TEST DRIVE MEME 007

[larkers]

> TEST DRIVE MEME #007

Welcome to the Meadowlark test drive meme! After waking up in strange and rather worrisome conditions, characters will need to begin to live their lives in this new world. All TDM threads take place after the arrival process, so please assume that the initial adjustment period has passed – in which the characters were found after being dropped off in a random part of the city and had to live in a safehouse for four days before hitting the streets. Now it's time to see the bright sights and sounds that New Amsterdam – and beyond – has to offer.

All Meadowlark test drive memes will not be game canon because of the nature of our arrival logs. Please feel free to carry on relationships that make sense, but please keep in mind that the TDM may not reflect current circumstances in game.

Applications open every month on the 1st of the month at midnight UTC (00:00).
All applicants can use threads from the TDM for their samples.

NOTE: The PCs have chosen to call themselves "the Displaced," and that's become the common parlance to refer to them.

> SETTLING IN

There is very little that can smooth over the experience of your arrival in this world. Coming to your senses in a van, drugged and restrained, only to be carefully helped out by the unknown guards and nurses and then abandoned in an alleyway. What comes after is relatively straightforward: you're found by others and taken back to a safehouse that is hidden under an old hover bike shop. You aren't the first group that this has happened to: there are others not from this world who have experienced the same, with no recollection of how they came here. Like you, they have few answers about what's happened to them. Maybe this knowledge brings you a growing sense of futility, or perhaps it inspires a deeper determination in you. But even as you begin to think on what to do next, life has to go on.

All of the new arrivals will be given a fake ID and a background that will lend them access to entry-level jobs. It may be overwhelming, but their fellow Displaced have found their footing enough to be able to help the newcomers. Two Morningstar agents will be around to take care of world integration and IDs – the rest will fall to the Displaced who arrived before. It would take at least a month's wages to put down a deposit on even the smallest apartment in the city, so everyone has a grace period before they have to leave the safehouse – and then some, depending on the kindness of who's running the show.

Morningstar's veteran agents will also make their purpose clear if asked: they are a group dedicated to fighting corruption and righting the wrongs of this world, though they're in the process of rebuilding the organization's branch in New Amsterdam from scratch, and they know that the people in charge of those efforts wouldn't mind a little help. It will be made expressly clear that this entire arrangement to get the Displaced situated in the world is meant to be kept a secret, and that especially includes Morningstar's assistance. Letting the world know about their involvement could cause big problems.

> EXPLORE THE CHANGES
Despite the lack of answers about why you're here, your fellow Displaced will be able to give you a rundown of the changes they've recognized in each other. Anyone who had powers before will find them gone. Anyone who was once an AI or in a completely artificial body will find that their current body is now fully human. Those with cybernetics will find that they've remained mostly untouched, though any primitive ones may be replaced with temporary ones that are improvements on the previous models.

◉ NEW ABILITIES. In the place of any powers that were lost, there is now a new power. These abilities are unique to each of the Displaced and seem to update over a certain period of time, with the changes appearing thanks to critical emotional events. One thing that's apparent is that the power seems to be linked to the Displaced individual's personality or life before this one, shaped according to who they happen to be. When this power appears, their chest glows with a blue light that shines from their sternum, and it can be triggered by anything: natural inclination or a moment of great stress. If someone's out in public when this happens, they might want to duck under cover lest the blue glow from their chest and the unusual power's appearance draws unwanted attention.

◉ EMPATHY BOND. No matter the circumstances or the conditions, every skin-to-skin touch of the Displaced triggers this empathy bond. Whether they touch hands, brush cheeks, or knock into one another on accident, they'll be met with the emotions of the person they've touched. Every instance of skin-to-skin contact will trigger an immediate empathic bond, letting you feel the other person's emotions and vise versa. While there's nothing that can be done to completely prevent this, someone can either decide to hold on and continue sharing that level of emotional intimacy, or let go and end the shockingly vulnerable exchange. If someone is particularly tactile but not fond of sharing their emotions, they might want to invest in a fashionable pair of gloves.

◉ MEMORY SHARE. Through a recent event, the Displaced unlocked the ability to share memories similarly to how they can share emotions. While unknown at first, the Displaced soon learned that they could share a memory with each other the same way they could share emotions. All they need to do is focus on a memory and touch the skin of their fellow Displaced, and then they could pass this experience along. These memories are shared through the eyes of the giver, granting the receiver a unique insight into the thoughts, feelings, and sensations during a specific moment in their life.

◉ DREAM SHARING. Once one, two, or five Displaced fall asleep, they may be able to find each other in their dreams. These dreams lead to the dreamers themselves feeling lucid and somewhat in control of their surroundings—though the control itself is ultimately dependent on the dreamer and how well they come around to understanding what's going on. Dream logic applies with the flow of time, but no one is able to spend their entire lives there. Lost powers are still gone for any of the Displaced, but they can use their dreams to practice any new ability that they've received. Memory shares and empathy bonds are just as possible within these shared dream states—if anyone doubts that another Displaced is really there, they can test the empathy bond to see if it activates.

◉ POWER SHARES AND UNIONS. The Displaced can share something of themselves with another Displaced by offering them an object that comes out of their chest. This object is meant to be symbolic of the person it comes from and significant to them in some way. When someone else takes hold of this object, they will get a sense of the owner's essence, along with temporary access to their in-game ability. Only when they give the item back do they give up the power in question. In addition, the Displaced are able to act in unison and create a fusion of their powers, making it so they can fight someone else with them at once. This ability is there from day one, but the power's ability will only ever present at its current stage.

> THE NETWORK
When the Displaced first showed up, Morningstar set up a private network for all of the Displaced to use in order to communicate. Most of the veteran Displaced are old hands at using the implant now, and will be happy to provide any necessary information on how to utilize this new tool and understand its application in daily life.

Early on, every newcomer receives access to the encrypted network, only available to you and the others like you, making contact between you easy and safe. Familiarize yourself with this network and dig in. Perhaps you're hoping to find some bigger answers, ask about the current nail polish trends in New Amsterdam, or want to play a game of "hot or not" among the Displaced.

◉ IDENTIFICATION. Everyone who gets set up with an ID gets access to Morningstar's network. In order to ensure that none of the Displaced stand out like sore thumbs, Morningstar's agents El and Gaby ensure that everyone has a name that makes it so they fit in among society. All usernames are thusly formed as firstname.lastname, with some room for creativity (Ziggy Stardust had a brief cameo, after all).

◉ PRIVATE COMMUNICATION. There are private, one-on-one modes of communication available as well, though without the security of Morningstar's encryptions, they're much less safe. You can make calls, send texts, make videos, and even interact with others in a VR simulation—however, it's made very clear that the government has a means of tracking this communication. Big brother is always watching.

> RESOLUTION DAY FESTIVAL

The day of April 26th is known to all United Nations citizens: it's Resolution Day. To everyone around the world, it's the day when the last known AI lifeforms were completely eradicated in 2101. While some might say that it's the day that the UN claimed victory over the AI, to people the world over it's the day that humanity managed to keep themselves from being wiped out. Little will be said in detail about the holiday itself, but a remedial bit of research will cover the six-year-long Xelkoven War between humans and AI. The war itself was started when the home security unit AI Elysian killed 50 households full of people, and the war itself was named after the largest artificial intelligence distributor at the time: Xelkov. Ultimately, a billion humans died in the war, and there was the very real risk that the rest of humanity could have followed if they hadn't devised a method to put down the AI for good.

The citywide celebration of Resolution Day starts early and finishes very late, so whether you choose to join in the fun, learn more about the history of the festival, or take advantage of the revelry for other, more nefarious goals, you'll have plenty of time.


As the festival sprawls wildly throughout the streets of New Amsterdam, it gives even the most desolate parts of the city new life with bright lights, noise, and plenty of food. Most businesses are closed for the day, but not all of them—if you've gotten yourself a restaurant, street cleaning, or corporate PR job, you might find yourself stuck on a double shift. Better snatch what small moments of enjoyment you can!

> ENJOY THE FESTIVITIES
Anything you'd think would be at a festival in the year 2512 is definitely at this festival. Food, games, dancing, alcohol, free stuff? It's all there for your enjoyment. While the city streets will be full of people, this isn't a bad day to try networking. Want to get a new job or find a way to pry some information out of someone when they're least likely to remember you? Try to butter them up—or use the powers you've been granted to get your way. If anything goes badly, at least you can slip back into the crowd.

◉ GAMES. Care to play a game? All attendees can play for free. Some games —like the hoverblade racing, the augmented reality fightboxes, and the street-wide bouts of laser tag—require a partner or a competitor, so you better hope someone's willing to do you a solid or bring out your competitive side. For anyone who's interested in something a little less hands-on, all of the city's biggest VR arcades will have setups with all the latest games. Hoping to get noticed for your gaming talent? This might not be the day to try to stand out, but anyone's down to try.

◉ FOOD TRUCKS. It's time to try the delicacies of New Amsterdam. Hundreds of food trucks have turned out today in droves with high hopes that they'll come away turning a profit. Down for some Mexi-German fusion? Or perhaps you're hoping that pad thai still tastes the same with grasshoppers? Share your food – or give away whatever you don't like. Food trucks are the hub of activity, and the busiest ones might be worth the time, but you'll be standing in line for a while.

◉ NETWORKING. There are other opportunities with the city being flooded with festival-goers. Whether someone is on a mission to try to test the current sentiments toward Morningstar or simply wants to charm some corporate execs, this might be the time to get it done. Whatever your cover story is, make it good. Whether you claim you're hoping to pitch an idea for some new tech or are more interested in seducing – or squeezing – some information out of them, following them into the next bar or karaoke booth may give you the perfect chance. But you might want a lookout to watch your back, a co-conspirator to keep them plied with drinks, or maybe you'll need a voice of reason to stop you from squeezing too hard. Discretion is the name of the game. Everyone can agree upon that.


> HISTORY LESSONS
Aside from your typical booths of free samples, charitable causes, volunteer applications, and white chocolate-covered beetles, you'll find an opportunity to learn about Resolution Day’s history. There are various stands available where—thanks to the augmented reality application of your neural implant—you can view videos about the origins of the festival and the reasons for celebrating. If you haven't done your initial search yourself, you'll be able to buff up on it here.

◉ VR SIMULATIONS. If you'd like to feel like a hero, the UNA are running several virtual reality simulations where you can be taken to the battlefield to fight alongside fellow soldiers, working to bring the outwardly robotic AI to submission. The virtual reality simulation interacts with your neural implant to give you the most realistic experience possible. If you don't ground yourself enough, you'll be certain that the sights, sounds, and smells around you are real as you march in formation toward the brutality waiting up ahead. Feel free to team up with a partner on a side mission, or maybe try to keep someone from plugging in for what could be a traumatic experience. Eerie, heart-wrenching music plays when you die, but is promptly followed by the image of several corporate logos reminding you that they sponsored this day and this event.

◉ SYMPATHIZERS. If you're uncomfortable with the concept of eradicating all AI, no one will understand why. AI sympathizers are not present among the native population. Everyone in this world has been raised with the understanding that AI only wanted to destroy humanity, and that everyone is lucky to be alive in spite of it. They have a deeply ingrained fear, and anyone claiming to formerly be an AI or android won't receive a very friendly response.

> CRIMINAL ACTIVITY

Traveling down from the hectic main city streets reveals a different side from the gloss and promise of New Amsterdam. Economic disparity runs rampant throughout the city, and many people are pushed to desperation, looking to find other ways to make ends meet. In the darker shadows, many illegal activities thrive, out of view of the authorities—or perhaps known and supported by corrupt individuals. Maybe you're out exploring, completing a task for Morningstar, or working a job in the place you excel. Whatever brought you to the rougher parts of town, you may want to watch your step, or else find the city eating you as it has so many others.

> ORGANIZED CRIME
Organized crime still has a strong foothold in the world, with gangs and more established families working with drugs, weapons, property, and black market cybernetics, to name a few. These organizations are sprawling units that regularly recruit new members into their ranks, so long as they can prove themselves by passing the intensive hazing. While there are two main mob entities in New Amsterdam—the Riverstone Mob and the Petrov Family—there are a handful of gangs that otherwise roam the streets. Some are loosely sponsored by the mob, while others are fledgling groups trying to gain clout. More than anything, these groups know they don't have the power of the corporations or government, and do everything to seize more power when they can.

◉ JOINING UP. Catching the eye of the mob is difficult, but not impossible. Getting into the larger gangs is less difficult, but they're still wary of anyone who doesn't know the ins and outs of how to duck surveillance, traffic drugs and supplies, and intimidate people without catching flack from the NAPD. The best way to start getting attention is through their clubs, casinos, and illegal gambling dens. Getting inside isn't always easy: it might take a few weeks of legwork to get an invite, but someone could try to strongarm their way inside or use some chicanery to make it a smoother endeavor.

◉ ESCAPE PLAN. Whether you went in to cause trouble or accidentally caused it by breathing the wrong way, it's good to have an escape plan in place. Does that mean fighting all the goons available? Maybe. What about stealing a hover bike and getting away? The good news is that hover bikes can fit where hover cars can't.If you've got the skills, you'll be able to weave through the chaos of the city and make a clean getaway. Just don't let the chase run for too long, or you'll have law enforcement on your ass as well.

> FIGHT CLUB
No matter the occasion outside, New Amsterdam's fight club events are held every evening. The bouncers at the door don't have too many scruples on who they let inside. All they care about is whether someone has the money to pay the cover charge.

The interior of the fight club reveals the sophistication of a business that's used to uprooting itself regularly. All the fights take place in a large cage in the center, and you remain on your feet while you enjoy the show. There is a special VIP section if you've been lucky enough to receive an invite or bribe your way in – just keep in mind that these invites are scarce, and you will have to have done something spectacular to earn the attention from someone high up the food chain. Regardless of where you end up, there is one rule: what happens in the fight club stays in the fight club. This tenant is law, and everyone's heard stories of the different (and sometimes extreme) lengths that have been taken to maintain it.

◉ FIGHT. It's time to sign up and test your chops against other fighters. Many of the fighters boast illegal cybernetic enhancements, so it would be a really good idea to have someone on hand who knows some first aid. Fights can either happen in duos or in one-on-ones depending on the signups for the evening.

◉ RINGSIDE CHAT. You might just want to enjoy the show, or use the opportunity to grill the bartenders for information. Just be careful not to make a fool of yourself. Asking too many questions might catch the wrong kind of attention – the kind that might find you being thrown into the ring, whether you wanted to be there or not. For all the blood spilled, these fight clubs thrive on discretion, so whatever you do, try to keep it quiet.

> A LIFE OF CHAOS

Life in New Amsterdam was once all festivals and people avoiding association with organized crime. Life in New Amsterdam these days is full of drama, citywide disturbances, and everything else that might be expected of an action film in progress. While there aren't many answers for what's happened to the Displaced, there is enough chaos going around that it seems like it may be connected to their arrivals.

The worst part is that New Amsterdam seems to struggle. Rather than being an anonymous backdrop to those action films, New Amsterdam is a bustling city full of life that never asked to be at the heart of this. When trouble hits, most repairs and restorations focus on helping those with money, while others are left forgotten living in tents and hoping for a helping hand. Recent circumstances have called for improvements in this area—there is more charitable work than ever before in New Amsterdam—but it's still a trying time.

Where the Displaced stand in all of this varies, but it's hard to ignore a city in trouble.

◉ DISPLACED VERSUS DISPLACED. Whether it's by manipulation of an outside force or through inhaling weird monster gas, sometimes the Displaced are at odds with one another. When some of these few heroes are fighting, it means that the city can be left in even greater danger. Other times, the Displaced might not be able to control themselves. Feeling a sudden surge of vengeance and hoping to follow through on it? That monster gas might be the cause. Want to finish out a nasty deal to get something back important? The monster gas won't be an excuse, but maybe someone can pretend it was. Life as a Displaced is wild sometimes.

◉ THE UNITED NATIONS ARMY. In fact, it's so wild that sometimes they come up against the extremely dangerous soldiers of the UNA. These soldiers are the military arm of the United Nations government. They aren't the average soldier, however. Dressed in thick black armor that acts as an exoskeleton for their bodies, they are basically invulnerable to any and all attacks. When fighting as a unit, they work perfectly in unison, making it so that they can quickly move to deny almost any and all attacks. They're also extremely resistant to any mental or emotional compulsion or manipulation, making them hard nuts to crack. Ready for a bossfight? They're the soldiers for it.

◉ MONSTERS. As for unconventional threats, there are the monsters. These creatures first turned up in giant form when the first batch of Displaced arrived, stomping all over New Amsterdam. The less unique version of the monsters are around 400m high, have lizard-like features, and tend to show up by tearing down a portion of New Amsterdam's city wall. And that's the less unique version. More unique monsters vary in size and make, seeming to be an amalgamation of a number of different creatures. Half-snake, half-dog? Seems odd, but it happens. The one consistent feature of all these monsters is they all have golden irises. Suffice to say that running into these creatures could be a problem.

> GO NUTS

Feel free to branch out and explore! Visit a doctor about some advanced cybernetics. Sneak through the city checkpoints and set out into the wilderness. Try to hop on a train bound for one of the world's five spaceports to see one of the colonies—though bear in mind the cost and difficulty of one of these joy rides. Experiment with some insect based versions of your favorite recipes. Perhaps you'd prefer to engage in some illegal street racing, spend some time getting used to the technology, or try to become a social media celebrity. Use the SETTING for inspiration and choose your own adventure!

> NAVIGATION

Comments

tenth doctor, doctor who.

[poosh]

» 01. NETWORK.

un: john.smith
Right! Hello! This is a bit fun, isn't it? A bit like Twitter and a bit not. We're all just shouting into the void, aren't we, and isn't that kind of the point? Anyway, I do actually have something to say, I'm not just blogging. Not just here to ramble, although I can definitely ramble. I'll tell you who can ramble, as well – Leonardo da Vinci. My mate Leo. Any opportunity! You'd say, 'Nice weather today, isn't it, Leo?' and he'd be off before you could say 'Sistine Chapel'. One of those people who's probably making some things up but he's such a good storyteller that you don't really want to call him out on it. Absolutely incorrigible. Brilliant mind. Where was I?
Right, yes. Anyone seen a big blue box anywhere?

» 02. HISTORY LESSONS.

[ If there's one thing the Doctor loves, it's a museum. If there's another thing he loves, it's a party. A festival is essentially somewhere in between the two, so – of course he's here, beaming as he wanders through the crowds with a dead grasshopper on a stick. How they got it on the stick is beyond him, but he'll try anything. He stops at every single booth with a dedicated level of interest, peering over shoulders, examining the wares on offer. When he finds the VR simulations, he almost drops the grasshopper in a mix of muted excitement and trepidation. The simulations themselves aren't his cuppa – he's far too old to be playing war – but the tech is interesting, and since there's no hardware to pick apart, the only way he can get a look at how it works is by diving in.

To his virtual partner, who presumably zipped in here a second or two before he did: ] You fancy nipping off the beaten track? [ A wry little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, widens slowly. ] C'moooon. They [ – a nod at the others in the simulation – ] can look after themselves. Might be fun.

» 03. MONSTERS.

[ This is more like it. Somehow, against all odds, he manages not to look like he's having too much fun as he skids around the corner, coming face to face – well, as face-to-face as you can be when you're the size of a pin compared to what you're looking at – with the creature. He's never seen anything like it, not quite. ] I'd say it's extra-solar, [ he says, managing to sound light and almost conversational over the tumultuous noise of disruption, to the nearest person to him, ] but look at it! 'S like – half-lizard, half-cat. Isn't that just the maddest thing you've ever— [ As he's talking – well, gushing, really – the creature whips around its scaled tail and sends a garbage can flying in his direction, knocking him clean over. ]

» 04. WILDCARD.

[ should the mood strike you, you may also find him nattering away at a fight club or trying to talk his way out of being dragged into a fight. i'm up for anything! ]

[purrsistence]

[ Speaking of half-cats, there's a half-human-half-cat girl nearby who just managed to duck the tail-lashing that caught the Doctor. She stands up again after he goes flying and... laughs, a little meanly, like she's having a good time. ]

Wow! That one really got you! Gotta be faster than that!

[ She does not, unfortunately, make any move to help him up. A rude child indeed. ]

01. @stephen.strange

[rehandle]

[ Are you ever just deeply exhausted the second you open the network

We’ll get to the inherent temporal disconnects later. First things first: ]

If it’s yours, unlikely. If not, you may want to redistribute your word count. Da Vinci stole the show.

History Lesson

[missleading]

[ Is this that "edutainment" thing she's heard about? It's gotta be. Phasing into virtual existence beside the Doctor, Minako hardly has any time to get her bearings before he calls over the noise.

Honestly, she's taking this pretty well for a kid. ]

Eh?

[ That's one way to divert her attention from the chaos. Gaping at him for a few seconds before putting on a forced smile, she shrugs slightly. ]

Sure. What did you have in mind?

[ He has to be a tour guide or something, he's got hardcore bumbling professor energy going. He can't be the only conductor on this train, it's probably fine. This is a good opportunity to learn more about the world she's woken up in. ]

jason todd | titans | ota

[overrate]

1. vr

[ it's been an extremely annoying first day. well, first day away from the quarantine section, or what the fuck ever. and he doesn't even have his suit? the more he thinks about it, the angrier he gets because all of this is bullshit. and it never would have happened, he tells himself, if someone just trusted that he could do the job.

yeah. of fucking course. however, the VR simulators intrigue him, and they're the first welcome distraction he sees all day. this is like... high tech, gee wiz style training. it has to be, right? sign him the fuck up. he is going to set whatever new record there can be. what he wasn't counting on was the next level immersion. that there would be other people there. "people." he's not entirely sure they are fake after awhile, given the fact that they respond to what he's actually saying.

but it's the battle. he feels like he's on top of the world until a building collapses-- and then explodes on him, somehow. and he flings the VR headset off]

What the fuck?!

2. no escape plan

[while he watches the network occasionally, he's more interested in the telltale signs of "shit is going down." All it takes is catching one shady transaction out of the corner of his eyes to further draw his interest. he may not be robin technically... (actually, he was 100% not expecting them to just accept "Robert Plissken" as an ID, but, uh, guess he gets to live his dreams now)

But he still had a sworn responsibility. And if anything, he's got way too much energy, and he's reasonably sure he can take on the world. he's tailing them-- and seriously about to throw his way into the fight. this can only go well, right? He's counted 6, 7 if he thinks about the assholes that might be hiding around corners. that's a totally reasonable number for him to take one on one-- no matter what Dick says.]

Piece of cake.

3. fight club

[ maybe you saw him get shoved back for not having the money to pay (while also flipping off the bouncer). or maybe you see him casually leaning against the wall close to the nearest back entrance to the club, but he is determined to get inside. not least because this sounds fun as hell, but also because there might be drinks he can lift from unsuspecting patrons. sure, there may not be any age limits here, so this is entirely unnecessary.

but also, old habits die hard. and honestly. it's the fight club. he wants in.]

4. wildcard

(send me a PM on this journal, and we can work out a starter!)

2;

[reneger]

( he's not out here getting up to shenanigans tonight. there's a mask he puts on for that; masks the chip implanted in his brain, covers his face so no one can read him. it keeps any--personal ties from getting accidentally linked back to what he gets up to after hours. and in a city like this? having that distance is necessary. jason already figured that bit out when he completely fucked over the first ID that'd been attached to him; attracted enemies in high places determined to kill him off and targeted anyone else he was involved with.

lesson learned, for the most part. his daytime identity doesn't wear the same shit he does after hours, jason carries himself a little softer, wears dark-colored contacts when he's roaming where there's a higher chance of getting caught on camera, just in case someone backtracks his face to matches malone. a little bit of extra insurance.

which is why it's an absolutely stupid move (when he spots some kid chasing after idiots he'd been stealthily tailing to see what the hell they were up to) to get involved in exactly what's going on. it's instinct that has him following remembered alleyways to try and cut him off before he gets too close, instinct that has his arm raising just as he's rounding the corner just high enough to slam across shoulders to try and knock him down onto his back before he manages to get any closer. )

davina claire | the originals

[pentagram]

NETWORK

@ davina.mikaelson
Are the tacos good? I'm asking for an actual friend.

[ don't judge her for wanting to take kol out on a cheap date. ]

FESTIVAL

[ while new orleans is a hub of activity, festivals, drinking, and murder, davina still feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable in the middle of this one. she stands off to the side with a scowl on her face and her arms crossed against her chest, eying the the street-wide games of laser tag.

look, no one can blame a girl who had her soul obliterated in a witchy death realm for wanting to play a damn game. it looks harmless enough—almost normal… not that davina has any inkling of what that means or how to play laser tag. but she feels trepidation at the idea of participating. what if she's not good enough? what if she messes it up? what if she's out before she can really get into it?

it's all so stupid and so human to worry about those things.

if she's not tapping her foot, it's her fingers against her arm that move with impatience. despite there being a lot more to do at the festival—the food trucks look like a good discovery and there's a cool reality game somewhere—all she wants to do is shoot somebody.

at least she gets to pull someone out of the way of a game of very passionate players. ] Hey! Are you okay?

MONSTERS

[ look, don't judge her for having a large stick in hand.

panting from running from the gigantic godzilla-wannabe monsters, she takes cover in a nearby alley way. if she had her connection to her magic, she'd be able to get rid of this monster and all of its friends with a few quickly murmured spells. instead, all she has is this… power that she's been given.

maybe if she waits it out, she can go find her friends and figure out a plan. taking shelter is only ever a temporary solution for someone like her.

too bad the universe has yet another set of plans for one davina claire.

spotting the monster turning around and spotting someone nearby, davina runs out and raises her hands. the lizard creature cries out in agony, taking a few stumbling steps back. ] Ugh! Come on! [ she grabs whoever roughly by the arm and pulls them into the dark alley way. ]

GROSS STUFF HERE FOR KOL
FESTIVITIES FOOD TRUCKS & EMPATHY BOND

[ when kol's hand brushes against hers, she discretely pulls her own away. every time they touch, she seems to feel… elation. it's a strange, out of place sort of elation—it's not hers. it's intense and heightened, so overwhelming she sometimes wonders if her knees are going to buckle underneath the weight of it.

it doesn't take a genius to figure out it's this place. every time she touches him, she feels… something. it's nice and reassuring, but it makes her head spin to think kol mikaelson loves her that much. that she can make someone feel that much.

pulling her hand away a little awkwardly, davina abruptly points to the food trucks. ] Do you want to get some food?

[ it's not that she doesn't want to hold kol's hand… or be around kol… or touch kol… it's just that she doesn't want him to get a handle on what she's feeling. while it's definitely been an overwhelming sense of relief and safety since waking up here, she also feels… scared and angry.

so, so very angry. ]

WILDCARD

[ if there's anything you wanna do that i didn't do we can do it together (￣▽￣)ノ. canon point is season 3 finale. her power in game is molecular speed manipulation :). feel free to assume cr already since this won't be game canon! ]

@caroline.forbes

[gasping]

[ squints @ "mikaelson" ... too bad caroline's a s2 tvd baby who knows jack shit ]

the grasshopper ones are gross, but there's a good fish taco truck

[ have some coordinates to a small industrial park near the pulsar headquarters, davina, you're welcome. ]

bucky barnes / marvel 616

[deadthenred]

001. exploring the changes

[ The first thing Bucky does is make the bed. He isn't sure why. It isn't a nice bed, and it doesn't feel like it belongs to him. It's a funny thing about safehouses— they never feel safe. But he notices something in how his fingers catch, doing this regular work, so after he is finished folding the sheets over his blanket, US Army style, he sits at the foot of the bed and starts looking at his arm. His left arm, the one that isn't flesh. They must have done some adjustments on it when he was under, and he hadn't noticed while he was drugged.

He sits there, for a good five minutes, moving his metal fingers, trying to figure out what's been changed. ]

002. dreams

[ It looks like a newsreel, but the dirt is brown and red and the noises are all in color. Only the sky is grey. Bombs fall out of biplanes, and smoke, and the smell of burning oil. There are corpses on the ground wearing pea-soup colored helmets that didn't help enough and pieces of rooftop paving the street. You can't see them, but you know the enemy is nearby, waiting like steel for flint.

Only two figures are clearly visible. The one is dressed in the American flag, and somehow, the whites in his costume aren't stained. The other is Bucky, wearing blue underwear over red tights and a small mask that doesn't do much to obscure his identity. He's younger, maybe seventeen, and he's carrying a Thompson sub-machine gun. ]

Cap! Cap! Look out for the internet!

003. monsters

[ He is only a few miles from the safehouse when he sees the yellow irises flash from the alleyway. It can't be one of the giant monsters he's heard about— this one is only the size of a Manahattan dumpster.

Which is still a lot bigger than Bucky.

He looks to the person next to him, who he knows is one of his fellow Displaced. ]

Please tell me you are packing heat.

[ Bucky just got here and they've taken all his guns. ]

004. [Bad username or site: bucky @ barnes]

Has anyone heard of the Avengers?

[ Step one in Nick Fury's Alternate Universe Handbook: try to find the people you can work with. Probably. ]

001. // can i really only pick one?

[thinline]

[ this reality has been the most unsettling wraith has experienced in a long time. even after a few weeks of "settling in," her skin still crawls with the memory of numbness and confusion… and anger. hair shaven, a neural implant, stripped of everything she had and was again… she'd built herself back up over the course of 5 years, and suddenly it's all back to square one.

still, she's quieted herself enough to not feel instantly triggered by it all. being surrounded by newcomers—displaced—just like her, going through the motions, is sobering.

she's noticed one of them in particular continues to stare at his metallic arm. prosthetics aren't strange to her, but she empathizes with the long, self-questioning gaze.

maybe it's time to forge connections. calmly and curiously: ] What's missing there?

kate bishop | marvel 616 | re-app??? idk what i'm doing it's fine

[fledges]

Exploring the Changes

[Kate isn't really sure how she ended up at the safehouse. One second she was in her crappy, rundown apartment on the other side of town, and now she's... not. She's used to weirdness, especially after landing here, but she has absolutely no idea what's going on. Absently, she runs her fingers through her hair and finds that it's longer. The realization sends a shiver down her spine, and confusion turns to something deeper, something harder to shake off.

Get it together, Kate, she tells herself, shoving the anxiety down. It's fine. Well, okay, it's not fine, but it comes with the territory. Freaking out isn't going to do anything.

The little pep talk doesn't do much, but at least she's on familiar ground. It makes it easier to start searching the building for friendly faces, which... are apparently hard to come by. Those who have been here a while but don't recognize her might be savvy enough to notice that she doesn't quite have the shellshocked look of a new arrival, despite her confusion. Every time she sees a shock of black hair and realizes it isn't Loki or Jason or Damian, she has to quell the rush of disappointment.

Eventually, she just reaches out to tap the shoulder of the next person she sees.]

Hey, what day is it?

[Totally normal question, right?]

Enjoy the Festivities

[So, something deeply weird has happened. Apparently she disappeared for months and just... popped back at the safehouse like nothing. It bothers the hell out of her, and eventually she can't handle staying there anymore. She heads out into the city, only to run into the festival.

It's not like anything else could make her feel more disconnected and weird, so... Food trucks. Sure. Whatever. One of the sellers shoves something into her hands, something that looks suspiciously like chocolate-covered grasshoppers on a stick, and she wrinkles her nose.]

You're going to have to put a lot more chocolate on this if you want me to buy it.

Wildcard

[Hit me with something else, or tweak one of my starters, and I'll run with it!]

just play it cool, bishop. also, festival prompt bc grasshoppers are A+

[thinline]

[ Similar to Kate, Wraith felt antsy at the safehouse and needed to take a walk. Figures a festival is going on. Locals parading, colours everywhere. It looked like a celebration in Solace, especially ones before a new season started for the Apex Games. It was uncanny, but the scarf-wearing Legend is here now, so why the hell not dive into these famed chocolate-covered grasshoppers.

With less nose wrinkle and more disbelieving stare, Wraith stands by the food truck window contemplating her decision and responding to the new customer's commentary. ]

I want to say I've eaten weirder, but these don't like regular grasshoppers. Save your money and split this with me, maybe?

Wraith | Apex Legends

[thinline]

1 > NETWORK

@renee.blasey
Squad up or verse me. I'll either help you win or take your crown. Your choice.

2 > LASER TAG

[ if anyone wants to follow up on her gaming invitation and/or taunt, wraith is strapped up and waiting for the next match. for the first time, her heart races the way she wants it to. ]

3 > NEW ABILITIES

[ safehouse. safe house. house? more like a refugee camp. it reminds her of the frontier war's straggling battles and the aftermath of sick and injured on the road to recovery—because that's what the displaced are, what she is, for now.

and it aches.

the head voices that burdened her so many years before are sorely missed. now, everything is too quiet. too dark. too—ugh, stop complaining and do something!

uncaring of who's around watching or listening, she paces while gripping her right wrist. her fingers curl, shaking as she focuses her energy into that hand. come on— what should be happening isn't happening. that familiar blue-white crackle of the Void doesn't appear. instead, the harder she tries, the more painful her chest feels. she grits her teeth, resisting, until she can't anymore. blue light glows hot beneath her shirt, and wraith falls to her knees coughing. ]

@wanyin.jiang

[sandu]

Sound so sure of yourself.

lancer (fate)

[lannaire]

:: network
[Bad username or site: lancer @ glas]
ok so compared to the lot of you im not a stranger to being kidnapped to some weird place and being told what to do

but seriously? my hair?

whose ass do i have to kick for that?

:: safehouse
[ lancer is, typically, lounging as if he hasn't got a care in the world like it is just every day that you wake up in some strange lands - there's nothing to it really, give it a few times, a few centuries of practise, and you'll ease into it like nothing else. look, he's already all dressed and cleaned up and everything!

except it isn't like any of the other times he's been summoned. just a few minor differences, like how his powers seem to have been sealed away. at first he thought it must be some kind of spell he isn't aware of - but after spending a few days here, lancer is beginning to realise that things aren't that simple.

if anyone is nearby, he is going to reach over and tap them on the shoulder, trying to catch their attention. ]

Hey, just try to punch me.

:: games option a
[ it seems safe enough to bet on a bunch of kids trying to stay on a hoverboard - and by which he means everyone's gonna come out a loser, because wow these people are bad. lancer watches curiously for a few minutes, leaning his elbows against the railings as they whiz past the cheering crowds, and remarks after a few minutes: ]

Doesn't seem like it's that difficult.

:: games option b
[ now, drinking competition, that's more like it. ]

Hahaha! You call this horse-piss something worth drinking?

[ despite the hard words, lancer is grinning from ear to ear, and he sits on a chair at the long communal bench, a jug in each hand. ]

I've had better, this tastes like some dirty bathwater!

[ why are you still drinking it then... ]

Hey, [ calling out, once he catches anyone's eye: ] Have a try of this, and tell him that it tastes horrible.

:: wildcard
[ hit me! i can also do toplevels! ]

games option b

[impede]

—Ah—what makes you think that I'm old enough to drink in the first place? [he asks, though Akechi is old enough (eighteen, that is). It's his natural inclination to respond to anyone loud, rowdy, and drunk with a sense of difficulty. Yes, he wants to be an asshole.

Hell, it's more interesting to take that route in the first place.]

I can't help but ask: how often are you drinking your bathwater? I'm not opposed to the idea—water is rationed quite regularly—but I believe you're going much too far.

elizabeth comstock | bioshock infinite

[metaphysic]

01 > NETWORK

[Bad username or site: elizabeth @ dewitt]

Excuse me. Has anyone seen a sort of... oh, I'm not sure how to describe it. Any kind of shimmering rifts in the air? You might hear music, or voices, or see something strange through them. I just need to know if they've started to appear here.

02 > FESTIVAL

Oh, I've never seen anything like this!

[ she bounces around quite unabashed from stall to stall, talking to vendors with a childish excitement — she asks what everything is, praises the ingenuity or the craftsmanship of it, promises she'll be back later, she just has to see everything first. more than once, she can be found dancing with strangers, and she seems to be having the time of her life.

if she spots someone who she recognises as a fellow Displaced, she'll make a beeline for them and grab their hands, tugging at them. ]

Do you want to play a game with me? I-I don't know any of these, but I can learn!

03 > CHAOS

[ she can't fight. she's not Booker. but neither can she just sit by and watch when there are people in need of help. the best thing she can do in this situation, she decides, is to get people off the streets — take them somewhere safe, with the help of Morningstar's resources and her own new probability awareness powers.

unfortunately, those powers are still in their earliest stages, and she can't be aware of everything. she's helping an older homeless woman through the backstreets and alleyways when their path is cut off by a monster the size of a large dog. Elizabeth freezes. she can't fight. she's not Booker. she doesn't even have access to tears anymore, and being able to discern which choice is more likely to result in a positive outcome won't help her not get killed.

she backs away slowly, keeping the woman behind her, but in the end all she can really do is cry out: ]

A-Anyone? Help!

chaos

[strove]

[Bullets don't do jack against monsters of that size. They could barely touch a gorilla, and the gorilla was—as far as the inexperienced Clarke could tell at the time—still little more than a gorilla. She strides forward, gun in hand at her side. If this goes badly, she'll need to take drastic measures. Clarke's taken them before with these creatures. She knows what will happen to her.

But she also knows better than to not distract a creature to help someone be safe.

She raises the gun, pointing it at the creature's head.]

Move! Don't worry—I won't dawdle myself.

[Not reassuring, maybe, but Clarke holds the gun like someone with a lot of experience in wielding one. It's a start.]

makoto niijima ; persona 5

[honourstudent]

food trucks;

[Curious to try different varieties of food that were harder to acquire in Japan, Makoto has been looking at the various street food stands with genuine interest. Unsure of which one to try first, she eventually settles on going for the one that has the consistenly longest line.

Surely if so many people are waiting to stand in such a line, it must be worth it.

She taps her foot as she waits in line, doing her best to be patient, but as the minutes tick by she becomes a bit more restless, peering around the other people in front of her to see how quickly customers are getting their orders.]

...this had better be worth it.

organized crime; escape plan

[Someone apparently wanted to take advantage of a highschool girl who'd ventured into the wrong part of town. Or, they assumed she hadn't meant to come here, when in reality she'd just acted stupid to try and get herself out of the situation.

It had only worked long enough for her and the person who was brave enough to come with her to run outside, her motorbike parked on the curb.

She hops on, gesturing quickly for the other to hop on behind her.]

Hurry!

fight club;

[Asking too many questions is kind of her thing, whether by necessity or sheer curiosity, and it's gotten her into trouble again. A man, who towers over her, grasps her wrist and pulls her along toward the ring, but she puts up a struggle worth watching.]

Let go of me right now!

[If someone doesn't come to her rescue and talk the man down, she'll stomp on his foot as hard as she can, ripping her wrist from his grasp as he curses out loud.]

fight club

[impede]

[Putting it—mildly, Akechi has a complicated relationship with the Niijima sisters. Sae was someone he could view as a friend, but he never let himself do that. She was a mark. Someone to fool. Someone to use and have as a face for his operations, making it so that he could utilize her as a scapegoat for mistakes. Despite that, she ... dealt with him. Brought him to cheap sushi (that he preferred more than regular sushi, despite his attitude saying otherwise). Respected him. And more.

Such complications extended to Makoto. Of course they did. He mocked her and derided her to see how she'd react (and oh, she did react), but it proved to be something that didn't work in his favor (strengthening the Phantom Thieves was never a good idea). He knows she was instrumental in his failure. He knows that, but she confessed to envy of him.

Akechi has no doubt that Ren has told her that he's here, but he's avoided her for many of the above-mentioned reasons. Too many complications. But his time in the fight club was meant to be a quick lead for some credits. He didn't intend to bet a lot, but he wanted to be seen betting period. A way to explain his sudden influx of credits.

He does wait until she fights back. He knows that she can. (Sae can fight, too, of course.) And then he swoops in, taking the man by the wrist, looking him in the eye—

—and then there is a hint of blue that glows just above the collar of his shirt. The rest is concealed. The man turns wildly, jerking away from Akechi, mouth sliding into a twisted expression.]

Now, I believe, is the time to go. [He points vaguely behind him, indicating for Makoto to follow.]

eugene hicks | oc

[preseance]

  ➲ food'll be the death of you;

( new york in the thirties it ain't. nor london in the forties, shell-shocked an' pocked with the truth of the war. his war, not the one they're decryin' with their song an' dance.

five hundred years done and gone and dust like it's a day. yet, there ain't much that changes of human nature. the buildings are taller. ain't a soul alive who knows what a telegram is. yet he sees the echoes of ages past. folks're still folk. an' new amsterdam makes about as much sense as any place he's ever been. the city's alive an' breathin', it sucks in air and shudders like a beast an' he walks the slick concrete spine of its streets.

yet. there ain't no ghosts. an' he knows on some level fundamental it's the nature of this place. give an' take. he even knows what he can do instead — lay hands to a body an' make it well. it's useful an' welcome besides. how much sufferin' could he have eased from gela well past the maginot line? yet losin' the ghost sight is a blow he hadn't expected. losin' reg. all over again, the man ain't even put to rest in a grave an' gene's mournin' him twice over. yet, reg' wouldn't begrudge him havin' another war to fight. puttin' the grief aside until the job's done.

the human spirit ain't nothin' if not adaptable. so he adapts. new amsterdam sure as hell ain't new york, but he learns it just the same. an' the food.

christ o'lordy, he ain't never seen so much in one place. couldn't have ever imagined any spread approachin' what's laid on out. an' folks just throwin' out what don't immediately please their palate — he can't even fathom the waste.

he knows better than to eat too much all at once. lean years'd put the fear of god into him an' he'd end up makin' himself sick more'n'anythin'. so he paces himself. samples a few things. it isn't until he finds himself saddled with an entire cake that he starts lookin' a little out of his depth.

he'll flag your character down with an apologetic little smile. there's a cigarette at one corner of his mouth, he talks around it with a practiced sort'a ease. )

Ah... sorry, hope it ain't no trouble, but I ain't gonna eat the whole thing an' I'd just as soon it not go to waste. Y'mind helpin' a fella out?

  ➲ fight club ain't all it's cracked up to be.

( violence don't speak to the soul of him, but he ain't one to shy away from the world none, either. this place may've displaced him from a life he knows an' loves, he may run the risk of never seein' his pa an' brothers again so long's he lives, yet.

he heals.

an' that's a gift no matter how you look at it an' no matter what else's been taken. so he stands ringside, an' soon as the deciding's been done an' the folks ushered outta the ring, gene's on the nearest of 'em. if they look like they need support standin' he'll do that unasked, slippin' into somebody's personal space with the polite deference and deftness of someone long accustomed to servin' in this capacity. )

Hey. If'n you don't mind me bein' a stranger, I can patch you right on up.

( that alabama drawl kicks like a goddamned mule, but his tone's warm an' easy. )

  ➲ everybody do the monster mash;

( lotta folks think that medics are insane. how many folks run towards gunfire and smoke without any intention of returnin' fire? yet, ain't a medic worth their salt that won't sell their lives dear if it's down to it. most folks on the german line respect the cross, but he ain't wearin' the uniform or his band tonight.

an' anyway, monsters don't care one whit so much as noncombatants go.

gene's just rounded a corner an' come face to face with somethin' that looks like it came out of a penny novel, big an' surly an' snarlin', gold eyes glinting in the light. gene takes a step back an' away from it. wary, but he ain't stupid. animals give chase. he works his jaw off to one side. reckons he can probably just ease back until he's gone an' then maybe alert the others that there's somethin' here. he sure as hell can't fight it on his own.

an' that'd be all well an' good an' fine, but another soul is headin' on towards him unaware of the danger, an' the monster swivels its head to track the approaching footsteps. they're in a t-junction, an' another few yards an' the other person'll be well in its line of sight. )

Fella ( or ma'am, gender according — gene's voice is soft an' calm, not a hint of unease but for the furrow to his brow an' the way he holds up one hand to keep 'em at bay. ) take my word you don't wanna walk another step.

 ( ooc; wildcard me or toss me a pm or a pp at vitarays. happy to write custom starters. no problem with cross-medium or any canon imaginable so lay it on me, pallerinos. )

give her the food

[evocation]

[Kyna is here because she desperately, desperately needs to be distracted from the panic that's settled into her chest. Her nerves are buzzing, and even days here haven't done anything to ease them. In fact, it might have made them worse. The logical thing would be to try to figure out exactly what's going on, to look for someone familiar and make a plan. It's what her brother would do. She's too overwhelmed to manage it.

She's found some sort of ridiculous fruity, slushy, boozy thing, and she's taking a sip when Gene flags her down. She hesitates, thrown by his cadence and syntax. What is he, from the fifties?

But also, he's offering her free food. So.]

Uh, sure. Where'd you even get that thing?

Kettara Bloodthirst | World of Warcraft | OTA

[oldtonew]

Safehouse

[ It has been two days since she arrived. The situation has been explained more than once. The answers remain unsatisfactory, but Kettara isn’t one to deny the truth of a situation. She’s alive and upright, so she will endure. It’s the orcish way, though Kettara fears

Her hair has been cut off, her armor and jewelry gone just like her weapons. And there is a great, awful void in her soul where the elements used to reside. She’s spent every waking hour meditating, calling out to the spirits to answer her, to send her some sort of guidance.

The silence is awful. She is alone in all ways. It feels like punishment and offers no means for her to atone.

Kettara paces, for lack of a better idea. There is no on there who looks like her. Everyone she’s met has smelled human and looked upon her strangely. Her height and skin mark her irrevocably as different. Never before has she felt so obvious, drawing attention just by existing in this place. The truth is simple. If she is not attacked on sight, she will be challenged.

If she is challenged, she will have to fight. And she is unarmed.

The elements may have abandoned her, or perhaps these humans have cut something essential out of her, some piece that marked her as orcish and now renders her strange and alien to the elements, but Kettara Bloodthirst knows her own measure. She will fight. She cannot be herself if she does not fight.

And if she is not given a weapon, then she will make one.

She can be found scrounging through the safe house, digging through trash and bits of refuse until she finds a suitable piece of metal. Then, with great care, she will begin sharpening the edges.

She will not go down easily. Her ancestors would never forgive the shame of it. ]

What are you looking at?

[ Her voice is low and rough, an undercurrent of anger sparked throughout. She’s wearing human clothes, a hood pulled over her face, but her eyes gleam red in the dark. She stands, makeshift knife held in one hand. A clear warning. ]

Well?

Fight Club

[ Most of the people here are human, or smell like it. Exactly none have been orcish and those that have seen her have reacted strangely, staring at her tusks and the cast of her skin. That cannot be changed and Kettara knows better than to begin a war when she’s been so thoroughly knocked off balance.

This place is strange to her. She has been made strange by being in it. There’s a heaviness in her chest where something has been placed, and she knows instinctively that she has been changed, that things have been done to her that will not be easily undone.

More than anything, she fears she has somehow become un-orcish. That these people, whatever their means, have changed her in some fundamental way.

A troubling thought. She hunkers down on the walkway above the action, watching the violence below. The fight club rages down below. There are other spectators around her, drinking and talking, but not as many. The view is better down below.

But in the dark, she can sit and not be seen. Kettara hates that she must hide. She would rather be down in the thick of it, even if it meant fighting humans in the ring. Especially if it meant fighting humans in the ring. The violence would be stark and sudden. It would feel good, she knows, to hurt one. To fight and know she was honorable for doing it.

She doesn’t move. She sits on the edge and stares. ]

Are you going to fight?

[ Her voice is low and rough. She does not look at the figure she addresses. ]

You should go down, if you are.

Wildcard

[ Hit me! ]

safehouse

[inherited]

[Riku doesn't answer right away, but he's used to this kind of composure. Someone being on edge. Someone seeking a way out, feeling as if they're trapped and gutted by this situation. Not only does he recognize it—he's felt it, lived it, felt it tear him apart until he lost all sense of logic or reason. A short stay in a safehouse doesn't compare on any level. But he doesn't know where someone came from before. If they were trapped before.

Heck, he doesn't know if they were trapped here. None of them do.]

I was wondering if you needed some help. That's all. [Riku casts a glance at the piece of metal. Well, it's better than the wooden swords he and Sora practiced with growing up. And something like that depends upon the wielder.]

I'm guessing you're gonna tell me "no." I'm used to that, too.

Terrence Ephemera/Sharkface | Red vs. Blue

[requiemshark]

Safe House

[ For lack of a better idea, Sharkface is drawing. A pen and notebook were provided when he asked, which might have been kind except that his armor is nowhere to be seen and they’ve taken his guns too. Now there’s nothing but him, his borrowed clothes, and his goddamn scars to glare out at anyone who comes too close. He thought about making a fuss before he realized there wasn’t much point in it and he’s come to something like a reckoning.

This is happening. This will be endured. He’s patient. He’s survived worse.

In the meantime, he’s sitting at a card table and sketching. Faces, mostly. The Displaced. What a name. ]

Heard they banned cigarettes in these parts. ‘

[ He glances from his work briefly. ]

You fucking believe that?

[ God, he could use a cigarette. ]

Food Carts

[ Even under the circumstances, Sharkface isn’t one to turn down real food. All around him are people digging into fried or battered monstrosities, powdered sugar all over their hands and clothes. It’s loud and messy and full of life. And even though he’s out of armor and far from home - or at least recognizable terrain - he likes the noise of it all. A little bit of chaos.

Anything’s better than prison, at this point. Or the humiliation of failing yet again to fulfill his promises.

He’s chewing on something sweet, getting sugar all over his hands. It’s probably rotting his teeth and he loves it. Likes that he can walk around in a crowd - not entirely unnoticed, with a face like his - but without people stopping him. There’s no need for violence to get where he’s going, which is novel and almost pleasant. ]

This happen often?

[ He’s leaning against a wall, watching the crowd. He’s got a hood up, covering the worst of his scars, but there’s no hiding the plasma burns or his bad eye. ]

It’s nice.

Fight Club

[ It’s nice, knowing that brutal, bareknuckle violence is a constant across the galaxy. A sort of mediating force. Look, we really are all the same deep down. Let’s put money on this guy beating the shit out of that guy.

Makes things easy.

He fights a few rounds. Hits, gets hits, laughs when he bleeds, and finally staggers out to enjoy the adrenaline rush of the aftermath. He’s been hit hard more than once, but nothing’s broken and the bruises will fade when they’re ready.

His grin is wide and jagged. But friendly, despite the severity of it. The scars conspire to make him look intense even when he’s laughing, as he is now. ]

That was fucking awesome. You gonna fight too?

Wildcard

[ Hit me! ]

Fight club

[unlucky7]

[Among the roar of the crowd watching the fight, Ginia is a point of crowd. She doesn't cheer, she doesn't look dismayed or excited. There's a flicker of a smile or appreciative nod at a good hit or a solid underhanded move, a sympathetic wince at any crunching or wet punches. But mostly she watches with the calculating calm of someone gathering information. What she'll do with the information or how remains to be seen, but information is information.

Even if it's nothing more than who to bet on or who to avoid, she'll take it. One way or another, she's going to survive this goddamn place.

Ginia cocks her head as one of the fighters addresses her, a thin challenge of a smile matching his. The burn scars are nasty, but life is nasty.]

Not quite my style.

[Ginia doesn't speak, but instead signs in ASL. She's still not happy about another implant in her system, but she can't begrudge the language translation when it works in her favor.

Her words aren't a lie, but not the truth either. Her hands are a bit bruised around the knuckles, she's a solid 5'10" with a strong back, shoulders, and arms. Can fight, has fought in the ring, but it's true; not her style.]

Good fight.

Washington | Red vs Blue

[hardwearing]

> EXPLORE THE CHANGES

i. safehouse

[ Wash is, unsurprisingly, having some trouble accepting all of this. He's settled... a bit, in that he's gotten the lay of the land and the situation, but certainly isn't comfortable. Knowing as much as possible has helped enough that he's walking around but he's on edge. When even was the last time he was out among people without his armor like this? Not since leave during Freelancer, probably, and he feels completely naked. Like one of those nightmares where you're giving a presentation in front of the class and suddenly your clothes are gone, but a million times worse because it feels unsafe.

Right now he's wandering the safehouse, looking for supplies to start a stockpile or anything with which to protect himself, but he isn't coming up with much. He lets out a huff and walks back down the aisle intending to return downstairs... and is quickly learning that he relied far too much on his armor's trackers. He didn't hear anyone approach and bumps directly into someone standing right around the corner, looking at soap.

A brush of skin will transmit his intense frustration, fear and uncertainty at being stuck here, and a stubborn denial that he's going to get home no matter what he has to do. He was retired, goddamnit. ]

--I'm sorry.

[ It comes out in a frantic rush as he jerks back, mentally cursing himself and his lack of armor. God, he needs it. It's protection in every way, but the fact is he doesn't have it and he has to deal with that. He has to be more careful.

Can he flee from this encounter? Fuck. ]

> ENJOY THE FESTIVITIES

ii. food trucks

[ Okay this? This, Wash could get used to. It's been.... fuck, how long was it since he was in an actual city, with good food? Food not grown in a vat and served out of a packet on a metal tray? Chorus had only been slightly better than what he was used to, what with the strict rationing going on there. And it was still chow, not things cooked for taste. He wanders through the rows of trucks and stalls, completely overwhelmed and bewildered by the variety. Every now and then he catches a whiff of something amazing and is drawn over to order by that more than the information on the menus.

Which is how he winds up eating a grasshopper burrito. They're not a strange protein to him, he remembers loving them as a bar snack on leave, but passerby may find it strange.

It's also a little too spicy for him, and he can be seen breathing in and fanning at his mouth in vain. He definitely needs something besides the water he has on hand. ]

> CRIMINAL ACTIVITY

iii. ringside chat

[ Well this sure is something. Wash was just curious, knowing that sometimes people need to burn off their energies a certain way, but he hadn't expected it to be quite so brutal. It seems organized but there's blood they haven't bothered to clean up splattered on the floor all over, and two people have been hauled out of the ring completely unconscious and probably seriously concussed. Odds are he could hold his own from what he's seeing, but oof. They're fighting almost as if it were to the death, not just for training or sport or to blow off steam. Someone comes up beside him where he's watching, oddly mesmerized, and he blinks and glances at them.

There's a chance they've been here longer than him, maybe they know if this is the norm. ]

Is the money that good?

> A LIFE OF CHAOS

iv. displaced vs displaced/united nations army

[ Above all else, Wash himself is a soldier. But he's used to fighting in his power armor, and he knows when he's outmatched. All the strategic planning and training in the world doesn't mean much when he's completely unarmed and against a whole battalion. He didn't even do anything in this case, though -- the military force passes him by on their way into the smoky looking area of the city that he'd been hanging back from worriedly, and he takes as close a look as he can get at their gear.

It's nice.

He pulls his shirt sleeve over his hand and covers his mouth and nose, and follows them up to the edge of the gas. Sounds like there's some kind of riot going on, and helping could be a chance to prove himself, get some more information from the soldiers themselves maybe. But as he moves forward, the cloth over his face really does nothing to keep him from inhaling whatever the hell it is. He can feel it burning his lungs instantly, and even backing away doesn't stop the feeling coming over him. ]

What--?

[ He knows this feeling. And all the things he's upset about turn to vengeance. He wants a fight. He wants to take his presence out on someone. It feels both wrong and very right at the same time, and Wash grits his teeth, curls his hands into fists. In the distance, he hears shouting and blows landing. Does he join in? ]

THE FIRST ONE

[evocation]

[Kyna is certainly not settled in any sense of the word. She is, to be blunt, absolutely freaked, and the fact that her magic is just... not working makes her feel like she's drowning or about to have a panic attack or both. She's trying to distract herself because she doesn't know what the fuck else she's supposed to do, and then someone bumps into her and she jumps.

Worse than that, though, his skin brushes hers, and it's less the fact that she can feel his emotions than that he can feel hers that makes her pull her arm away like she's been burned. Her emotions aren't all that different—fear and frustration, but more than that, an undercurrent of panic. She takes a short step back and sucks in a sharp breath.]

Uh, it's fine. I was just...

[She gestures awkwardly at the soap. God, this guy's huge. No wonder he didn't see her.]

Fenris | Dragon Age | ota

[magicalglowstick]

doesn't phase him

[In some dark corner of the city, in an alley closed off by a wrought-iron gate, an elf covered head to toe in markings was pacing back and forth with a hand to his chin, scowling like someone had kicked his puppy. Should you watch this go on for a little longer, you'll see him soon turn to the gate and huff out a breath as he appears to prepare for something.

His sternum glows along with it the markings all over his skin. His face contorts in pain but he ignores it and moves towards the fence...

...and slams right into it with a resounding thunk.

One would think after an hour or two of this he would give up, but instead he feels nothing but an increase in frustration at his situation. The burning sensation in his chest is oh so familiar, which doesn't help much in the way of his anger. He doesn't even realize he's practically growling as he bends at the knee, gripping his chest until a large crystalline spike juts out of his shoulder.]

Kaffas.

"enjoying" the festivities

[It's far too crowded here and people wouldn't stop staring at his ears. Nothing particularly new, truthfully, but in such a dizzying new place where the surreality of the situation was constantly looming over him it certainly wasn't helping his mood any.

Also, his stomach grumbled. Hence why he scurries through the gathering crowds until he spots something he's very familiar with. Apples. He really just wants something in his stomach for now and he very much enjoys a good apple.

When he's given his order after it's paid for, however, he's surprised to see it's actually a candy apple. Candied with what? He can't quite tell what the sticky and thick coating is. Or what exactly is sprinkled atop it. Nuts? No...those aren't nuts. Perhaps if he were able to read he would have realized it was anything but an ordinary apple.]

...Insects?

[He just wanted an apple.]

the network/safe house

[He finds himself back at the safe house for now. While he'll sleep here if he's nearby he won't make it a habit to linger for too long. Today, however, he's held up trying to figure out how this whole neural networking thing works. Or rather, how to get it to stop working.

He sees windows and text but he can't make them go away. He tries swatting at them but it doesn't quite work. And once he realizes the sheer amount of text involved he becomes even more annoyed. He curses under his breath.]

Is there anything worthwhile even being said?

[Because for the most part he can't read. And that might be an issue.]

Safehouse

[oldtonew]

[ Kettara hates this place in the way she hates most human things, with a low burning rage that simmers just under the surface. But there is little she can do but endure it, and act as honorably as she can in the meantime. Surely the ancestors are watching her even after all this. Surely they have not abandoned her as the elements seemingly had. Every time she tries to call the spirits to her there's nothing but an awful, grating silence, and a sharp pain in her chest. No matter how long she meditates or how carefully she words her prayers, only silence remains.

It's been three days. She hasn't slept much. There's nothing for it. She's had nightmares every time she closes her eyes and that won't do in this place, when she's surrounded on all sides by enemies.

They will turn on her. Humans always do.

But not everyone here is human.

She peers at him, ears pricked. Elf, she thinks, though he doesn't look like any that she's seen before. His eyes are wrong. Not nearly bright enough.

But. He's not human. He's like her, in this one small way.

She clicks her teeth. Jerks her chin to display her tusks when he looks at her. ]

Are you looking for something, in the messages?

[ She doesn't know technology at all, but she can try. She can be useful. ]

Kyna Medina | Original

[evocation]

exploring the changes

[Kyna doesn't really settle in. She kind of freaks. It's a lucky thing that the people in the safe house have probably seen this reaction a million times before, but their attempts to calm her down just piss her off more. The thing she notices instantly, beyond the usual panic that comes from being inter-dimensionally kidnapped, is her magic. She reaches for it and there's... nothing. No surge of energy, no adrenaline rush of power, not even the bone-deep ache she feels when she tries to use it and doesn't have enough juice to manage. It's just gone.

When someone tells her that it happens to everyone and that she'll get some new power like it's nothing, just the same old same old, for a moment she fantasizes about punching them. The news of the empathy bond just makes her laugh, incredulous and resigned. Of fucking course. This can't just suck, it has to be the worst possible situation.

So, Kyna is in a terrible mood for the first few days. She's either avoiding everyone else, and where she's not, she just... complains. It doesn't help, but she's so overwhelmed with the enormity of the situation that it feels like one of her only options.]

This whole thing is such fucking bullshit.

fight club

[This is probably a terrible place to be, but Kyna goes back and forth between lying to herself and saying it's just getting the lay of the land, and not trying to justify it at all. Her brother would have a better strategy in a situation like this, something that involved information gathering or networking. Kyna is not her brother, and cut off from her usual support system, totally powerless, she's desperate to be distracted.

Getting in and fighting isn't even an option. Kyna is tiny and untrained, so she just watches, drink in hand. When one of the fighters leaves the ring, she's a bit slow getting out of the way.]

Hey, you've got blood on your, uh. You know.

[She gestures vaguely to her face. Very helpful.]

enjoy the festivities

[Festivals are... cool. Sure. Whatever. Kyna is here to eat and drink until she pukes, basically. She's got some disgustingly fruity, boozy slushy thing in one hand, and one of the trucks is giving out samples, so of course she's all over that. It's reaching for a morsel off of the platter that her hand bumps into someone else's. It's the briefest touch, but enough for that implant thing to trigger, or do whatever it does. Kyna is oozing frustration and a low thrum of anxiety, and as soon as she feels her skin touch theirs, she yanks her hand back.]

Shit. Sorry.

festivities;

[witherings]

( this is not theaidai nor avenzaroth. they are not bound to the laws of men and land and breath. it is a new world, a new beginning. they are sundered from their other half, iolas of day and dawnlight, yet the constellations on their skin burn bright, illuminating the dark of their skin as they moves through the crowd. this is not their realm and their power is not their own, and yet.

and yet it is not avenzaroth. the cruelty and caprice of humans does not touch them.

they move effortless through the crowd. they stand taller than most here, but the downfall of this form is that they require sustenance. the festival draws them in — like and yet unlike the little celebrations their humans once held in theaidai. the food entices them, draws them in. they do not think to wait when hunger grips them, and their hand brushes the little human girl-child's.

izrani is an ageless thing. ill-accustomed to emotions that are not met and managed within the husk of a divine body. they do not feel with the frenetic fervor a human does, and that frustration and anxiety are a blow to them.

their emotions, in turn, are a morass to a mortal mind. they are heavy with an ageless perception of the universe — love sadness grief longing pain caprice cruelty on and on in an overwhelming cacophony that cuts off the moment they flinch and draw back as if burnt. )

I apologize, small one.

( their voice is twinned in echo. male and female. they are an aspect of duality, no matter the femininity to the form they've chosen. iolas would be the same were they here. )

Trevor Belmont | Castlevania (Netflix)

[doesitanyway]

> EXPLORE THE CHANGES

i. new abilities

[ Trevor is out for a walk late at night, because the idea of settling into a safehouse bed just isn't something he wants to do this particular evening. It's his own private rebellion, since he has no idea how to escape this godforsaken place. He'd think it a dream except his body has been experimented on, he feels the evidence of it, and his imagination (while vivid) could never have come up with anything like this. Technology beyond any of the science that Alucard's mother could have conceived, for certain. They say he's in the future, and he supposes he has no choice but to believe it.

Even in this time, there are constants. There are men and monsters, and all flavor of folks in between. Trevor trusts no one thus far, choosing to explore on his own for the most part. Tonight he's in a dark part of town when he hears a rustling down an alley -- could be a rat. Could be a creature. He has neither his whip nor his sword but that means very little, he can improvise somehow should it be a monster. He creeps into the mouth of the darkness and peers around, at the ready while his eyes adjust. If only he had a torch of some kind, he thinks, and just then--

--at first he thinks it's fireflies but there are too many, and suddenly clustered around him when there's no foliage for them to have emerged from disturbed. He swats at the tiny lights and realizes they're not bugs, no... and there's a glow coming from his chest as well, beneath his coat.

It's his new power, of which others were speaking, it must be. A scowl crosses his face, visible to anyone who might be in the alley. (Likely no one, but his voice is certainly audible to those passing by on the street.) ]

Oh come on, is this the best you could do?

[ The formidable last Belmont, surrounded by twinkly fairy lights. At least Sypha isn't here to see. Frankly, he preferred the darkness of the alley to this embarrassment of an ability. ]

Begone!

> ENJOY THE FESTIVITIES

ii. games

[ Throwing darts, though not something Trevor has done before, isn't all too different from throwing knives, it turns out. No spin, less of a motion, but still an assessment of the weight and balance of the thing and then careful aim. It's something Trevor is good at, and he could really use that affirmation of his strengths right now, so far from home and without his customary accoutrements. It feels wrong to not be wearing his family crest, to not have the Morningstar hanging from his hip -- and don't get him started on the fact that the name is used here, he's not getting into it. It's a bitter reminder of what's been taken from him. Even his appearance, they've changed, his shaggy hair shorter from being shaved at some point.

He keeps throwing darts and hitting the target exactly, to the point that he hits previous ones he's thrown directly in the bull's eye. When the attendant informs him that doesn't count because it didn't stick he leans in, gesturing pointedly with a dart. ]

You see here, that's consistency. To be valued even more than accuracy, dare I say -- see, it pushed the previous one deeper. It should count double.

[ He doesn't even know what the tickets are for, but wants to win as many of them as he can get. ]

> A LIFE OF CHAOS

iii. monsters

[ Unconventional threats are the story of Trevor's life, honestly. He's almost relieved when he runs into creatures that he recognizes as obviously monstrous, things that he knows he can kill. It's not that he's vicious, no, he just longs for the familiarity of it, the sense of doing something good and right. Protecting people, beating back creatures that would harm them. He rushes into the fray against a small pack of odd half-snake, half-dog creatures that are advancing on a stranger, scooping up a nightstick from a fallen city guardsman as he does. There are several bodies scattered around, all better armed than him -- he'll check on them once he's dispatched these demons, the first of which he bashes in its skull so that it turns to face him.

Trevor smirks. ]

Yes, that's right. Come at me, vile creature. [ The others turn to him as well, but he seems no less confident for being ganged up on. He calls out to the stranger, gesturing to one of the fallen guardsmen nearby. ] You there! Fetch me another, if you would!

[ Casual as if he was calling for another ale at the tavern. ]

Abilities

[requiemshark]

[ It's not the first time he's been stuck behind enemy lines and in unfamiliar territory, but it is the first time Sharkface has done it without any of his gear. (Prison didn't count. Prison was waiting game, interspersed with sudden, brutal violence. He's not in prison anymore.)

Doesn't matter much. He'll see it through. There was a time this sort of thing would have seemed routine, just another jump. Shit he'd been trained for, at any rate, and survived enough times in the war to get real fucking good at it. And he's gotten used to fighting alone, without backup. His people are dead and gone, and the kindest thing anyone ever called Charons hired guns was untrustworthy. Better to go about it alone.

So he's out in the middle of the night, getting a lay of the land. Figuring out the geography as best he can without GPS or even a decent map. Odds are good he's gonna need to make a break for it one of these days and disappear somewhere; better to have a sense of the territory before crashing blind into that particular clusterfuck.

It's something of a novelty to be able to climb up a fire escape and know the whole thing won't come crashing down under the weight of his armor. At this time of the night, with dark clothes and a hood up, he's good at not being seen. The same can't be said for the man down in the alley, who's currently surrounded by small, glowing sparks of light. Like fireflies, Sharkface thinks vaguely. He hasn't seen those in years, either.

He laughs, not caring that it blows his cover. ]

Well, fuck. That's new.

[ He's about ten feet up, leaning against the fire escape and peering down with a grin. ]

Hey, at least yours isn't completely useless. Cheer up.

Minako Arisato | Persona 3

[missleading]

> 01. FESTIVITIES

[ The concept of Resolution Day isn't foreign to her, but all of this still feels really over the top. Saving humanity doesn't need all this fanfare—but admittedly her experience is very skewed. That doesn't mean she's going to sit back and watch the festivities play out.

Although something about this feels... wrong? In a weird sort of way, one she can't quite put her finger on. Maybe it's the cultural disconnect, the fact that she feels so far removed from this time and the people living in it that leaves her with a fluttery uncertainty in her stomach. But it's fine, she can push through it. She can roll with the punches.

And that's exactly what she's doing, flitting between food trucks like a woman on a mission, picking a little bit of everything. Questionable "meat" skewers? Absolutely! Weird colored hot cakes? Done! But sharing is caring, which is why she wordlessly holds something from her literal pile of food out to the nearest person, a bright smile shining on her face.

Come on, try some! It could be the worst thing ever, or it could be the best—are you brave enough to find out which one it is? ]

> 02. HISTORY

[ And there it is, finally she understands why all of this has her on edge. Seeing the populous taking part in celebrating their ability to survive another day is one thing, as Minako forcefully pulls off the VR device after getting a first-hand glimpse into what happened, the teen looks visibly shaken despite her stony exterior. It's one thing to punish the perpetrators behind murders like that (she gets it, understands that red-hot anger); it's another to enact and then celebrate what is essentially genocide at its core. One of her teammates back home would be considered an AI in this world. They may not be human in the very literal sense, but if Aigis was any indication, they possessed more humanity than some of the triumphant winners.

This isn't what she gave everything in order to protect.

She turns her attention to the nearest person, gearing up to relive what very much was Hell on Earth; ]

You sure you want to do that? It's pretty intense.

[ AKA are you ready for trauma town, friend? You may want to reconsider. ]

> 03. NETWORK.

UN: minako.arisato
This network thing is cool, but has anyone else see a movie about this somewhere? Something about always being plugged in? And red and blue??
Trying to remember how that one went... ｢(´^｀)

> 0X. WILDCARD.

[ Got an idea for a prompt, or do you want to plot something out? Feel free to hmu on Discord @ Pearl#1577, or by messaging this journal! ]

02

[variate]

[ as much as Ren loves VR, the AI War wasn't exactly something that he was looking to experience in real-time unless it was for a very good reason. it served as a reminder of a cycle, as well as their unfortunate corporate sponsors that sunk money into keeping the lies alive.

he looks at her, then at the helmet in his hands. with an easy sort of resolve, he says: ]

Yeah, I know. But there's something I need to find out. [ doesn't he look absolutely thrilled? ] It's that bad, huh?

[ he needs to know what's on the other end of the propaganda. ]

Ginia AKA "Angela Roberts" | OC

[unlucky7]

I. Settling In
[Seated in the common room of the safehouse, Ginia appears to be the picture of settled calm. A few interfaces are open in front of her field of vision: a video of a variety show on YouTube, a fashion magazine's website open to an article on the season's latest color trends (Shine Bright in Jewel Tones!), the Wikipedia equivalent of a page covering the world's history, and a game of solitaire. Ginia calmly gestures at the pages to scroll through or to move card with the casual ease of someone familiar with the concept.

On the table next to her is a small pile of origami figures made out of food wrappers and plastic napkins. Cranes, fish, rabbits, a handful of stars. All well-done, if not occasionally lopsided from an uneven base square.

As for herself, Ginia is dressed in a grey fitted t-shirt, black cargo pants, and worn combat boots. Her dark brown curly hair is pulled back in a ponytail draped over her shoulder, fingers occasionally fiddling with the tips. Though her posture and expression is largely approachable, her eyes pay more attention to the room than the screens.

It's all bait. In a world full of unknowns, Ginia is curious who is pinged by what and how. Never too soon to gather information about the people around her.]

II. Food Trucks
[There's comfort and unease alike in crowds. Ginia loves being a no one, easily forgotten, just another face free to pass on by. If she doesn't take a flyer or a sample, it's nothing personal. She can observe freely and walk on through, hands in her pocket.

But it's still a crowd and there's always danger with so many people around. She keeps to the outskirts, goes with the flow of movement and plans out her turns in advance. If movement slows because of people gathering in front of a booth or food truck, she does her best to move around it. Always alert, always on the move.

But walking spends energy and Ginia needs food. She loves food. Food is great! That the protein of choice are insects doesn't even phase her. But crowds and interacting with people and trying to figure out what's good--ugh it's all exhausting.

Ginia gathers up some energy and courage and turns to the nearest person with something delicious looking or particularly fragrant. Waving her hand to get their attention, she puts on an apologetic smile as she signs in ASL.]

Excuse me, what's that you're eating?

III. Network
UN: angela.roberts
Super indulgent question, but what's a food everyone misses? The food here is pretty good, but I could go for ice cream. Rich and creamy chocolate ice cream with hot fudge and caramel sauce.

IV. Wildcard!
[Have at it!]

i

[ophiocordyceps]

⟪ she'd gone to the festival in the early morning, and now she's back. tired, perhaps suffering from some light sensory overlord that she's sure to associate with this new world until she adjusts to the sheer amount of neon lighting and noise.

it might not be immediately easy to tell what truly draws caroline in. it's the whole of it, the unbelievably indulgent, long-gone everyday from before the breakdown, where there were shows to watch, magazines to riffle through day in and out, on every subject from fashion to science to cat care. solitaire's, ironically, one of the few things the hordes of fungus-driven zombies hungries didn't take –– while most infrastructure to do with modern entertainment crumbled within the first couple of years, packs of cards remained available. even her computer at the base had the game installed, though she never played. too indulgent. there's a constant fear of overusing whatever resources you were granted.

she realises she's been watching for a bit too long. ⟫

They have a simulator for the war at the festival.

⟪ yeah, caroline, because it's not creepy to point out that you've been staring long enough to identify what page of world history the other woman's on. ⟫

han solo | a star wars story

[sublights]

 food trucks;

( not like it's the strangest berth he's been. not by a long shot. no andarian cutpurses to speak of, no one trying to wring his neck over a bounty gone sour thirty years ago? yeah, he'll take it.

not having chewie's the hardest thing.

(he's not thinking about leia. he's not thinking about ben, or rey, or the falcon. the fight. the fall. smugglers learn to compartmentalize. it's the job. you put everything away.)

— but he keeps turning to his right to make some offhanded comment and not having a seven and a half foot walking carpet that smells like a sindarakish bog? yeah. it's damn startling. they've been side-by-each more of han's life now than not.

so han's crankier than usual, which is why when your character grabs something to eat from the food truck he speaks up: )

It tastes like crap, you know.

( does it? maybe. )

  network;

username: han.solo

I'm looking for a Wookie. If you don't know what that means, go away.

  wildcard;

( ooc; hmu! han can be found wandering around, studiously avoiding any chance of empathy bonds, engaging in criminal underbelly shenanigans/etc! or ping me at vitarays and i'll write you a custom thing. han's a grumpy old bastard so take his antisocial bah humbuggery with a grain of salt, i am all about those tags! ♥ )

@kylo.ren

[warfares]

( oh.

oh. this is ... he has to triple check to be sure, mind flickering back to that conversation months ago, with takeshi kovacs. he hadn't been sure how he'd felt then ㅡ torn between guilt and a fierce fury ㅡ but there had been time to think since then, to reflect.

it takes a long time before he can answer. )

There are no Wookiees here.
And even if there were, I can't imagine them escaping notice for long.

juno steel – the penumbra podcast.

[monologue]

network.

USERNAME: juno.steel

looking for a tall noodle of a guy with glasses, probably agonizing real loud over the fact that he got a bad haircut. goes by the name dauphin or ransom. dont ask why hes weird and probably delirious and wont give you a straight answer. let me know if youve seen him.

also one of the showerheads in the safehouse is kinked up into a weird knot. anyone know who can fix that? yes it was my fault no i dont know how to straighten it out and i cant brute force it i just made it worse. thx.

bye.

fight club. (ringside chat)

If you're gonna punch a lady at least knock me out!

[ perched on the edge of a table, juno shouts and lifts a very raggedy looking middle finger—bent at an alarmingly wrong angle. definitely broken. how he's still got the ability to talk like that is beyond anyone's ability to know. he's new in town, after all. whoever is walking by him gives him a look that would probably wither most. instead, juno straightens, doesn't even put his hand down. maybe it's respect or maybe it's just the fact that they don't have time to deal with him, they're just stalking off back into the crowd.

glancing over at whoever walks by, juno then nods a little. ] Hey, you know where I can get a band-aid for this or something? And maybe a shot of whiskey. I need a goddamn drink.

a life of chaos. (monsters)

[ looking for a bit of shelter? yeah, juno too. which is why we are now in a somewhat decrepit closet just barely hanging on its metal hinges, some of the pins from the door hinge having already fallen to the ground. looks a little dire as whatever it is outside is beginning to try and bang a little more earnestly against the door, scratching and clawing trying to make its way inside. ]

Don't think they're coming in to borrow a cup of sugar, [ he mutters, reaching forward and slowly rising to his feet as there's another sharp slam against the metal door—the only thinking keeping him and whoever else is in here somewhat safe from the monster outside. ] Got any ideas?

[ the pins from said door begins to roll a bit strangely on the ground in an anxious circle. cool cool cool. ]

un: ransom.note

[money]

What kind of noodle?

Attolia Irene | The Queen's Thief series

[stolenpeace]

Network

[Bad username or site: attolia @ irene]
Good afternoon,

I would be most thankful to anyone who directs me to accurate and concise accounts of world history, as well as detailed maps. The simulations at the festival were illuminating, but not especially broad of scope. I would also appreciate personal accounts of local culture and traditions from those of you willing to divulge. There is much to learn and I do not intend to remain ignorant.

Sincerest regards,
Attolia

Games

[ The games themselves are of no interest to Attolia — she is too reserved to give in to such play, and the technology too foreign besides — but she does take the time to watch others. The most popular games seem to be small scale acts of war, and at least that much is familiar to a queen far from home. She carefully keeps away from crowds, abhorring the idea of an accidental touch even before it would transmit her carefully hidden emotions. The queen smiles demurely at anyone who makes eye contact as they pass, even though she deeply and sincerely hates everyone associated with this strange new world. ]

Food

[The food is unfamiliar, but tempting smells overcome her trepidation of a meal that has not been tested for poison. Besides, what use would be an assassin here, where she holds neither title nor power? She does not have currency to spare, but she is still beautiful with cropped hair and it is easy to flirt her way into sharing a meal. Attolia gives her smiles freely and laughs at all the right times until she gets what she wants, carefully not making any promises for more. When her prize is a kebab of crispy grasshoppers with an array of seasoning blends, she privately considers that her smiles should be worth more than this.

She turns to your character and smiles thinly. ]

Would you like it? I seem to have less of an appetite than I thought.

food

[kleptocratic]

[ Eugenides does not smile, but the tone of his voice is bright. Too bright. ]

You will have to pick them off for me.

[ And feed them to him, by hand. Of course, he could eat them directly off the stick, like a messy-if-mostly-normal person, but why would he do that? No, this is much more amusing.

Even if Eugenides agrees: they do not know the price of her smiles. ]

cullen rutherford || dragon age: inquisition

[breakthehabit]

i. networking

@ cullen
Hello ? ?


ii. history lesson

[ Bluntly put: he's overwhelmed.

Not only by the circumstances of his arrival—which were less than ideal, he's never been kidnapped before—but also by just everything. The technology here is beyond compare, beyond anything he's familiar with. Where the streets or buildings aren't gritty or dirty, they're flashy, with signs that blink or scroll and light up. He has no idea what to make of it all yet, feeling like he's been wandering around in some kind of dazed confusion.

All of this is compounded with the festival. Cullen attempts to stay unnoticed, blending in with the crowds and trying not to get hopelessly lost in the process.

Eventually, he ends up in front of some stalls that claim to have historical information, and he ends up engrossed in the videos, one by one. Unfortunately, he's still baffled by a simple concept: ]

That's AI? They're so...human.


iii. wildcard

[ Want to save him from a traumatic VR experience? Be my guest! Or maybe help him learn what texting is! Have a chat near the fighting clubs! Any questions, feel free to hmu on plurk vaulkner ]

@kate.bishop

[fledges]

Bonjour. Ciao. Howdy.

[What a smartass.]

Testing out the network?