

[Thor's brother-from-another-galaxy was humming with the effects of the drink, but his inhuman physiology was coping well. He did seem ever so slightly unbalanced with his movements, but this was ultimately going to plan. The last son of Korbin was a shrewd tactician; having nourished Oni's competitive streak all the way into overconfidence, he had even gained her sympathy. Bill had, of course, intended to lose an early round. He'd gotten her to take her eye off the ball, and to take her second drink. Two, it seems, had sneaky schemes in this friendly game...but it was far from over.]

...thy tongue, I grasp at it, but perhaps such verbiage be more colorful than an unfamiliar face should adopt. N'er-the-less, I grieveth to see thee bobble a sure thing.

[He was, at least, sincere. As the music began to wind down, Bill made his hefty, ever-so-wobbly way over to the jukebox. It apparently had a radio function, to accompany the collection of vinyl within. He clicked it on, turning it to a station of static, and set his hammer upon it.]

Not much of a tinkerer, doth Bill be, but I am not without my craftiness yet. Behold, the music of my people.

[As his internal systems broadcast a signal, one normally reserved for communication with the Korbinite fleet, his enchanted hammer transmuted the energy of one kind into another: radio waves, which the jukebox received (after some searching on Stormbreaker's part). The long-lost funk of Korbin was, perhaps, not quite lost.]

[It was Bill's turn in Alco-Galactic Limbo, and he did just as he had before, showing a very impressive amount of balance and flexibility. As he stepped in time with the rhythm, the Korbinite funk pleasing him to his soul, his torso again craned back to almost horizontal. This time, however, he took Oni's advice and turned his head, leaving the broom handle untouched until he was beyond it. Another round complete; another layer of chairs lower. Twenty-something liters of beer to go.]
betarade_spill: (Listening)

[personal profile] betarade_spill 2015-08-24 04:53 am (UTC)(link)
[She had mentioned before that she probably understood what an oath-brother was. It seemed so, to Bill: he nodded in a moment of non-telepathic mind-reading. A bond beyond even blood, or perhaps, a bond borne of blood spilled together. His mind, growing hazier as the night progressed, drifted back to perhaps a dozen battles across as many worlds; times when his own limits had been reached, and other times when he'd been there to clinch a struggle for someone else. Her disdain brought him back to the present.]

Yea; vraiment, speaketh at thy leisure. How'ere, as I labor with a foreign tongue, mayhap I shouldst chooseth mine own words...judiciously.

[For he had no concern about how Oni chose to express herself, but in his ongoing attempt to absorb her language, he didn't think her most vivid vernacular was wise for him to imitate. It was already hard enough for an alien to be trusted, even when he was as modest as possible. In as much as it was possible for him to, he smirked, on his way to their nemesis (the broom-handle).]

As for thine, shalt we say, je m’en fous.

[Bill blinked rapidly at the low bridge before him, sidling up to it before backing off and deciding he needed yet another pitcher of beer to power him through. He dunked his 'mug', still dubious and impressed as to the size of such servings, and downed it one go. The large foreigner shook his head urgently, seemingly reinvigorated. He then thought he glimpsed her digging his jam.]

Thou cannot deceiveth Beta Ray Bill, Oni Girard. I spy thy revelry in the rhythms of Korbin!

[As the song was winding down, he concentrated very hard and managed to slink his big body under their makeshift limbo-bar. It was a good thing his knees were so hardy, because he had to tilt them inwards and slither with his feet to make it this time.]
Edited 2015-08-24 05:01 (UTC)