Jan. 21st, 2011

archaeatrix: (glyph close animation model)
Glyph enters the rec room carrying some light reading on Earth culture - Jazz had said they were called comic books. She's distracted by one fragile specimen, open between her digits, and not looking where she's going, when something squishes underfoot, with a squeak, and she loses her balance.

Comic books slide, from the stack, as she falls, and descend onto a floor covered in floppy fowl, with a cacophony of flaps and squeaks.

"Did I hurt anyone!?" Glyph cries in a panic, afraid she's injured some human ally. She lifts one of the rubber chickens, and quickly analyzes with archaeometrical skill, "A decoy? Composed of rubber. Decorated with acrylic pigments."

She looks around; she's sitting on the floor of a room filled with thousands of these elastic avians. "Is this supposed to be a joke? I find this fairly foul humor-!" Glyph processes what she just said. "Fowl humor?" She starts to laugh. "Fowl humor!" She's ridiculously happy to have understood a pun from an alien language!

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Glyph

January 2011

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