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thisavrou_ooc2016-12-02 06:24 pm
hohnkai) wrote in thisavrou_ooc2016-12-02 06:24 pm
Entry tags:
tdm 14
T E S T D R I V E |
"living is an act of courage."
|
chara "cter" dreemurr | undertoot | will match prose/brackets
inconsequence
2016-12-03 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
a; "we are number one" but every "one" is replaced with a knife knife sword; cw: body horror
[A child ends up on the deck plating, face down, their hair an untidy spill over their shoulders and across the floor. You might easily mistake them for something dead (ha ha), something cast-off. A corpse.b; according to all known laws of aviation there is no way the bee should be able to fly; cw self-harm references
Then they move.
Their fingers twitch, dragging over the matte black of the ground. It is not like a fistful of flowers or grave dirt. The ground is not comprised of rich earth, and it does not crumble beneath their touch. It's atypically firm - solid.
When they lift their head to peer into the murk, their eyes are a bright and unnatural red. Their cheeks are rosy, a smile alight as though printed on their features.
They're still here.
Of course they're still here.
They start to laugh almost at once. It's high and bright, like glass shards tinkling against the floor, like knives scraped over a hard surface, as they right themself, pulling their body to their feet. They stare at their hands, and they laugh as they blink, feeling the scrape of eyelashes against air and skin, the sensation of a body that is theirs and not someone else's, a body that should be withered into nothing more than bleached bones and blackish rot but isn't. They're even in the clothes they were wearing when they fed that poison into their veins.
The sensation of being is so abnormal and unnatural that they almost forget that it is - not typical to have flowers (golden flowers, of course) cropping up out of one's skin, all along one wrist and up their arms and out of the side of their neck, mossy growths of it clinging to their cheeks and the skin of their collarbone.
How disgusting.
They laugh and laugh and laugh, the sound jagged and hateful and overly shrill, violently uncontained as it echoes.
They're still here.
Of course they're still here.
This is it, then. Their own personal hell. Why not, then? That's where kids like them should be, is it not? Of course. Of course it is.]
When their awareness is theirs once more (was it ever?), they are sequestered in the dark of something massive and rocky and cave-like. Perhaps they are too shameful to be exposed to the light of day. To touch something as fragile and kind as life and light - that was never for kids like them, was it?
No. They are better off in here, in the gloom. They can pick flowers off the skin of their arms and wrists and around their shoulders and smile as each plucking motion yields a fresh stab of agony, as though ripping the hair from their scalp.
Maybe they'll bleed out.
Wouldn't that be something.
How would this world find a way to bring them back this time? Why, they have no idea. Why don't they find out?
Slip and Trip
[There's more than a little to take in after the initial shock of showing up on a strange planet. Adam's not quite sure that he's not still in a dreamscape and that being pulled from the scrying bowl hadn't just been a part of it. His head is aching and everything about this place has him feeling left of center.
It's easy to feel lost in the middle of this and his eyes seek out looking for Ronan because if he was still in his dream then he would have to be here.
But what if this is real? His brows furrow. There's more people than he would have imagined in any dreamscape but stranger things have happened in the last few months.]
Jesus fuck [The words are a soft mutter of frustration because despite earlier explanations the weird status of his watch and clothes now after whatever it is that has happened makes it seem like he is still stuck in a nightmare but there's also a disconnect that he wouldn't have felt.
Maybe he's actually dead and this is hell.]
Wildcard
(Hit me with whatever.)
(ooc: will match styles)
[There's more than a little to take in after the initial shock of showing up on a strange planet. Adam's not quite sure that he's not still in a dreamscape and that being pulled from the scrying bowl hadn't just been a part of it. His head is aching and everything about this place has him feeling left of center.
It's easy to feel lost in the middle of this and his eyes seek out looking for Ronan because if he was still in his dream then he would have to be here.
But what if this is real? His brows furrow. There's more people than he would have imagined in any dreamscape but stranger things have happened in the last few months.]
Jesus fuck [The words are a soft mutter of frustration because despite earlier explanations the weird status of his watch and clothes now after whatever it is that has happened makes it seem like he is still stuck in a nightmare but there's also a disconnect that he wouldn't have felt.
Maybe he's actually dead and this is hell.]
Wildcard
(Hit me with whatever.)
(ooc: will match styles)
( a. slip and trip )
This isn't the first time Mei has ended up disoriented and confused from being pulled through (or being in) a device. Cryofreeze left her dizzy like this too. But even after the dizziness fades, she finds she can barely walk. Her knees are shaking and barely holding her up. She stumbles to a place she can sit, hoping with a little rest, the feeling will go away.
Once she has the story of what's going on here, she looks around with a frown.
"I would be happy to help you explore, once my legs are stronger." She ends the statement by massaging her calf, but it doesn't seem to help.
( b. introductions aren't awkward. )
Despite her recent disability, Mei is determined to go with the others to this central hub, but it's slow going for her. She walks gingerly, hands outstretched in case she needs to catch herself if her legs give out. Along the way, she wants to know about her traveling companions: how long they were aboard the ship, where they're from, and what they plan to do now.
( c. dealer's choice )
Maybe a kind soul will be willing to help Mei walk with an arm around her waist, or even carrying her. She wouldn't mind a lift. And she'll figure out a way to repay you someday, once her legs are better!
...they'll get better, right?
This isn't the first time Mei has ended up disoriented and confused from being pulled through (or being in) a device. Cryofreeze left her dizzy like this too. But even after the dizziness fades, she finds she can barely walk. Her knees are shaking and barely holding her up. She stumbles to a place she can sit, hoping with a little rest, the feeling will go away.
Once she has the story of what's going on here, she looks around with a frown.
"I would be happy to help you explore, once my legs are stronger." She ends the statement by massaging her calf, but it doesn't seem to help.
( b. introductions aren't awkward. )
Despite her recent disability, Mei is determined to go with the others to this central hub, but it's slow going for her. She walks gingerly, hands outstretched in case she needs to catch herself if her legs give out. Along the way, she wants to know about her traveling companions: how long they were aboard the ship, where they're from, and what they plan to do now.
( c. dealer's choice )
Maybe a kind soul will be willing to help Mei walk with an arm around her waist, or even carrying her. She wouldn't mind a lift. And she'll figure out a way to repay you someday, once her legs are better!
...they'll get better, right?
Slip and trip
Emma groaned as she sat up, rubbing her head. There were so many voices around her, so loud. It was a strange sensation. She hadn't felt like this since she was a girl. Luckily a few deep breaths and some mental effort put her back to rights, the voices dampened down to whispers.
She looked around, annoyed to find herself in a strange place. What the hell had happened? While she looked around she stood, looking for others. She would notice her physical changes soon enough, for now she was simply engrossed with trying to get her bearings.
Emma groaned as she sat up, rubbing her head. There were so many voices around her, so loud. It was a strange sensation. She hadn't felt like this since she was a girl. Luckily a few deep breaths and some mental effort put her back to rights, the voices dampened down to whispers.
She looked around, annoyed to find herself in a strange place. What the hell had happened? While she looked around she stood, looking for others. She would notice her physical changes soon enough, for now she was simply engrossed with trying to get her bearings.
☄ introductions aren't awkward; this is not where i should be
Technology Sombra's never heard of means technology Sombra is fascinated with. She's like a child let loose in a toy store, all motion and hands and trying to take a look at everything up close...
...while, of course, maintaining a calm and professional air.
(Not really.)
Curious of the strange inhabitants but all the more curious about their tech, she maintains a friendly attitude to all, smiles and cheerfulness and easily, so easily slipping on her most charming of demeanors. Is she popping up over her shoulder (was she there a second ago) to take a look at what you've got before you? Perhaps standing with a gloved finger at her lip, tilting her head as she regards the view of the rocky planet before her?
Or maybe she's outright approaching you, getting straight to the point-
"So, you've been here a while, right?"
☄ slip and trip; we take this in our stride
[She notices it some time after she's settled down. When she's taking a moment to digest it all, go over everything in her mind- her back itches. And it's not easy to get a look at it, but when she does, she loses her breath.
Sombra augmented her body with cybernetics - but these are not them. These are far beyond what she had done to herself, and beyond any tech she's familiar with - practically biomechanical. Maybe it's the angle, but she can hardly tell where her own skin ends and this organic metal begins, looking almost like a cancer that's threatening to take her over.
But let it never said she's let anything keep her down for long. She's quick to get back in her clothing, back on her feet, back on the move, finding the nearest person and-]
They have doctors here, yeah? You know where any are? Kinda important.
☄ open; but I will never change
Make up your own prompt, I'll match format.If you want to do a new/different/thread and/or continue from the last TDM, we can do that!
Technology Sombra's never heard of means technology Sombra is fascinated with. She's like a child let loose in a toy store, all motion and hands and trying to take a look at everything up close...
...while, of course, maintaining a calm and professional air.
(Not really.)
Curious of the strange inhabitants but all the more curious about their tech, she maintains a friendly attitude to all, smiles and cheerfulness and easily, so easily slipping on her most charming of demeanors. Is she popping up over her shoulder (was she there a second ago) to take a look at what you've got before you? Perhaps standing with a gloved finger at her lip, tilting her head as she regards the view of the rocky planet before her?
Or maybe she's outright approaching you, getting straight to the point-
"So, you've been here a while, right?"
☄ slip and trip; we take this in our stride
[She notices it some time after she's settled down. When she's taking a moment to digest it all, go over everything in her mind- her back itches. And it's not easy to get a look at it, but when she does, she loses her breath.
Sombra augmented her body with cybernetics - but these are not them. These are far beyond what she had done to herself, and beyond any tech she's familiar with - practically biomechanical. Maybe it's the angle, but she can hardly tell where her own skin ends and this organic metal begins, looking almost like a cancer that's threatening to take her over.
But let it never said she's let anything keep her down for long. She's quick to get back in her clothing, back on her feet, back on the move, finding the nearest person and-]
They have doctors here, yeah? You know where any are? Kinda important.
☄ open; but I will never change
Make up your own prompt, I'll match format.
Edited 2016-12-03 01:33 (UTC)
1. This could be better
[The first thing he registers as his head begins to clear and his eyes begin to focus again is that his left arm feels numb and heavy, like a dead weight. It doesn't help that there's blood running down it from the bullet that had grazed it before he came here, but he didn't think it was in a position or deep enough to render his arm completely useless.
The second thing he notices as he's frantically trying to bend and stretch his fingers to make them move again is that he is standing precariously on the edge of a ridge on the side of a very high cliff.]
Holy shit!!
[He backs up immediately, pressing his back against the rock face behind him. It doesn't provide much comfort, as his shoes are hanging over the edge. He looks up. He's just out of reach from the top of the cliff, but it's still too high for him to climb it with just one hand functioning. What's worse is he can feel and hear the rocky ledge he's standing on start to move and crumble under his weight. Still looking for another way up, he does the next best thing he can think of:]
Hey! Is anyone up there? Could use a hand here!
[Oh god this is how he's going to die. Not in prison, not hunting Avery's treasure, but out who knew where, by himself, and without a cigarette on hand. He watches as a piece of the cliff falls off, dropping down to its rocky death below.]
Oh, shit! [There goes another part of the ledge. And there goes his resolve. Still frantically searching for another path up, he begins to mutter under his breath in rapid recitation:] Hail Mary full of grace our Lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus! Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at thehourofourdeath!
[Help?]
2. Give a guy a break
[Now that that extremely harrowing experience is over with and Sam has caught his breath a little, he sticks close to whatever civilization has been established, walking around the camps to see what the situation is, as well as looking around at his surroundings. The blood under his nose has dried, but his arm still bleeds and feels weak, so he always makes sure to stay within close proximity to people just in case. His eyes scan groups of people for someone familiar, but it's his surroundings that really draw his attention.
He's having trouble wrapping his head around the idea of all this, which is why he's taken to wandering around. Compared to the lush and vibrant jungle he was just in, this seems rather barren--no seas, no signs of pirate civilizations. Definitely no Avery treasure here. He would be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed in addition to everything else he's feeling (concern, regret, fear, anger). He sighs heavily, addressing the universe and anyone who might be near:]
Jesus, what's a guy gotta do to get a smoke around here?
3. Wildcard!
[Hit me with anything you'd like and I'll follow you!]
[The first thing he registers as his head begins to clear and his eyes begin to focus again is that his left arm feels numb and heavy, like a dead weight. It doesn't help that there's blood running down it from the bullet that had grazed it before he came here, but he didn't think it was in a position or deep enough to render his arm completely useless.
The second thing he notices as he's frantically trying to bend and stretch his fingers to make them move again is that he is standing precariously on the edge of a ridge on the side of a very high cliff.]
Holy shit!!
[He backs up immediately, pressing his back against the rock face behind him. It doesn't provide much comfort, as his shoes are hanging over the edge. He looks up. He's just out of reach from the top of the cliff, but it's still too high for him to climb it with just one hand functioning. What's worse is he can feel and hear the rocky ledge he's standing on start to move and crumble under his weight. Still looking for another way up, he does the next best thing he can think of:]
Hey! Is anyone up there? Could use a hand here!
[Oh god this is how he's going to die. Not in prison, not hunting Avery's treasure, but out who knew where, by himself, and without a cigarette on hand. He watches as a piece of the cliff falls off, dropping down to its rocky death below.]
Oh, shit! [There goes another part of the ledge. And there goes his resolve. Still frantically searching for another path up, he begins to mutter under his breath in rapid recitation:] Hail Mary full of grace our Lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus! Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at thehourofourdeath!
[Help?]
2. Give a guy a break
[Now that that extremely harrowing experience is over with and Sam has caught his breath a little, he sticks close to whatever civilization has been established, walking around the camps to see what the situation is, as well as looking around at his surroundings. The blood under his nose has dried, but his arm still bleeds and feels weak, so he always makes sure to stay within close proximity to people just in case. His eyes scan groups of people for someone familiar, but it's his surroundings that really draw his attention.
He's having trouble wrapping his head around the idea of all this, which is why he's taken to wandering around. Compared to the lush and vibrant jungle he was just in, this seems rather barren--no seas, no signs of pirate civilizations. Definitely no Avery treasure here. He would be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed in addition to everything else he's feeling (concern, regret, fear, anger). He sighs heavily, addressing the universe and anyone who might be near:]
Jesus, what's a guy gotta do to get a smoke around here?
3. Wildcard!
[Hit me with anything you'd like and I'll follow you!]
Edited 2016-12-03 01:44 (UTC)
( ooc: prose is totally okay too!)
1. dealer's choice
[ The Ingress that spits Pepper out sits on top of a hill; not a very tall one, but unfortunately rather steep and rocky. She barely has time to properly comprehend what's happening to her when she looses her already precarious footing and tumbles down the hillside on a startled cry. She rolls down several feet, stones and little shrubs scraping and pummeling at her before coming to a stop at the foot of the hill, curling in on herself and groaning in pain. She's not sure how long she just lays there, trying to draw air knocked out of her on impact back into her lungs.
Gingerly, she eventually straightens her aching limbs, opening her eyes to take a look around... but everything is blurry, her vision swimming. Did she hit her head? She touches her stinging temple with shaky fingers, the tips coming back bloody. Fantastic. She squints as she takes another look at her surroundings, but her eyesight doesn't sharpen in the least. Everything further than few feet away is out of focus, blurry shapes on an equally blurry canvas.
Are those shapes in the distance people? After a moment of hesitation, she takes the risk. ]
Hey...! [ It comes out barely as a croak. Coughing, she pushes herself up on her hands and calls out louder this time. ] Hello!
2. introductions aren’t awkward
[ Pepper has no words for this. She's still half-convinced she's dreaming, standing around almost numbly in her rumpled and torn business attire, previously neat ponytail ruffled and a smear of blood drying at her temple. Most of these people seem to know what they're doing, going this way and that; assisting others, gathering supplies. Alien planet? Spaceship crash? Seriously? On top of it all, her eyes aren't working like they should for some reason, already tiring from all the useless squinting she's doing in effort to see properly. Breathing a shuddering sigh, she brings both hands up to her face to rub at her closed eyes. ]
This is not how I pictured this day would go.
1. dealer's choice
[ The Ingress that spits Pepper out sits on top of a hill; not a very tall one, but unfortunately rather steep and rocky. She barely has time to properly comprehend what's happening to her when she looses her already precarious footing and tumbles down the hillside on a startled cry. She rolls down several feet, stones and little shrubs scraping and pummeling at her before coming to a stop at the foot of the hill, curling in on herself and groaning in pain. She's not sure how long she just lays there, trying to draw air knocked out of her on impact back into her lungs.
Gingerly, she eventually straightens her aching limbs, opening her eyes to take a look around... but everything is blurry, her vision swimming. Did she hit her head? She touches her stinging temple with shaky fingers, the tips coming back bloody. Fantastic. She squints as she takes another look at her surroundings, but her eyesight doesn't sharpen in the least. Everything further than few feet away is out of focus, blurry shapes on an equally blurry canvas.
Are those shapes in the distance people? After a moment of hesitation, she takes the risk. ]
Hey...! [ It comes out barely as a croak. Coughing, she pushes herself up on her hands and calls out louder this time. ] Hello!
2. introductions aren’t awkward
[ Pepper has no words for this. She's still half-convinced she's dreaming, standing around almost numbly in her rumpled and torn business attire, previously neat ponytail ruffled and a smear of blood drying at her temple. Most of these people seem to know what they're doing, going this way and that; assisting others, gathering supplies. Alien planet? Spaceship crash? Seriously? On top of it all, her eyes aren't working like they should for some reason, already tiring from all the useless squinting she's doing in effort to see properly. Breathing a shuddering sigh, she brings both hands up to her face to rub at her closed eyes. ]
This is not how I pictured this day would go.
Edited 2016-12-03 02:15 (UTC)
slip and trip
[ This was not the cockpit of the Falcon. And as much as he protests that the ship's not his anymore, that really is where he's meant to be right now. Not... in a cave somewhere, tripping over stalagmites as he tries to find another living soul.
He passes a small pool of water and catches his reflection, except-- that can't be right. He hasn't looked like that in a decade! ]
What in stars name is going on here?
introductions
[ After he gets the spiel, he wanders the hub, looking for a way to keep busy. He was a business man, and before that a smuggler. He doesn't know how to be a refugee. But he knows how to make himself useful, so when he sees somebody struggling or in need of assistance, he'll step in to lend a hand. ]
Hey there, friend. Looks like you could use some help with that. Mind if I...?
[ This was not the cockpit of the Falcon. And as much as he protests that the ship's not his anymore, that really is where he's meant to be right now. Not... in a cave somewhere, tripping over stalagmites as he tries to find another living soul.
He passes a small pool of water and catches his reflection, except-- that can't be right. He hasn't looked like that in a decade! ]
What in stars name is going on here?
introductions
[ After he gets the spiel, he wanders the hub, looking for a way to keep busy. He was a business man, and before that a smuggler. He doesn't know how to be a refugee. But he knows how to make himself useful, so when he sees somebody struggling or in need of assistance, he'll step in to lend a hand. ]
Hey there, friend. Looks like you could use some help with that. Mind if I...?
☄ dealer's choice;
[ So. This is pretty damn bad.
Stephen finds himself in a cave suddenly and he doesn't have anything that could help him get to that opening that is most definitely several feet up. No Cloak, no Eye of Agamotto, and, worst of all, no sling ring. He is so screwed. Looking back up at the opening, he mutters to himself, ]
Wong is going to kill me.
[ Maybe he could try climbing up it himself... He positions himself and closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath, reminding himself to concentrate. Don't panic. That won't do you any good. And he's been in tight spots before. He still has his magic. That's something. He can work with that. Yes.
His eyes snap open and Strange moves his hands, casting a spell for both hands, the glowing circles engulfing them. He approaches the wall of the cave and tests his weapons. They let out a ting like they are made of metal, chipping off some small pebbles. Okay. Good. He takes in a breath, lean back and hurls one circle into the rockface. He does the same with the other but a bit higher. Using the circles like they were pickaxes, he starts to slowly climb up.
But just because the spell works, it doesn't mean it's easy. He's trying to navigate in the dark with only the light from the circles to go by. There's a little more illumination as he gets further up but not by much. His foot slips and he yells out. ]
Shit!
[ The spell starts to flicker a bit and his heart jumps into his throat, ]
No, no. Don't!
[ He seriously does not want to fall. Not from this height. ]
☄ introductions aren’t awkward;
[ Once he's out of the cave and around the crew - or that's what they call themselves - Stephen tries to focus on what he's got to work with. He's still in deep shit without any way to actually get back to his world but panicking, again, won't help. So, hands on his hips, still dressed in his blue tunic and boots from the sanctum, he breathes out a laugh, trying to act like none of this is actually phasing him. ]
So, anyone seen a xenomorph? Ever run into the Nostromo while you were out there? No?
[ Does a gesture to the sky, wiggling his fingers and everything.Stephen, you're not funny. ]
[ So. This is pretty damn bad.
Stephen finds himself in a cave suddenly and he doesn't have anything that could help him get to that opening that is most definitely several feet up. No Cloak, no Eye of Agamotto, and, worst of all, no sling ring. He is so screwed. Looking back up at the opening, he mutters to himself, ]
Wong is going to kill me.
[ Maybe he could try climbing up it himself... He positions himself and closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath, reminding himself to concentrate. Don't panic. That won't do you any good. And he's been in tight spots before. He still has his magic. That's something. He can work with that. Yes.
His eyes snap open and Strange moves his hands, casting a spell for both hands, the glowing circles engulfing them. He approaches the wall of the cave and tests his weapons. They let out a ting like they are made of metal, chipping off some small pebbles. Okay. Good. He takes in a breath, lean back and hurls one circle into the rockface. He does the same with the other but a bit higher. Using the circles like they were pickaxes, he starts to slowly climb up.
But just because the spell works, it doesn't mean it's easy. He's trying to navigate in the dark with only the light from the circles to go by. There's a little more illumination as he gets further up but not by much. His foot slips and he yells out. ]
Shit!
[ The spell starts to flicker a bit and his heart jumps into his throat, ]
No, no. Don't!
[ He seriously does not want to fall. Not from this height. ]
☄ introductions aren’t awkward;
[ Once he's out of the cave and around the crew - or that's what they call themselves - Stephen tries to focus on what he's got to work with. He's still in deep shit without any way to actually get back to his world but panicking, again, won't help. So, hands on his hips, still dressed in his blue tunic and boots from the sanctum, he breathes out a laugh, trying to act like none of this is actually phasing him. ]
So, anyone seen a xenomorph? Ever run into the Nostromo while you were out there? No?
[ Does a gesture to the sky, wiggling his fingers and everything.
Edited 2016-12-03 02:25 (UTC)
Big Sister | Bioshock 2 | Warning for loud noises in linked video
handofrapture
2016-12-03 02:22 am (UTC)(link)
a. slip and trip
[It happens too quickly to comprehend. She’s hunting a splicer, a low, worthless thing whose only light is the ADAM singing through his veins. It’s not his, and she’ll make him pay for stealing from her sisters, rip the ADAM out at the point of a needle. She’s so close, she can smell his fear mingling with the ADAM in his blood, making it burn all the brighter, a beacon in Rapture’s dark--
And then she is gone.
Rubble rushes up to meet her. She catches herself on her hands, breath coming in ragged gasps. Has she been hit? There’s no pain, no rush of ADAM to a wound. Just weight, constant and crushing. Armor feels like a mountain resting on her shoulders. She tries to stand, can’t. Tries to lift her head, and succeeds with almost unbearable exertion. She wishes she hadn’t. There is rubble everywhere but there are no walls. The blue of the ocean is too bright, too distant, impossibly suspended overhead. Vertigo sets in, an old rhyme looping in her head (”In the house of upside down, cellar’s top-floor, attic’s ground--”) She drops her head again, fingers curling into the loose rocks beneath her hands. She can’t stand. She can’t defend herself. But her sisters must be somewhere and she still has the power to reach out to them in the only way she knows how.
Anyone even remotely close to the Ingress will hear the inhuman screaming that pierces the planet’s quiet atmosphere. One could almost mistake it for the screech of grinding metal, if not for the desperate, animal anguish that undercuts it. Whether it’s a cry for help or a warning to stay away -- that’s even more uncertain.]
b.introductions everything is awkward at all times but especially now
[She’s had to remove the metal pieces of her armor just to be able to move. The fact that she needed help to remove it at all only adds to her anger -- not to mention her confusion. The people who found her had every reason to take advantage of her compromised state, to tear her open and gorge themselves on ADAM like any other splicers. But they hadn’t. Instead they had brought her here. To “camp.”
She looks smaller without her armor, now only covered by a stained undersuit and helmet. Truth be told, the helmet has become uncomfortable as well. It had felt like a part of her body for years before, but now it takes effort just to keep her head upright under its weight. As she grows more fatigued, the heaviness eventually becomes intolerable, outweighing even her desire for the protection it provides. Movements rigid with agitation, she reaches up to wrench the helmet free -- only to find that she can’t. It’s rusted in place, and though such a paltry challenge wouldn’t have even slowed her before, now she finds that she doesn’t have the strength to twist it free.
If you, brave soul, would like to help the Big Sister who is steadily growing angrier as she struggles with her helmet, the rest of the camp would probably thank you for itand solemnly remember your noble sacrifice.]
[It happens too quickly to comprehend. She’s hunting a splicer, a low, worthless thing whose only light is the ADAM singing through his veins. It’s not his, and she’ll make him pay for stealing from her sisters, rip the ADAM out at the point of a needle. She’s so close, she can smell his fear mingling with the ADAM in his blood, making it burn all the brighter, a beacon in Rapture’s dark--
And then she is gone.
Rubble rushes up to meet her. She catches herself on her hands, breath coming in ragged gasps. Has she been hit? There’s no pain, no rush of ADAM to a wound. Just weight, constant and crushing. Armor feels like a mountain resting on her shoulders. She tries to stand, can’t. Tries to lift her head, and succeeds with almost unbearable exertion. She wishes she hadn’t. There is rubble everywhere but there are no walls. The blue of the ocean is too bright, too distant, impossibly suspended overhead. Vertigo sets in, an old rhyme looping in her head (”In the house of upside down, cellar’s top-floor, attic’s ground--”) She drops her head again, fingers curling into the loose rocks beneath her hands. She can’t stand. She can’t defend herself. But her sisters must be somewhere and she still has the power to reach out to them in the only way she knows how.
Anyone even remotely close to the Ingress will hear the inhuman screaming that pierces the planet’s quiet atmosphere. One could almost mistake it for the screech of grinding metal, if not for the desperate, animal anguish that undercuts it. Whether it’s a cry for help or a warning to stay away -- that’s even more uncertain.]
b.
[She’s had to remove the metal pieces of her armor just to be able to move. The fact that she needed help to remove it at all only adds to her anger -- not to mention her confusion. The people who found her had every reason to take advantage of her compromised state, to tear her open and gorge themselves on ADAM like any other splicers. But they hadn’t. Instead they had brought her here. To “camp.”
She looks smaller without her armor, now only covered by a stained undersuit and helmet. Truth be told, the helmet has become uncomfortable as well. It had felt like a part of her body for years before, but now it takes effort just to keep her head upright under its weight. As she grows more fatigued, the heaviness eventually becomes intolerable, outweighing even her desire for the protection it provides. Movements rigid with agitation, she reaches up to wrench the helmet free -- only to find that she can’t. It’s rusted in place, and though such a paltry challenge wouldn’t have even slowed her before, now she finds that she doesn’t have the strength to twist it free.
If you, brave soul, would like to help the Big Sister who is steadily growing angrier as she struggles with her helmet, the rest of the camp would probably thank you for it
A. Introductions Aren't Awkward except when they are
[Like ten seconds ago, he was in the midst of battle. And within a blink of an eye, Rhodey's being nudged along, damaged armor and all, with other people. It feels vaguely familiar, but he's never seen so many types of beings before. Some looked human, others like giant robots, and some even like animals. He should be more surprised, but after being an Avenger, it earns more of a "sure" from him.
That said, he should really reach out to find out what the hell's going on. So he pulls aside someone to ask.]
Hey. Can you tell me what's going on?
[He's not mad. Just... confused. And trying to be cordial. No swearing allowed.]
B. Dealer's Choice
[The Ingress has dumped our good War Machine somewhere near an old wreck. How old? We'll never know. There's no good communication devices, his armor's shot (no pun intended), and the helmet's communication doesn't seem to be working. It just comes up as static. Crap, if only Tony had built in some kind of PA system. That would really come in handy right about now.]
Anyone home? Anyone?
[Yep, he has to call the old fashioned way. Maybe someone friendly will hear him. And if not, he can still throw a good punch.]
[Like ten seconds ago, he was in the midst of battle. And within a blink of an eye, Rhodey's being nudged along, damaged armor and all, with other people. It feels vaguely familiar, but he's never seen so many types of beings before. Some looked human, others like giant robots, and some even like animals. He should be more surprised, but after being an Avenger, it earns more of a "sure" from him.
That said, he should really reach out to find out what the hell's going on. So he pulls aside someone to ask.]
Hey. Can you tell me what's going on?
[He's not mad. Just... confused. And trying to be cordial. No swearing allowed.]
B. Dealer's Choice
[The Ingress has dumped our good War Machine somewhere near an old wreck. How old? We'll never know. There's no good communication devices, his armor's shot (no pun intended), and the helmet's communication doesn't seem to be working. It just comes up as static. Crap, if only Tony had built in some kind of PA system. That would really come in handy right about now.]
Anyone home? Anyone?
[Yep, he has to call the old fashioned way. Maybe someone friendly will hear him. And if not, he can still throw a good punch.]
☄ slip and trip
[Hawke and his loyal Mabari have stumbled through the Ingress, been informed what has happened to them, and released upon the general populace. This was a mistake on the part of the welcoming commitee, but no one's perfect.
Normally he's a dashing, handsome 30-something with jet-black hair and a matching beard, of which he is extremely proud. Thanks to the Ingress he looks more like a dashing, handsome 40-something, and there's a lot of grey in that hair and beard, of which he is as-of-yet unaware. He's likely to be incredibly upset when/if someone points all that grey hair out. Until then, he's going to be meandering around, followed by his giant warhound, introducing himself and asking the Most Important Question of them all. How he asks depends on whether or not he knows your character:
A: [To non-castmates as of the end of DA2:]
I don't suppose you know of any good taverns near here? It doesn't even have to be a good tavern, it just has to have an open tap.
B: [To castmates through the end of DA2:]
Thank the Maker you're here! Help me find a tavern!
[Alternatively, please feel free to approach him. Perhaps something about his apparel, the staff on his back, or his dog might catch someone's eye.]
[Hawke and his loyal Mabari have stumbled through the Ingress, been informed what has happened to them, and released upon the general populace. This was a mistake on the part of the welcoming commitee, but no one's perfect.
Normally he's a dashing, handsome 30-something with jet-black hair and a matching beard, of which he is extremely proud. Thanks to the Ingress he looks more like a dashing, handsome 40-something, and there's a lot of grey in that hair and beard, of which he is as-of-yet unaware. He's likely to be incredibly upset when/if someone points all that grey hair out. Until then, he's going to be meandering around, followed by his giant warhound, introducing himself and asking the Most Important Question of them all. How he asks depends on whether or not he knows your character:
A: [To non-castmates as of the end of DA2:]
I don't suppose you know of any good taverns near here? It doesn't even have to be a good tavern, it just has to have an open tap.
B: [To castmates through the end of DA2:]
Thank the Maker you're here! Help me find a tavern!
[Alternatively, please feel free to approach him. Perhaps something about his apparel, the staff on his back, or his dog might catch someone's eye.]
dealer's choice;
[ the ingress that spits out a one james vega is lodged in a rock formation a few feet above ground. it's not so high that it'll hurt someone who falls out (at least not fatally) but it's high enough that if, say, a space beefcake came hurtling out he'd have no chance to do anything except yell various swears in both english and spanish before landing on whatever unfortunate soul happened to be in the way at the time.
which is, uh, exactly what happens.
sorry, whoever you are. he didn't mean to fall on you. ]
slip and trip;
[ it'll seem strange in retrospect, but james doesn't immediately realize he's been gifted with the strength of a wet noodle. everything leading up to the moment in which he realizes something is """off""" is a bit of a blur. he feels weird, sure, sort of like he's just getting over the flu or something, but it's not until he encounters a simple makeshift door to a simple makeshift building that he realizes something is truly wrong. the door and shack have been hobbled together by scraps from the ship. nothing fancy, certainly nothing a Supremely Muscular Man should have trouble opening.
and yet.
and yet.
he tries with all his might (embarrassingly enough) to open the door but to no avail. after what is undoubtedly an embarrassing display, he turns to his companion in defeat. ]
Uh. [ he shrugs, a simple gesture suddenly requiring a curiously herculean effort ] I think it's jammed.
wildcard
[ anything! everything! ]
[ the ingress that spits out a one james vega is lodged in a rock formation a few feet above ground. it's not so high that it'll hurt someone who falls out (at least not fatally) but it's high enough that if, say, a space beefcake came hurtling out he'd have no chance to do anything except yell various swears in both english and spanish before landing on whatever unfortunate soul happened to be in the way at the time.
which is, uh, exactly what happens.
sorry, whoever you are. he didn't mean to fall on you. ]
slip and trip;
[ it'll seem strange in retrospect, but james doesn't immediately realize he's been gifted with the strength of a wet noodle. everything leading up to the moment in which he realizes something is """off""" is a bit of a blur. he feels weird, sure, sort of like he's just getting over the flu or something, but it's not until he encounters a simple makeshift door to a simple makeshift building that he realizes something is truly wrong. the door and shack have been hobbled together by scraps from the ship. nothing fancy, certainly nothing a Supremely Muscular Man should have trouble opening.
and yet.
and yet.
he tries with all his might (embarrassingly enough) to open the door but to no avail. after what is undoubtedly an embarrassing display, he turns to his companion in defeat. ]
Uh. [ he shrugs, a simple gesture suddenly requiring a curiously herculean effort ] I think it's jammed.
wildcard
[ anything! everything! ]
☄ slip and trip | look I'm all for a little bondage, but this is ridiculous
[He's supposed to be home. They'd promised. He'd filled his contract, jumped through all their hoops. He's supposed to be home, with Hopeless, with the world realigned to account for both Hopeless and Larrikin surviving the war. That was the deal. But this isn't Ireland, or even Earth, by the look of it. Possibly not even the right dimension. Something's gone wrong. The Eudio officials have sent him back to the wrong world. Which means--]
Descry?
[The man in the finely tailored three-piece suit isn't just handsome, he's beautiful, [spoiler] with dazzling golden eyes. And right now he looks like he's on the verge of panic--eyes wide, breathing too fast, reaching up to loosen the tie at his throat. Except it won't loosen. He can't even get his fingers between his skin and the fabric. His heart hammering in his chest, he reaches up with both hands to try to pry the tie off.]
Descry? Descry! Hopeless!
[The closer to panic he gets, the tighter the tie seems to cinch around his neck. Maybe it's actually tightening, maybe it isn't, but he's in no fit state to make that call right now. He can't slip his fingers under the tie to loosen it because it's fused to his skin. By the time he's done calling out for Hopeless he's down on his knees, clawing at his neck, absolutely sure that he's going to suffocate.]
☄ dealer's choice | it's not showing off if no one's watching
[When he's calmed down and able to breathe again, Erskine comes to the realization that he's standing at the bottom of some kind of shallow ravine. There are voices in the distance, coming from above. People. If he's going to get any kind of an explanation, maybe figure out how the hell to get out of here and back to where he's supposed to be, he's going to have to find those voices. Which means he needs to go up.
The walls of the ravine aren't perfectly vertical, but they're steep enough that climbing them is going to be a hassle. After eyeing the terrain for a long moment, he sighs heavily and takes one quick glance around, to see if anyone's watching. His hands come up to waist level on either side, palms upward, and a sharp gust of air swirls around him--strong enough to lift him off the ground, up to the top of the cliff, where he lands neatly.
Well. At least his magic's still working.]
[He's supposed to be home. They'd promised. He'd filled his contract, jumped through all their hoops. He's supposed to be home, with Hopeless, with the world realigned to account for both Hopeless and Larrikin surviving the war. That was the deal. But this isn't Ireland, or even Earth, by the look of it. Possibly not even the right dimension. Something's gone wrong. The Eudio officials have sent him back to the wrong world. Which means--]
Descry?
[The man in the finely tailored three-piece suit isn't just handsome, he's beautiful, [spoiler] with dazzling golden eyes. And right now he looks like he's on the verge of panic--eyes wide, breathing too fast, reaching up to loosen the tie at his throat. Except it won't loosen. He can't even get his fingers between his skin and the fabric. His heart hammering in his chest, he reaches up with both hands to try to pry the tie off.]
Descry? Descry! Hopeless!
[The closer to panic he gets, the tighter the tie seems to cinch around his neck. Maybe it's actually tightening, maybe it isn't, but he's in no fit state to make that call right now. He can't slip his fingers under the tie to loosen it because it's fused to his skin. By the time he's done calling out for Hopeless he's down on his knees, clawing at his neck, absolutely sure that he's going to suffocate.]
☄ dealer's choice | it's not showing off if no one's watching
[When he's calmed down and able to breathe again, Erskine comes to the realization that he's standing at the bottom of some kind of shallow ravine. There are voices in the distance, coming from above. People. If he's going to get any kind of an explanation, maybe figure out how the hell to get out of here and back to where he's supposed to be, he's going to have to find those voices. Which means he needs to go up.
The walls of the ravine aren't perfectly vertical, but they're steep enough that climbing them is going to be a hassle. After eyeing the terrain for a long moment, he sighs heavily and takes one quick glance around, to see if anyone's watching. His hands come up to waist level on either side, palms upward, and a sharp gust of air swirls around him--strong enough to lift him off the ground, up to the top of the cliff, where he lands neatly.
Well. At least his magic's still working.]
A. Slip and trip (cw: Body horror)
[The Plain Doll took her arrival in this strange place a lot better than most could be expected to. She listened calmly to the explanation given to her, and did as she was directed to without question. There were no objections from her about her situation at all - just softly spoken words of concern, for her fellow arrivals, and for the 'Good Hunter' she left at home.
She didn't even object to the abomination her own body had become, as three shriveled, tiny creatures find themselves permanently bonded to her right arm. Instead, she only tries to sooth them, as they gasp and murmur in distress at their own situation.
It's during one of these moments, as she tries in vain to soothe the pitiful little creatures, that one gazes up at a passerby with a pleading look and reaches up to grab the hem of their uniform. It whispers something unintelligible at the crew member, before the Doll gently guides its hand back down, away from them.]
Hush, Little One. They cannot help us, and it is rude to bother them with our troubles.
[As she speaks, her pale eyes look down to the Little One, and then up to the stranger in front of her. Her lips, however, do not move - her porcelain face set in a permanent state of stoicism.]
B. Wildcard
[Throw whatever crazy ideas you come up with at this unfortunate cronenberg of a doll.]
[The Plain Doll took her arrival in this strange place a lot better than most could be expected to. She listened calmly to the explanation given to her, and did as she was directed to without question. There were no objections from her about her situation at all - just softly spoken words of concern, for her fellow arrivals, and for the 'Good Hunter' she left at home.
She didn't even object to the abomination her own body had become, as three shriveled, tiny creatures find themselves permanently bonded to her right arm. Instead, she only tries to sooth them, as they gasp and murmur in distress at their own situation.
It's during one of these moments, as she tries in vain to soothe the pitiful little creatures, that one gazes up at a passerby with a pleading look and reaches up to grab the hem of their uniform. It whispers something unintelligible at the crew member, before the Doll gently guides its hand back down, away from them.]
Hush, Little One. They cannot help us, and it is rude to bother them with our troubles.
[As she speaks, her pale eyes look down to the Little One, and then up to the stranger in front of her. Her lips, however, do not move - her porcelain face set in a permanent state of stoicism.]
B. Wildcard
[Throw whatever crazy ideas you come up with at this unfortunate cronenberg of a doll.]
☄ slip and trip
[This isn't the first time he and Bianca have been in an awkward position. It definitely isn't the first time they've been seen in a compromising manner. But it is the first time it's been the crossbow, and not Davri herself. The faces that greet him on the other side of what he can only comprehend as an advanced Eluvian tried to explain the cause. Varric only waved them off.]
[He wasn't particularly keen about signing the documents he's offered (especially considering it isn't a signature at all -- though what it actually is he isn't sure. Normally he'd have witnesses and would take hours to flip it through. But the faces seem more than eager to move him along, and so he presses his thumb to the device and moves along.]
[Once he has a moment to think and breathe, he sets to cursing each and every person he knows. The Inquisitor for fade portals. Hawke by virtue of being Marian Fucking Hawke. Blondie because he always managed to be the catalyst for everything. Occasionally he broke his tirade to swear at his back, which itched and made walking through doors just a little more annoying.]
[He really wasn't having a great time of it all.]
[This isn't the first time he and Bianca have been in an awkward position. It definitely isn't the first time they've been seen in a compromising manner. But it is the first time it's been the crossbow, and not Davri herself. The faces that greet him on the other side of what he can only comprehend as an advanced Eluvian tried to explain the cause. Varric only waved them off.]
[He wasn't particularly keen about signing the documents he's offered (especially considering it isn't a signature at all -- though what it actually is he isn't sure. Normally he'd have witnesses and would take hours to flip it through. But the faces seem more than eager to move him along, and so he presses his thumb to the device and moves along.]
[Once he has a moment to think and breathe, he sets to cursing each and every person he knows. The Inquisitor for fade portals. Hawke by virtue of being Marian Fucking Hawke. Blondie because he always managed to be the catalyst for everything. Occasionally he broke his tirade to swear at his back, which itched and made walking through doors just a little more annoying.]
[He really wasn't having a great time of it all.]
slip and trip;
This is most profoundly not where he should be.
Waking up feeling out of sorts is not unusual for Commander Cullen - "out of sorts" is basically how he always feels. But this is not the clear, chilled air of Skyhold. This is far, far from it, and it puts him in a foul mood.
So just imagine how bad it is when he finds he can't even lift a sword.
"Maker's bloody balls," he mutters, a rare curse from a man who is usually far too professional for such things.
introductions aren't awkward;
That's a lie; Cullen tends to be awkward during introductions. Or any social situation that isn't one where he's giving orders. But this is especially so, because he's just wearing a shirt and pants!
"Where in the blazes has my armor gone?" he asks, rhetorically he assumes. But if someone is nearby to overhear the handsome medieval dude talking to himself, well... that's not awkward, either. Is it?
This is most profoundly not where he should be.
Waking up feeling out of sorts is not unusual for Commander Cullen - "out of sorts" is basically how he always feels. But this is not the clear, chilled air of Skyhold. This is far, far from it, and it puts him in a foul mood.
So just imagine how bad it is when he finds he can't even lift a sword.
"Maker's bloody balls," he mutters, a rare curse from a man who is usually far too professional for such things.
introductions aren't awkward;
That's a lie; Cullen tends to be awkward during introductions. Or any social situation that isn't one where he's giving orders. But this is especially so, because he's just wearing a shirt and pants!
"Where in the blazes has my armor gone?" he asks, rhetorically he assumes. But if someone is nearby to overhear the handsome medieval dude talking to himself, well... that's not awkward, either. Is it?
☄ slip and trip
[It's that horrible feeling of falling out of bed that jolts him into awareness, eyes opening to a sickening brightness as if he'd been keeping his eyes shut too tight for too long. Rafe reaches out for something to catch himself on even though he's not moving, just standing right in place and when there's nothing close by he just closes his eyes as if it'll help stop the sudden nausea that hits him like a tidal wave.
Then he's moving, slightly out of the way of others or anyone who might be nearby, bent over at the waist holding his stomach. As much as he feels as if he might throw up, he won't, but he does focus on breathing in and out, trying to calm himself down. Nothing makes any fucking sense right now.
The last thing Rafe Adler remembers is standing in the middle of a burning pirate ship with a cutlass in one hand and looking up as a ton of treasure plummeted at his face. No, no he remembers feeling it hit for a split second, a hot white pain and then.
Then now.]
... what the--
[Muttered to himself as he opens his eyes, staring down at the ground, feeling less like he's off kilter and ready to fall over. It's then he looks around him, confused for certain, because he's never been much of a religious sort, but even if he was he's pretty sure this isn't heaven. Or hell. Still having no clue what was going on he'll wander off towards the nearest person or persons that seem to have any idea what's going on. People who seem to not be having a moment of crisis.]
I would appreciate if someone could explain what the hell is going on.
[Along with not understanding why he's not currently buried under water in a pirate ship wreckage, Rafe has yet to realize something else is off. Fifteen years have magically melted off him and he's now just as he was when he was twenty years old. So young. So fresh.
Still an asshole.]
[It's that horrible feeling of falling out of bed that jolts him into awareness, eyes opening to a sickening brightness as if he'd been keeping his eyes shut too tight for too long. Rafe reaches out for something to catch himself on even though he's not moving, just standing right in place and when there's nothing close by he just closes his eyes as if it'll help stop the sudden nausea that hits him like a tidal wave.
Then he's moving, slightly out of the way of others or anyone who might be nearby, bent over at the waist holding his stomach. As much as he feels as if he might throw up, he won't, but he does focus on breathing in and out, trying to calm himself down. Nothing makes any fucking sense right now.
The last thing Rafe Adler remembers is standing in the middle of a burning pirate ship with a cutlass in one hand and looking up as a ton of treasure plummeted at his face. No, no he remembers feeling it hit for a split second, a hot white pain and then.
Then now.]
... what the--
[Muttered to himself as he opens his eyes, staring down at the ground, feeling less like he's off kilter and ready to fall over. It's then he looks around him, confused for certain, because he's never been much of a religious sort, but even if he was he's pretty sure this isn't heaven. Or hell. Still having no clue what was going on he'll wander off towards the nearest person or persons that seem to have any idea what's going on. People who seem to not be having a moment of crisis.]
I would appreciate if someone could explain what the hell is going on.
[Along with not understanding why he's not currently buried under water in a pirate ship wreckage, Rafe has yet to realize something else is off. Fifteen years have magically melted off him and he's now just as he was when he was twenty years old. So young. So fresh.
Still an asshole.]
Edited 2016-12-03 05:37 (UTC)
☄ slip and trip
[ Seems like it's just one thing after another. He should've expected nothing less, with the life he's lived over the years, everything he's seen and the battles he's fought in. Add his name to the heroes of Thedas and sure, why the hell not have him skip worlds and end up with his weapon infused to his right arm while he's at it. It's bad enough that he can't quite walk because of his ankle brace or that he's blind in his left eye or that he's missing some fingers on one hand.
Would he say it was all worth it? Maybe. Probably.
Definitely.
Seriously— who doesn't want a greataxe (minus that glow) hanging out of their arm? It has a cool winged eagle design to it, extra cutting edge, and his fist is closed around the grip looking like it's one with the metal. Kind of makes his arm look as long as his entire torso.
It's taking him a full minute to process this but all Bull knows is that it doesn't hurt, face stoic as he stands there with his hooked horns as wide as his shoulders and eight feet tall, holding the arm up to closely examine it
Eh—he's been through worse, he can deal with this, as messed up as this is. ]
Huh. Imagine that.
☄ introductions aren’t awkward
Something tells me they're lacking on the dragon's piss around this place.
[ The qunari is gruffly amused and yet not, casting a critical eye—his only one—around the bustle of the hub. He stands out like a sore thumb, towering over most that he sees. The looks thrown his way go ignored and he taps the greataxe infused in his right arm against the side of his leg.
As far as he knows...some ship has gone down, crash landed, people are hurt and confused, but this is the place they'd needed to be. Or so he's picked up on conversations in passing. ]
(ooc: post-inquisition; not romanced; chargers are alive; pm for any questions? c:)
[ Seems like it's just one thing after another. He should've expected nothing less, with the life he's lived over the years, everything he's seen and the battles he's fought in. Add his name to the heroes of Thedas and sure, why the hell not have him skip worlds and end up with his weapon infused to his right arm while he's at it. It's bad enough that he can't quite walk because of his ankle brace or that he's blind in his left eye or that he's missing some fingers on one hand.
Would he say it was all worth it? Maybe. Probably.
Definitely.
Seriously— who doesn't want a greataxe (minus that glow) hanging out of their arm? It has a cool winged eagle design to it, extra cutting edge, and his fist is closed around the grip looking like it's one with the metal. Kind of makes his arm look as long as his entire torso.
It's taking him a full minute to process this but all Bull knows is that it doesn't hurt, face stoic as he stands there with his hooked horns as wide as his shoulders and eight feet tall, holding the arm up to closely examine it
Eh—he's been through worse, he can deal with this, as messed up as this is. ]
Huh. Imagine that.
☄ introductions aren’t awkward
Something tells me they're lacking on the dragon's piss around this place.
[ The qunari is gruffly amused and yet not, casting a critical eye—his only one—around the bustle of the hub. He stands out like a sore thumb, towering over most that he sees. The looks thrown his way go ignored and he taps the greataxe infused in his right arm against the side of his leg.
As far as he knows...some ship has gone down, crash landed, people are hurt and confused, but this is the place they'd needed to be. Or so he's picked up on conversations in passing. ]
(ooc: post-inquisition; not romanced; chargers are alive; pm for any questions? c:)
☄ introductions aren’t awkward
[ If there's one thing that Miharu has good experience with, it's going with the flow, and he finds it not too difficult to slide mostly under the radar given his slight figure and ninja training. Despite trying to assert himself recently, to be more outgoing, the situation causes him to fall back into old habits. He lets himself shuffle around aimlessly, catching snippets of conversation but not joining in any of them himself, deeply unsure of what to do or who to talk to. Technology always puts him far out of his depth, and all of what he overhears seems far more complicated than the simple cell phone he's previously barely figured out.
Eventually his stomach wins out over his shyness and he finds someone that looks at least a little approachable (or at least not terribly busy at the moment). ]
Excuse me, is there a place to get some food?
[ Help a quiet, growing teen boy out? ]
☄ dealer's choice
[ When he comes to his senses, Miharu finds himself perched on a small outcropping, far up a cliff face. He's definitely a solid ten feet above ground and only has a foot or so of space to occupy, so he settles down, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his hands on top, fingers gently gripping his kneecaps. It wouldn't actually be any trouble to get down, considering he's a ninja, but this seems like as good a place as any to contemplate what actually just happened.
Outwardly, he seems particularly not bothered by the situation he's in, but it definitely is a little strange to see a fairly scrawny boy perched on the side of a cliff. ]
[ If there's one thing that Miharu has good experience with, it's going with the flow, and he finds it not too difficult to slide mostly under the radar given his slight figure and ninja training. Despite trying to assert himself recently, to be more outgoing, the situation causes him to fall back into old habits. He lets himself shuffle around aimlessly, catching snippets of conversation but not joining in any of them himself, deeply unsure of what to do or who to talk to. Technology always puts him far out of his depth, and all of what he overhears seems far more complicated than the simple cell phone he's previously barely figured out.
Eventually his stomach wins out over his shyness and he finds someone that looks at least a little approachable (or at least not terribly busy at the moment). ]
Excuse me, is there a place to get some food?
[ Help a quiet, growing teen boy out? ]
☄ dealer's choice
[ When he comes to his senses, Miharu finds himself perched on a small outcropping, far up a cliff face. He's definitely a solid ten feet above ground and only has a foot or so of space to occupy, so he settles down, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his hands on top, fingers gently gripping his kneecaps. It wouldn't actually be any trouble to get down, considering he's a ninja, but this seems like as good a place as any to contemplate what actually just happened.
Outwardly, he seems particularly not bothered by the situation he's in, but it definitely is a little strange to see a fairly scrawny boy perched on the side of a cliff. ]
Edited 2016-12-03 09:17 (UTC)
Her right arm had been split open.
That's not even the most disconcerting part of the whole ordeal.
Masane slowly turns the new... appendages over. All the way up to her face, her skin had been replaced with the Witchblade's typical black scaling, rendering her right eye permanently glowing yellow and red hair shot out between light brown. Her clawed fingers were split between ring and middle finger, all the way up her shoulder, the cavity eating into her chest, leaving a gaping hole in her side.
And out of the split? A writhing mass of thin, red worm-like tentacles. The Witchblade sat in the midst of it, glowing red. In fact, the tentacles seemed to sprout from it rather than from within her.
She seriously debates trying to pull the bastard thing out.
In the end, however, the fact that she's surrounded by people stops Masane from trying. That she's become a literal walking symbolism for the Witchblade's parasitism doesn't stop her from trying to socialize at any rate.
"Heyyy," she says sidling up to the nearest person who looked vaguely like they had some clue about things. "Any idea where I can get some alcohol?"
That's not even the most disconcerting part of the whole ordeal.
Masane slowly turns the new... appendages over. All the way up to her face, her skin had been replaced with the Witchblade's typical black scaling, rendering her right eye permanently glowing yellow and red hair shot out between light brown. Her clawed fingers were split between ring and middle finger, all the way up her shoulder, the cavity eating into her chest, leaving a gaping hole in her side.
And out of the split? A writhing mass of thin, red worm-like tentacles. The Witchblade sat in the midst of it, glowing red. In fact, the tentacles seemed to sprout from it rather than from within her.
She seriously debates trying to pull the bastard thing out.
In the end, however, the fact that she's surrounded by people stops Masane from trying. That she's become a literal walking symbolism for the Witchblade's parasitism doesn't stop her from trying to socialize at any rate.
"Heyyy," she says sidling up to the nearest person who looked vaguely like they had some clue about things. "Any idea where I can get some alcohol?"
☄ introductions aren’t awkward
☄ dealer's choice
[ She's going completely damned insane. Yeah, it's not the most pleasant conclusion to come to, but all things considered, it just makes sense to roll with the punches for the present. Not being in a constant state of moderate pain courtesy of many, many broken bones is a luxury the Warden is content to appreciate for what it is.
Momentarily divested of her much beloved heavy plate armor, Cousland finishes rolling up her new uniform's sleeves to her elbows, sizing up the other occupants passing by with a steadily increasing air of suspicion.
Now, she's no mage of course - greatly preferring the simplicity of 'hit it with a sword 'til it stops being rude at you' - but still. Run into demons enough times and you start questioning the legitimacy of reality almost constantly in outlandish worlds just. Like. This. Sure, the walls are missing that specific kind of greenish cast that hints towards Fade dreams, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.
So, only after making a point to secure her shield and longsword on her back and hip respectively, she'll march right on up to the closest individual she can find - one hand raised in greeting. ]
A moment of your time, if I may.
[ From her tone, that really isn't a request. ]
☄ dealer's choice
[A.k.a The Yakkety Sax Prompt
There is no doubt a breathtaking vista to appreciate in even the most bleak landscapes if you really look for it. Spires of rock against a cloudy sky, a winding stream nestled in the bottom of a ravine, etc etc.
It's somewhat less breathtaking when one has been plucked from somewhere stable and flat to be placed on a steep incline instead. Being given no more than a split second warning, Cousland naturally does the smart thing and attempts to right herself.
As in: pitching ass-over-teakettle down the scree and rock with an excess of dust, noise, and a steadily lengthening repertoire of curses in increasing volume directly tied to her rapidly increasing speed.
Maybe you're just passing through, minding your own business, or in a similar situation of unexpected relocation, but either way... probably want to dodge the Warden Express barrelling down the hill at you. ]
[slip and trip; dear maker, thanks for the hot bod but where are the babes]
[Well, look at him! Aging backwards! Anders isn't sure yet how exactly he did it, but he just single-handedly invented time magic. (Because there's no way that exists. What a ridiculous idea.) He isn't too ashamed of how long he admires himself in whatever reflective surface he can find that isn't covered in dirt or soot. Who wouldn't like to see that dashing young face staring back at them?
Unfortunately, he still feels older, at least in his head if not in his bones, and between the daze of the physical change and the intake of this new environment, his bliss is rapidly approaching its expiration. Plus, there is that meddlesome incessant call to action in the back of his mind.
Come to think of it, didn't he have somewhere to be? He could've sworn...]
[introductions aren't awkward; what the actual fuck is this shit]
[The novelty of looking and feeling like he's fresh out of the Circle wears out pretty quickly. Something akin to but not quite panic builds up in him as he traverses the wreckage -- of what, exactly, he isn't sure. A ship of some kind, by the look of it and the talk of the crew, but it isn't one like any he's ever seen. And neither, for that matter, is the place it's crashed.
His first instinct is to approach the crew for help, but with the wreck, they clearly have their hands full with their own problems, and imposing would only set them back. And he'd rather help than stand there looking stupid, but he can't wrap his head around any of the equipment they're tending.
Eventually, he settles on wandering around to look for injured crew in need of help. The Fade may feel faint here, but surely he can summon enough magic to seal some wounds, though that would, of course, require him to find a prospective patient, and he still looks far more lost than on a mission.]
[Well, look at him! Aging backwards! Anders isn't sure yet how exactly he did it, but he just single-handedly invented time magic. (Because there's no way that exists. What a ridiculous idea.) He isn't too ashamed of how long he admires himself in whatever reflective surface he can find that isn't covered in dirt or soot. Who wouldn't like to see that dashing young face staring back at them?
Unfortunately, he still feels older, at least in his head if not in his bones, and between the daze of the physical change and the intake of this new environment, his bliss is rapidly approaching its expiration. Plus, there is that meddlesome incessant call to action in the back of his mind.
Come to think of it, didn't he have somewhere to be? He could've sworn...]
[introductions aren't awkward; what the actual fuck is this shit]
[The novelty of looking and feeling like he's fresh out of the Circle wears out pretty quickly. Something akin to but not quite panic builds up in him as he traverses the wreckage -- of what, exactly, he isn't sure. A ship of some kind, by the look of it and the talk of the crew, but it isn't one like any he's ever seen. And neither, for that matter, is the place it's crashed.
His first instinct is to approach the crew for help, but with the wreck, they clearly have their hands full with their own problems, and imposing would only set them back. And he'd rather help than stand there looking stupid, but he can't wrap his head around any of the equipment they're tending.
Eventually, he settles on wandering around to look for injured crew in need of help. The Fade may feel faint here, but surely he can summon enough magic to seal some wounds, though that would, of course, require him to find a prospective patient, and he still looks far more lost than on a mission.]
SLIP AND TRIP & DEALER'S CHOICE
INTRODUCTIONS AREN'T AWKWARD
[OOC: Will try to match prose or brackets! Hey, someone tell her about the Caducans somehow -- I think she might find the magical prophetic glass interesting.]
[Things are better in Arendelle than they were. The chaos that followed Elsa's coronation has been cleared. Hans has been sent packing. Elsa has skated with Anna, and it's spring again.
She walks through the halls of her castle, making plans for the future -- and suddenly she's on a rocky precipice. The air around her has completely changed, and one look shows that the ground is far below.
After a few minutes of bewilderment, then of slowly peeking out around the rocks to look at the alien landscape around and beneath her, she concludes that she can use her magic to get herself out of the most immediate part of this predicament. It can be a slide or a ladder or just a series of steps, as long as she can make them go from up here down to there. It won't get her home, or explain why she isn't there, but it will be a first step towards answers and assistance, and if she runs into trouble, she can defend herself.
She raises her arm to make ice and then loft it, the introductory step that she's most used to --
and her arm won't raise above her waist. Rather, the effort of doing so is incredibly taxing, and distracting enough that she momentarily sets aside the idea of getting down. She shoots a perplexed glance at her arm, then tries again.
The result is the same. The arm doesn't hurt: it's just tired, as if she's never had the strength in it to raise it any higher. She makes the same attempt a few times, frowning, to no avail, then decides to focus on the magic again.
It's not dependent on her ability to use her arm, so the ice does form, but it doesn't quite go where she wants to -- in fact, as someone wanders up to the base of the rock formation she'll be stuck on until she finds a way down, a shaft of forming ice misses them, thudding into the dirt a few feet away.
Her impulse is to apologize, but then she realizes that it's like it was before her coronation: she has no idea how they'll take the knowledge that she can do magic, especially a kind of magic that could be dangerous. It also occurs to her that she may not be able to climb down on her own after all if she can't rely on her arms. So instead, she shouts down, in a thin voice,]
Hello! Is somebody there?
[She has no idea who they are or where she is or why it's happened to her: nothing about any of this is familiar. It's terrifying in a way that overwhelms the self-assurance that she's only recently rediscovered. As she waits for a response from the person below -- no, people, there are quite a few of them! -- she shudders, and a thin frost forms on the rocks around her.
Whether it thickens into shards or vanishes will depend largely on the response she gets. She can still protect herself if she has to, probably, but not as well as she would have been able to without this sudden weakness.]
INTRODUCTIONS AREN'T AWKWARD
[Elsa's blue eyes are wide, fully focused on her conversational partner.
Her hand would be curled under her chin, but she still can't raise her arms, so her hands stay at her sides. She needs help standing and sitting, but can rest against things without much trouble. Although it's a source of great frustration, she does her best to seem calm and cheerful. Her arms worked before... surely she'll recover her strength sooner or later?
But until then, she needs occasional help getting around. Feeding herself is also difficult, but it's feasible if she props her arms up on a surface in front of her... otherwise, she sometimes needs help with that, too. She can still use her magic, but not with as much facility as she's used to. At least it's turned out that there doesn't seem to be a very good reason to hide it.
In every conversation, along with cautious, gracious appreciation for any assistance she receives, she tries to learn more about the situation she's found herself in.]
So the ship was called the Moira... and it wasn't a sailing ship?
[OOC: Will try to match prose or brackets! Hey, someone tell her about the Caducans somehow -- I think she might find the magical prophetic glass interesting.]
Edited 2016-12-03 09:21 (UTC)
☄ slip and trip
[ there's a severe-looking middle aged man with a face like an especially poor tempered hawk's, striding about in a velvety red coat. built like a 6' stick, could be intimidating, sounds Scottish as hell.
he looks entirely human (unless you can detect nonhumany-ness below the surface, in which case he's 100% not), save for the stony, dark grey coating over patches of his visible skin. on his hands and neck and a little bit of his face. but don't worry, it's only chalkboard. not dangerous, just kind of gross.
could be worse, probably. at least chalkboards are useful. ]
An abduction, fine, sure, why not. Must be Tuesday. Except your teleporter's developed a bit of a fault. [ point to: skin
he sounds pissy. that's not the important thing, however. this is the important thing, which he is loudly addressing to no one in particular: ]
Tell me, has anyone seen a blue box? A big, blue box, made of wood. [ makes a big (and presumably blue) box gesture with his arms. ] It says "police" on it; you know if it you've seen it. And if you have the slightest interest in getting off this stupid rock, I'll need it.
☄ introductions aren’t awkward
[ once that search has proven fruitless, he'll just accost random people he passes. ]
There aren't any short, belligerent potato men with big guns marching around here or anything, are there?
[ other introductory questions you can pick from include: whose idiot idea was all this? could they not have crashed on a more interesting planet? do the abductees all have anything in common? ]
☄ dealer's choice
[ otherwise he can be found scrabbling around the rocks, pointing some uh... buzzy thing at the environment, or writing seeming nonsense on himself with chalk. ]
[ there's a severe-looking middle aged man with a face like an especially poor tempered hawk's, striding about in a velvety red coat. built like a 6' stick, could be intimidating, sounds Scottish as hell.
he looks entirely human (unless you can detect nonhumany-ness below the surface, in which case he's 100% not), save for the stony, dark grey coating over patches of his visible skin. on his hands and neck and a little bit of his face. but don't worry, it's only chalkboard. not dangerous, just kind of gross.
could be worse, probably. at least chalkboards are useful. ]
An abduction, fine, sure, why not. Must be Tuesday. Except your teleporter's developed a bit of a fault. [ point to: skin
he sounds pissy. that's not the important thing, however. this is the important thing, which he is loudly addressing to no one in particular: ]
Tell me, has anyone seen a blue box? A big, blue box, made of wood. [ makes a big (and presumably blue) box gesture with his arms. ] It says "police" on it; you know if it you've seen it. And if you have the slightest interest in getting off this stupid rock, I'll need it.
☄ introductions aren’t awkward
[ once that search has proven fruitless, he'll just accost random people he passes. ]
There aren't any short, belligerent potato men with big guns marching around here or anything, are there?
[ other introductory questions you can pick from include: whose idiot idea was all this? could they not have crashed on a more interesting planet? do the abductees all have anything in common? ]
☄ dealer's choice
[ otherwise he can be found scrabbling around the rocks, pointing some uh... buzzy thing at the environment, or writing seeming nonsense on himself with chalk. ]
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