Percy and Goody, backdated like whoa
Jun. 2nd, 2018 08:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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ax_mainAt the end-of-school party, Percy and Goody find they have plenty in common--including a love of bourbon.
Percy was having a great time. Much to his surprise, he apparently didn’t mind parties when they weren’t the kind he’d been forced to attend (if hiding in the library counted as attending) as a child. It was Vox Machina, he knew, that made the difference. They were loud and raucous, laughing and dancing and drinking like this party was the last and the most needed to be made of it. They were absolute heathens and Percy loved it.
As one song ended and another began, Percy released Vax to Vex with a kiss to his cheek and a promise to return with drinks. Leaving the two to dance or cause mischief, whichever came first, he maneuvered his way off the dance floor and to the snack table. Food in colors he didn’t know food came in, and a variety of drinks covered every possible inch of the table’s surface. Now he just needed to decided where to start... “Any recommendations?” he asked the boy loitering next to the table.
Goodnight, who was rocking his usual shabby-chic look with waistcoat and something very like a wild west cravat, looked the new arrival over with approval. "That waistcoat is charming, if you don't mind my saying. I always recommend bourbon. I think that one's Bulleit, if you want something decent.”
Percy smiled at the compliment, noting the other boy’s clothing with his own approval. “Thank you. Your taste is impeccable as well. May I ask where you got it?”
"The thrift shop in town," Goody supplied readily, then knocked a lot of bourbon in one pull. His cheeks were flushed slightly beneath the ever-present stubble, but he was still solid on his feet, which meant he had more work to do. "And you? I been looking for someone who knows the mysteries of waistcoat shopping 'round here.”
Percy had to laugh. “The thrift shop in town.” He started the process of pouring himself and the others drinks, going with the Bulleit since it had been recommended. There was very little Vox Machina wouldn’t drink, and then there was always Grog who’d down a pint of petrol if you told him it was ale. “I’ve had some luck in the city too when I can make it out that way. Though, I’m not sure I should be telling you that. We are competitors now, after all.”
"We'll have to branch out." Goody chuckled right back, watching with approval as Percy poured. "Head into the city where there's enough thrifting for all.
"Goodnight Robicheaux, late of Louisiana." Their hands being occupied, Goody gave a little nod and touched his forehead.
Percy inclined his head in turn. “Percival. Pleasure to meet you, Goodnight.” An interesting name to be sure, but Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the Third couldn’t really throw stones. “You’re relatively new to the school, aren’t you? How’re you finding it?”
"Like a knight of the Round Table," Goody mused at the name, obviously approving. "That's right. Billy, Cal, and I were recently liberated and brought here--and so far I like it well enough to stay. How long you been around?”
“Since September.” Percy took an experimental sip of the Bulleit and made a sound of approval. It would do the trick. He poured more into his cup. “I’ve liked it well enough to stick around. Granted, I was living in abandoned warehouse before this.”
"Well now, who knew we had more in common than fashion sense?" Goody raised his glass. "I, too, have occupied abandoned warehouses in my time. And this is most certainly a better way to live. So far. Depending on how militarized we're meant to end up.”
“My friends and I are reserving final judgement until we have a better idea of that.” Vox Machina was universally in agreement that if the school didn’t turn out to be what it claimed, they’d grab what they could and get out. “We’re not too keen on being child soldiers in someone else’s war.”
"Been there--nearly done that." Goody snorted out a laugh, looking as easy as if he'd been talking about last night's basketball game. "It's nice to find so many people here as wary as we are.
"Wait. Who's your we?”
Percy half-turned so he could point out everyone. “My boyfriend, Vax. His sister, Vex. Keyleth. Grog. Pike. And Scanlan.” They were an odd assortment no doubt. If the word ‘ragtag’ had ever embodied a group of people it was Vox Machina.
"And you all ended up here together," Goody looked impressed. "Boyfriend and all. Guess after living in an abandoned warehouse, y'all earned a little luck, huh?”
Percy watched his friends a moment longer, a soft smile on his face. “I would not have thought so, but, since meeting them, I can not believe otherwise.” He looked back to Goodnight. “And you? Have you found anyone to fall in with?”
"Me and Billy Rocks came out of the Facility knowing each other already. In fact, we made friends in there," Goody admitted easily, pointing with his chin in the general direction of Billy. He looked a damn fool, grinning like he was right there. It was fucking adorable. "Which ain't altogether easy to do.
"I'd say we fell in pretty easy, on the outside.”
Percy followed Goodnight’s gaze. “It’s good to have someone. In there, out here, wherever. They keep you going.” He took a sip of bourbon and his grin turned wryly amused. “And keep you in line.
“But, yes, if you’re ever in need of partners in paranoia, one of us is sure to indulge. Pike’s a bit more positive than the rest of us, and Grog’s not one for long, philosophical conversations, but they’re all good people.”
"Grog. That has to be the huge one, no?" Goody chuckled. "That name's almost as good as mine.”
With a smile, Percy looked to the giant of a boy who was currently double-fisting two very large cups of some kind of beer. “I’ve never known a person with a more fitting name.”
"I ain't sure if he'd be more the type to keep you in line or to need keepin' himself, though." Goody chuckled.
“We all do a little of both.” Vox Machina was good at balancing each other out.
Percy pointed to Scanlan. “He’s the one to watch out for, though. He’d sell you a bridge.”
"It's always the sweet-looking ones," Goody said solemnly before laughing. "I will keep my meager money to myself around him, then--and make sure to sell tickets if I see him swindling anyone else.”
“I’ll give you a heads-up. It’s a show you wouldn’t want to miss.” It was what had taught Percy that something could be both horrifying and hilarious at the same time. Scanlan, in his element and on a roll, was incredible to witness.
Percy topped off his drink, then gestured at Goody’s cup with the bottle in a wordless offer. “Where in Louisiana are you from if you don’t mind my asking?”
"Vacherie," Goody drawled, holding out his cup and nodding. "Home of endless, languid summer days draped in Spanish Moss and a disturbing penchant for romanticizing antebellum life.”
Up until the glorifying of the pre-Civil War South it had sounded as beautiful as its name. Not that Percy could judge. The aristocracy was built on honoring a past founded on the backs of others. “That’s a generous way of saying picturesque scenery and racism,” Percy said as he, having finished filling Goodnight’s cup, returned the bottle of Bulleit to the table.
"I like to use my words to evoke the imagination and logic of those blessed enough to listen," Goody said with a snort. "Oh, and we also got mosquitos that could stand flat-footed and fuck a chicken, down there.”
Percy needed to introduce Goodnight to Scanlan. He had a feeling they’d get on like a house on fire. “We already covered the picturesque scenery,” he joked.
"Ha! I like you! I already say that?" Goody raised his glass. "What about you? What part of England do you call home?”
Whitestone. Home of scenic countryside and snowcapped mountains, and a disturbing penchant for romanticizing the aristocracy. “I came here by way of London. It’s about what you’d expect from a two thousand year old city—Full of history and filthy.”
"My mama always wanted me to go to school there. Or Paris," Goody said thoughtfully. "But I fear my French is as tainted as my English.
"London. Romantic, though.”
“It had its moments.” Percy thought about Greyskull Keep and the family he’d found in Vox Machina, and he smiled. “Many of them.”
Goody raised his glass. "I'll drink to that.”
Percy raised his glass as well, then took a drink. To Vox Machina.
Percy was having a great time. Much to his surprise, he apparently didn’t mind parties when they weren’t the kind he’d been forced to attend (if hiding in the library counted as attending) as a child. It was Vox Machina, he knew, that made the difference. They were loud and raucous, laughing and dancing and drinking like this party was the last and the most needed to be made of it. They were absolute heathens and Percy loved it.
As one song ended and another began, Percy released Vax to Vex with a kiss to his cheek and a promise to return with drinks. Leaving the two to dance or cause mischief, whichever came first, he maneuvered his way off the dance floor and to the snack table. Food in colors he didn’t know food came in, and a variety of drinks covered every possible inch of the table’s surface. Now he just needed to decided where to start... “Any recommendations?” he asked the boy loitering next to the table.
Goodnight, who was rocking his usual shabby-chic look with waistcoat and something very like a wild west cravat, looked the new arrival over with approval. "That waistcoat is charming, if you don't mind my saying. I always recommend bourbon. I think that one's Bulleit, if you want something decent.”
Percy smiled at the compliment, noting the other boy’s clothing with his own approval. “Thank you. Your taste is impeccable as well. May I ask where you got it?”
"The thrift shop in town," Goody supplied readily, then knocked a lot of bourbon in one pull. His cheeks were flushed slightly beneath the ever-present stubble, but he was still solid on his feet, which meant he had more work to do. "And you? I been looking for someone who knows the mysteries of waistcoat shopping 'round here.”
Percy had to laugh. “The thrift shop in town.” He started the process of pouring himself and the others drinks, going with the Bulleit since it had been recommended. There was very little Vox Machina wouldn’t drink, and then there was always Grog who’d down a pint of petrol if you told him it was ale. “I’ve had some luck in the city too when I can make it out that way. Though, I’m not sure I should be telling you that. We are competitors now, after all.”
"We'll have to branch out." Goody chuckled right back, watching with approval as Percy poured. "Head into the city where there's enough thrifting for all.
"Goodnight Robicheaux, late of Louisiana." Their hands being occupied, Goody gave a little nod and touched his forehead.
Percy inclined his head in turn. “Percival. Pleasure to meet you, Goodnight.” An interesting name to be sure, but Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the Third couldn’t really throw stones. “You’re relatively new to the school, aren’t you? How’re you finding it?”
"Like a knight of the Round Table," Goody mused at the name, obviously approving. "That's right. Billy, Cal, and I were recently liberated and brought here--and so far I like it well enough to stay. How long you been around?”
“Since September.” Percy took an experimental sip of the Bulleit and made a sound of approval. It would do the trick. He poured more into his cup. “I’ve liked it well enough to stick around. Granted, I was living in abandoned warehouse before this.”
"Well now, who knew we had more in common than fashion sense?" Goody raised his glass. "I, too, have occupied abandoned warehouses in my time. And this is most certainly a better way to live. So far. Depending on how militarized we're meant to end up.”
“My friends and I are reserving final judgement until we have a better idea of that.” Vox Machina was universally in agreement that if the school didn’t turn out to be what it claimed, they’d grab what they could and get out. “We’re not too keen on being child soldiers in someone else’s war.”
"Been there--nearly done that." Goody snorted out a laugh, looking as easy as if he'd been talking about last night's basketball game. "It's nice to find so many people here as wary as we are.
"Wait. Who's your we?”
Percy half-turned so he could point out everyone. “My boyfriend, Vax. His sister, Vex. Keyleth. Grog. Pike. And Scanlan.” They were an odd assortment no doubt. If the word ‘ragtag’ had ever embodied a group of people it was Vox Machina.
"And you all ended up here together," Goody looked impressed. "Boyfriend and all. Guess after living in an abandoned warehouse, y'all earned a little luck, huh?”
Percy watched his friends a moment longer, a soft smile on his face. “I would not have thought so, but, since meeting them, I can not believe otherwise.” He looked back to Goodnight. “And you? Have you found anyone to fall in with?”
"Me and Billy Rocks came out of the Facility knowing each other already. In fact, we made friends in there," Goody admitted easily, pointing with his chin in the general direction of Billy. He looked a damn fool, grinning like he was right there. It was fucking adorable. "Which ain't altogether easy to do.
"I'd say we fell in pretty easy, on the outside.”
Percy followed Goodnight’s gaze. “It’s good to have someone. In there, out here, wherever. They keep you going.” He took a sip of bourbon and his grin turned wryly amused. “And keep you in line.
“But, yes, if you’re ever in need of partners in paranoia, one of us is sure to indulge. Pike’s a bit more positive than the rest of us, and Grog’s not one for long, philosophical conversations, but they’re all good people.”
"Grog. That has to be the huge one, no?" Goody chuckled. "That name's almost as good as mine.”
With a smile, Percy looked to the giant of a boy who was currently double-fisting two very large cups of some kind of beer. “I’ve never known a person with a more fitting name.”
"I ain't sure if he'd be more the type to keep you in line or to need keepin' himself, though." Goody chuckled.
“We all do a little of both.” Vox Machina was good at balancing each other out.
Percy pointed to Scanlan. “He’s the one to watch out for, though. He’d sell you a bridge.”
"It's always the sweet-looking ones," Goody said solemnly before laughing. "I will keep my meager money to myself around him, then--and make sure to sell tickets if I see him swindling anyone else.”
“I’ll give you a heads-up. It’s a show you wouldn’t want to miss.” It was what had taught Percy that something could be both horrifying and hilarious at the same time. Scanlan, in his element and on a roll, was incredible to witness.
Percy topped off his drink, then gestured at Goody’s cup with the bottle in a wordless offer. “Where in Louisiana are you from if you don’t mind my asking?”
"Vacherie," Goody drawled, holding out his cup and nodding. "Home of endless, languid summer days draped in Spanish Moss and a disturbing penchant for romanticizing antebellum life.”
Up until the glorifying of the pre-Civil War South it had sounded as beautiful as its name. Not that Percy could judge. The aristocracy was built on honoring a past founded on the backs of others. “That’s a generous way of saying picturesque scenery and racism,” Percy said as he, having finished filling Goodnight’s cup, returned the bottle of Bulleit to the table.
"I like to use my words to evoke the imagination and logic of those blessed enough to listen," Goody said with a snort. "Oh, and we also got mosquitos that could stand flat-footed and fuck a chicken, down there.”
Percy needed to introduce Goodnight to Scanlan. He had a feeling they’d get on like a house on fire. “We already covered the picturesque scenery,” he joked.
"Ha! I like you! I already say that?" Goody raised his glass. "What about you? What part of England do you call home?”
Whitestone. Home of scenic countryside and snowcapped mountains, and a disturbing penchant for romanticizing the aristocracy. “I came here by way of London. It’s about what you’d expect from a two thousand year old city—Full of history and filthy.”
"My mama always wanted me to go to school there. Or Paris," Goody said thoughtfully. "But I fear my French is as tainted as my English.
"London. Romantic, though.”
“It had its moments.” Percy thought about Greyskull Keep and the family he’d found in Vox Machina, and he smiled. “Many of them.”
Goody raised his glass. "I'll drink to that.”
Percy raised his glass as well, then took a drink. To Vox Machina.
