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Aug. 4th, 2013 02:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
binaries[ driving in the dark isn't irie shouichi's strongest point. so after the accidental vehicular slaughter of three or so armadillos, mukuro wrestles him out of the driver's seat and into the back. these desert roads are only illuminated by moonlight and appear to be otherwise stranded. for the most part, shouichi cannot decide if he's relaxed or creeped out by it. it's completely desolate, after all. an introvert's wet dream. perhaps the overall spooky tone set by the atmosphere is why neither of them truly notice what happens next until it's too late.
in retrospect, shouichi assumes it was when the car stereo turned on by itself, even though it had been broken just earlier that day after a spat over the contents of the cassette tape deck. the crackle and pop of static sends a tingle down both of their spines, accompanied by a shiver. it continues to crackle and sputter while numbers roll by, scanning on its own for a signal. shouichi and mukuro brush it off, assuming there's some freaky magnet experiments going on or something. americans love to do inane experiments out in the desert, don't they? perhaps they're getting close to that roswell, new mexico or whatever it's called. the one with the ancient aliens or something.
when they drive past three armadillo carcasses, they both vaguely wonder if they've been here before.
but that was hours ago. and dead armadillos weren't exactly difficult to come by in these parts. it had to be a coincidence. it was a coincidence; it was -- is that a glowing cloud? in an otherwise cloudless sky? in the middle of the night? perhaps there would have been more questions to be silently wondered and stammered out in particles that didn't resemble coherent language, but the radio seems to have finally tuned in to something.
and then the cloud dropped what appeared to be a flurry of dead, mid-sized animals onto their car.
the last thing shouichi remembers clearly is the sound of the tires squealing. ]
in retrospect, shouichi assumes it was when the car stereo turned on by itself, even though it had been broken just earlier that day after a spat over the contents of the cassette tape deck. the crackle and pop of static sends a tingle down both of their spines, accompanied by a shiver. it continues to crackle and sputter while numbers roll by, scanning on its own for a signal. shouichi and mukuro brush it off, assuming there's some freaky magnet experiments going on or something. americans love to do inane experiments out in the desert, don't they? perhaps they're getting close to that roswell, new mexico or whatever it's called. the one with the ancient aliens or something.
when they drive past three armadillo carcasses, they both vaguely wonder if they've been here before.
but that was hours ago. and dead armadillos weren't exactly difficult to come by in these parts. it had to be a coincidence. it was a coincidence; it was -- is that a glowing cloud? in an otherwise cloudless sky? in the middle of the night? perhaps there would have been more questions to be silently wondered and stammered out in particles that didn't resemble coherent language, but the radio seems to have finally tuned in to something.
the desert seems vast; even endless. and yet, scientists tell us that somewhere, even now, there is snow.
welcome to night vale.
welcome to night vale.
and then the cloud dropped what appeared to be a flurry of dead, mid-sized animals onto their car.
the last thing shouichi remembers clearly is the sound of the tires squealing. ]
