Red Vs. Blue is just a tabletop game where no one takes anything seriously

I talked about this w @bigbuffbarabutt forever ago and I can’t belive I never posted about it. 

  • Vic is the GM
  • Carolina and her serious tabletop group

  • Church is like her #edgy little brother who decides to start his OWN tabletop group with other kids on the block and it’ll be in SPACE and A MILLION TIMES BETTER THAN YOURS CAROLINA.

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August 23, 2016

@bluesrat - “Caboose brings Wash a sick/injured little animal. It’s pretty clear it won’t make it, but for Caboose he’s got to try anyway.”

Wash sat on the edge of his cot, buried his face in his hands and sighed.  He hadn’t slept all night, not since a red-eyed Caboose had knocked at his door and showed him the pitiful little mound that he held in his hands.

There had been a story, something long-winded, fractured and rambling that was probably intended to explain how Caboose had found this… thing… but Wash was lost halfway through the first sentence.  Still, that wasn’t the important part.  The important part was, “Please save him, Wash!”

How?  He had no idea what this creature even was.  It looked somewhere between an armored squirrel and a fur-covered cockroach, only he couldn’t see anything recognizable as a head, and there were two feathery things that could have been antennae, could have been tails - he just couldn’t tell.  

But then Caboose had tipped the limp little body into Wash’s bare hands, and looked at him, eyes pleading and so trusting, and Wash couldn’t find the words to say what he really didn’t want to say.  So he nodded, and Caboose left for the midnight patrol around the crash site with his heart lighter, while Wash’s sank through the floor.

The body had been deposited on the only table in his room, and Wash spent half an hour poking and prodding, offering water and leaves, still unsure if he was presenting them to a mouth or an ass.  He gave up as the little limbs stiffened, the fine reddish fur shed and the exposed skin dried and withered on the carcass with alarming speed.  He spent the rest of the night dreading the morning, alternating between nervous pacing and sitting on his bed, silently rehearsing the way that he was about to break Caboose’s heart.

Wash was frozen in his pose of exhaustion and hopelessness when there was was a frantic knock at his door.  He didn’t have time to do more than drop his hands before the door swung open.  Caboose barged in, head swiveling about before zeroing in on Wash’s table.  “Is he better?”  

As the larger man rushed past him, Wash reached out but was too slow to grab his arm, to hold him back.  Wash turned away as Caboose bent over the table.  “I’m sorry Caboose, I tried, but…” He cut off as Caboose cried out, and Wash grit his teeth, dropping his head to his chest.

“Wash, look!”

Wash’s head snapped back up at the tone of voice he had not expected.  “Wash!”  He stood and stared down numbly at the table, at first uncomprehending.  The carcass was still there, but shriveled, dry as paper and split open.  He bent closer and saw two  tiny paws clawing through the crack.  Caboose gently pulled away part of the shell or cocoon or whatever the hell it was and it disintegrated in his hand as the tiny creature emerged.  Wash’s breath caught in his throat.  It more closely resembled a mouse than a squirrel now, but still retained the look of armour beneath its fur.  It had grown back its feathery antennae-tails which were tightly curled, and arched over its back.  Then it stepped completely out of the shell and they could see the wings.

The creature shook them out behind it and Wash saw them set.  He had no other way to describe it.  One moment they were half-formed, soft and malleable, then with a flick, suddenly crystalline, sleek, falling somewhere between a dragonfly and a hummingbird.  A sheen of iridescence caught the light in a blaze of colour.  No, not iridescent - prismatic.  It was actually throwing bands of colour through the room, even in the weak artificial light.  Caboose’s face was a mess of rainbows, and by the delighted look he gave Wash, his own must be as well.  

Wash sat back down on his cot and watched Caboose hold out his hand.  The little rainbow-mouse-bug stepped into it, and the refracted light quaked across the walls with its movement, making Wash’s head spin.  Relieved exhaustion sank into his bones, and he felt grateful when Caboose left, too excited to remember to say goodbye.  Wash only had a couple hours left until dawn, but he slept easily and dreamed of cocoons and wings and second chances.

Author’s note - Sorry bluesrat - I was NOT making this sad.  Angst War is over, the poor bastard has suffered enough.  Let him have a little joy, a little rest!