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The Hippielicious Abode of Sarien and her human, Dyb Ael. Goto Page: 1 2 [>] [»|]

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Dybael

PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 4:58 pm


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~This is the Journal, Home, and RP Log of the lava lamp Sarien and her pet human, Dyb Ael.~



They happen to be quite a hippie pair. Dyb has yet to be seen wearing anything other than bellbottom jeans (even her winter fleece pyjamas have bellbottoms) and grooves to her psychedliPod on a regular basis, while Sarien... well, Sarien is a lava lampbaby and sports a peace sign motif. The pair believe strongly in Truth, Justice, Freedom, Reasonably Priced Love, and a Hard-Boiled Egg. Or, in Sarien's case, a AAA battery.

Dyb is zanier and slightly less in touch with reality than Sarien appears to be so far. Considering that Sarien is a sentient lightbulb, being less in touch with reality is quite a feat on Dyb's part. Technically Dyb has adopted Sarien, but as level-headed Sarien grows up she'll likely be in charge of Dyb. Where would a girl be without her lamp, anyway?
PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:00 pm


Post 2. The Abode Itself. (banner forthcoming)

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Dyb's house is rather what you would expect of a hippie. Being a treehouse (even a high-tech Lamptown treehouse) her abode is one big commune-room sloppily divided into sections with bookshelves, potted tropical plants, and various furniture. The floor is burnished wood, of course, but covered in throw rugs that are either shag carpet, rainbow, or both.

A living room area has been delineated by some brightly coloured couches facing towards a large TV (not visible in the picture). Various videogames are scattered about, and Dyb's Nintendo fangirlism is visible by the Wii, the giant Link sticker-poster on the wall, and the scores of Pokemon games stealthily pervading the household.

In Dyb's bedroom-area is a door surrounded by mushrooms growing from the floor. Dyb claims the door is just to a walk-in closet, but there's probably some sort of hippie secret training grounds behind it. Or something. Just don't eat the mushrooms unless you want to be tied down for a week while you watch the purdy pikchurs.

Dybael


Dybael

PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:02 pm


Post 3. A Brief(ish) Biography of Dyb Ael.

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Name: Dyb Ael. As a hippie, her choices were to either not have a middle name or have some obnoxiously nature-related middle name. She chose the former. Also, she gets annoyed at anyone who pronounces her last name as "Ale". She doesn't, like, go hippie-berserk or anything, but she gets annoyed anyway.

Gender: Female.

Age: 24. The same age as Phoenix Wright! (And Edgey!)

Physical description: Tall and somewhat lanky. She occasionally gives the impression of being made out of elbows, but only when she's at her klutziest. Her skin is naturally incrediby pale, and she has been mistaken for a ghost twice. However, during the warmer parts of the year her skin approaches a normal tone, which for her is a heavy tan.

Her hair is at that awkward neck length that shows that she's trying to grow her hair out long but it has quite a ways to go still. She has a thick head of hair but it only has volume in the sense that it goes at weird angles. Dyb has been dying her hair an odd shade of tealish-greyish-seafoam as long as anyone can remember. No one knows what her natural hair color is, but "mousey brown" would probably be a good guess.

Dyb wears bellbottom jeans all the time. No, really. ALL THE TIME. She owns bellbottom pyjamas. As a teenager she somehow convinced the administration of Nunnery Prep to allow her to wear bellbottoms under her uniform skirt. She'll probably get married in extra-bellbottomed white bellbottoms.

Personality Description: Dyb is a strange, strange person. She has her own firm ideas of what it means to be a hippie, which at times stray very far from the typical conception. She lives and breathes by her own Personal Hippie Code of Ethics And Psychedelics. Generally, though, this code tells her to be "an overall nice and nifty person", so she isn't some psycho crusader.

Dyb's oddness isn't her dominating trait, like a certain Sam that could be mentioned. She is sweet and rather naive, and guilty about her occasional pessimistic tendencies. Sometimes she makes chronically cynical comments, though, in that innocent hippie voice of hers, and makes one do a "wait, did she really say that?" sort of double-take.

Art by the amazing Jabberwocky Sinope XXVII. This is actually avatar art, which explains the lack of bellbottoms. It's still more or less accurate for Dyb Ael.
PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:04 pm


Post 4. It's No Peter Max in Dayglo, But...


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Sarien, when first adopted. Solemnly Psychedlic.





More pictures to come when more art is made.

Dybael


Dybael

PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:06 pm


Post 5. They Meet. A Fateful Encounter Between Man and Machine. Withe a 1,000 Swishes of Groovy Pants.

Dybael
Dyb grooved through the forest, her new iPod blaring The Six Wives of Henry the Eighth into her eardrums with full prog glory. It wasn't a particularly good groove, since she wasn't very coordinated. But her handsewn hippie bellbottoms swooshed delightfully with every step. She swirled her legs crazily as she grooved to make them swoosh even more.

In retrospect, Dyb probably should have been paying more attention to her surroundings than to her swooshy pants of groove. Forests are famous for having trees in, and trees are notorious for having roots. Dyb had an encounter with the gnarled*, treacherous kind that trip up even the most Elite of Beat Agents.
* But not gnarly. They're not that cool.

Dyb winced as she hit the ground, and scrambled to put her headphones back in her ears. As she went to stand up, she saw a dim light in the gloam. Hovering above some loam. Forests have a lot of loam, too.

Dyb stared. And stared some more. And turned off her psychedeliPod so she could concentrate more properly on gaping. The dim gloam-loam light was some sort of lava-glass-bubble-blob-glowing thing. And, as hippie as she was, Dyb hadn't partaken of any hallucinogenic herbage that would make her see something like this.

After a few seconds of bewildered staring (it wasn't really all that long, but the sheer "wait, what"ness of the situation felt much longer) Dyb realized that, y'know, there are other types of lamps out there than the ones with the cloth shades that she occasionally ended up wearing on her head after a night of revelry*. Back at home, she had a few lava lamps of the non-sentient variety. And if, as she had heard, sentient normal-type lamps grew from light bulbs, wouldn't it make sense that sentient lava lamps would grow from blobby lava bubble things?
* Strictly non-sentient lamp shades, of course. It would be cruel and unusual to strip a sentient lamp of its shade. Dyb didn't really see the point of wearing lampshades anyway, even if it was Narrative Convention that after a night of revelry someone simply has to be wearing a lampshade and singing lewd songs in a wobbly, offkey way.

Come to that, the lampbaby was cute in a bubbly blobby sort of way. And, inasmuch as a blob can give a hippieperson a look, it was giving her a knowing sort of look. So, hardly thinking about it, Dyb scooped up the lampbaby in her arms, took one earbud out, and put it roughly near the blob so it too could enjoy the hippieness.

When Dyb looked up from adjusting the music, there was an attendant in front of her. Dyb wasn't altogether too startled, since it was common knowledge that La Fluff adoption agents were skilled in ninja techniques, and always appeared as soon as it looked like someone was going to adopt a lamp.

"Is that the one you want?" asked the attendant in a vaguely bored sort of way that reminded Dyb of a Willow for no real reason whatsoever. Dyb nodded.

"And what's your name?"

"Dyb Ael," Dyb replied.

"Ale?" the attendant queried as she filled in the form that had ninjappeared in front of her.

"No, no, no! Ael. With the A and the E, right?"

"Oh." said the attendant, scribbling over the misspelled name in pen and adding in a correction. "And what is the lamp's name?"

"Sarien," Dyb replied in the fine hippie tradition of coming up with a pretty sounding name off the top of her head. It sounded all right though, and fit better than "Topaz Windbright Moonflower" or anything of the sort.
PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:08 pm


Post 6. Posessions.
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This octopus clock hangs on the wall in Dyb and Sarien's roughly-blocked-off sleeping space. What can I say? Dyb thought it was cute. Sarien hasn't noticed it yet amidst the rest of the hippie decor.

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This is Nora the Persocom octopus (Octocom? Persopus?). She's in charge of making sure that Dyb doesn't forget to do anything blatantly important, like go to the grocery store at regular intervals, and keeps Dyb from doing anything blatantly stupid, like eating the mushrooms that grow in front of the closet door.

Dybael


Dybael

PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:10 pm


Post 7. RP Log.

Dyb adopts Sarien: Main RP forum
PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:12 pm


Post 8. Other Stuff.

This may be useful to reserve for later.

Dybael


Dybael

PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:13 pm


Post 9. Other Stuff.

This may be useful to reserve for later.
PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:15 pm


Post 10. Other Stuff.

This may be useful to reserve for later.

Dybael


Dybael

PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:18 pm


Post 11. Other Stuff.

This may be useful to reserve for later.
PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:21 pm


Post 12. Other Stuff.

This may be useful to reserve for later.

Dybael


Dybael

PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:23 pm


Post 13. Yep, You Guessed It.

Still more random reserves.
PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:26 pm


Post 14. Almost Done.

I can't imagine needing this many posts, but still.

Dybael


Dybael

PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:39 pm


Post 15. Thank Yous.

Infinite thanks to Mobster Lobster, for many things, like introducing me to Phoenix Wright, teaching me to not suck at making pretty avatars, and generally being an awesome dude: but in particular, for creating electroCUTE and drawing such spectacularly trippy lamps. heart

Equally infinite thanks to Laverne / Scila Verna / whatever alibi she's using these days for paying for Sarien. My interwebs wife (or, depending on her current gender, husband), Verne is made of awesome. heart
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