Atrophy

Carvings of the Galaxy

*mind explodes*

Carvings of the Galaxy

You know what, that works for me.

Beyond the Storms

Constance had started a trend, it seemed, as the others formed a line behind her as if they were about to dance a samba. It only made sense to her that they would follow her lead; it was the natural way of things. She could hear the others shouting her name (the sweetest sound known to man), and surely the words were of awe and admiration (though she didn’t really catch them). Finally, the universe had righted itself after this hectic day, it seemed. They would stumble through the woods, come across that it was just some wild pig or something, and have a laugh about their worries while roasting their conquest. Then they would drink some more. Damn. Should’ve brought a glass with me, she thought. Who knew how long they would be playing adventurers in the woods, after all? Too long for some, or at least for Ed, who was threatening to murder her ghost.

“Now Eddy, there’s no reason to be such a sour puss. What could possibly go wr—” She lifted her hand up to her mouth as Ed and the Earth became fast friends. As she heard him cursing, however, her hands dropped to her waist and her look of surprise and concern transformed into a frown. She followed him through the brush practically side-by-side with Luna, the nurse racing to make sure that he was all right while she began to deal out the venom. “Now look, you don’t have to go throwing yourself around to make your point. Nobody’s forcing you to come along, and nobody will call you a coward if you decide to go cower by the campfire clutching to ol’ Captain Conway for comfort.” Clearly, she had forgotten about earlier. She raised her finger up to deliver her final coup de grace, rather oblivious to the sight that Ed was taking in. “And—”

Someone rudely interrupted her. She felt her jaw drop, her head snapping to and fro as she tried to zero in on the kind of jerk that would just begin talking and forget to shut up to take a breath of air. She found people like that to be absolutely, positively, and undoubtedly dreadful. Finally, she caught sight of the man in the top hat and her vision practically went red. What kind of schlub wore a top hat these days? It reminded of her of the various hustlers and scoundrels she used to deal with back in the Bottoms, and how they tried to appear rich and powerful by wearing last decade’s fashion. What posers. The very idea of someone like them having snuck his way (because certainly he wasn’t invited) onto the boat filled her with disgust.

And did he just say that he was a magician for their entertainment? She folded her arms over her chest, unimpressed. Magicians were just pickpockets and thieves who “legitimized” their business by targeting the dull minded everyman on the street or the easily fooled children at some crummy birthday party. Their tricks had been her tricks back in the day, only she had proven to be able to utilize them in ways that afforded her more than a basement apartment with nothing but a cot and a table. Constance readied herself to give the man a piece of her mind: she sucked in air, puffed up her chest, and clenched her fist. As she was about to open up on him, however, she saw a shadow emerge from behind the magician Maxwell and drag him away as he narrated the assault. For a second, she was utterly confused; then, she burst into applause.

“That was absolutely fantastic! What a grand trick. For a moment, I thought he was truly in peril,” she said with a squeal of delight, looking around at the others for approval. Maybe it was the dark or maybe it was the drink, but from the look on their faces it appeared as if they did not find his trick as amusing as she had. She stopped clapping, a flustered look briefly flashing upon her face. Krauss had simply just walked away; Luna, it seemed, was moving forward to investigate how the illusion had work. She stumbled after Luna; her curiosity had been piqued, too, and she refused to deal with any of that ‘a magician never realizes his trick’ nonsense.

“Wait for me, sweetpea!” she barked as she caught up to Luna outside of the mouth of the dark cave, her hands patting at her jacket in search of a lighter. She pulled out one, small and silver with her initials engraved into one side and a flowery design carved into the other, and gave it a flick. Thankfully, it had not been waterlogged, and produced a small flame that barely cast an aura of light beyond her outstretched hand. She could see a faint shimmer of the moist cavern walls that were just beside her, but deeper into the cave was only darkness. Notably absent was any sort of devices or ropes that the man could have used to pull himself away for his trick. Constance found herself pressed up against Luna, her hand gripping her shoulder, as they slowly pressed forward.

“Come on out, darling, we all know that was just for show,” she said into the darkness. She was answered only by the sound of her breathing. A shiver went down her spine; she gripped onto Luna tighter still. “Seriously, it was fun at first but this bit has gone on a little too long. You can go ahead a drop the charade.” Nothing still. She muttered a curse underneath her breath, wishing suddenly that she had decided to follow Krauss back to the safety of the fire.

Beyond the Storms

Okay, apologies for the lack of OOC chatter. I'm gonna get my read on in the IC and then should have a post up in a day or two, depending on how irresponsible I end up being.

Carvings of the Galaxy

Sorry for the radio silence, ya'll. I should be able to get a solo post up by Thursday at the latest. Of course, if anybody wants to do a collab then feel free to give me a shout.

Beyond the Storms

Such a bummer our new guy already got KIA; whelp, best we all start hoofing it back to the boat and fast before it eats the rest of us.

_{I mean, Operation: Rescue Magician is a go.}

Carvings of the Galaxy

Owen and Tahlia point at each other, neither wanting to take responsibility.

@beyond visionsEcho's planted some ideas in Owen's head, but he's still a bit reticent about there even being a need for a leader. Now, if nobody were to speak up then he would probably, begrudgingly, act as their representative, but he'd quickly back down if Tahlia, or anyone else, said something.

Actually, I kind of like the idea of Owen and Tahlia speaking up at the same time and then going from there. @TheMadAsshatterWanna do a collab for their response to Pseudo?

Beyond the Storms

I've seen enough horror movies to know that absolutely nothing will go wrong.

Beyond the Storms

The Camspite

It had been like a punch to the gut when Krauss had decided to follow protocol and returned the plane to the hangar instead of flying the bird out to the island. If Constance had properly been miked then perhaps her few choice words would’ve been able to convince the pilot to screw regulations in favor of the spirit of adventure, but instead she had been just shouting into the howl of the wind and the roar of the engine until her voice was hoarse. What followed after they had returned was hours of Constance being moody followed by a hectic period of time where she tried to put herself together once the call was made that they were finally going to disembark for the new land. A fresh outfit pulled from the mess that was her cabin, a clean application of makeup, a nice hat decorated with a blue ribbon, and a highball in hand made her appear as if she had been completely unfazed by the otherwise full and rather dangerous day while she waited impatiently for her turn to take one of the uncomfortably tiny boats to shore. She was so eager that, come her turn, she even helped in rowing, despite the laborious work being unfit for someone of her standings.

Still, there was a small sense of disappointment as she landed upon the island. For starters, she wasn’t the first, meaning that it would be crude to try to even suggest naming the island Connie’s Landing. She blamed Krauss and his rules for that. However, what really was a letdown was how familiar the island looked—tan sand, green leaves, and gray stones. She had been visualizing something a little more foreign and exotic than what she saw outside of her vacation house in Lake Marum, like man-eating plants or painted savages like something found in a cheap dimestore novel. At the very least the sailors were thoughtful enough to bring along booze. It was bottom-shelf garbage, to be sure, but it was better than drinking her own supply dry while they waited for nightfall and the subsequent morning so that they could, hopefully, do some damn exploring.

However, in the time that she had been waiting for the men to set up their camp, Constance had managed to imbibe in a bit more than her fair share of the rum. If she was drinking in a standard social situation her beverage was often touched with only a splash of alcohol, not even enough to make a child buzzed, as if she believed that having a drink in hand made her appear sophisticated like the people always shown in the adverts. Back in her heavier business days she hadn’t drank at all, preferring to pretend that her glass of soda water was a vodka tonic.

The close call with death and the disappointment of the realities tied to their expedition had tripped something inside of her, however, and she had been more liberal than she had originally intended to be when she had taken the first mug offered to her. At this point she could feel in her body that she was at the threshold of sloppiness and should probably stop, but somebody had just handed her another and it would be rude to turn it down. Fortunately for her hangover tomorrow, Constance also had the habit of being a slow drinker, largely because it prevented her from talking. And, after a few drinks, she was ready to talk, and she was talking loud. As with anytime someone drinks, the conversation turned to a story about a time that she had been drinking.

She believed it to be an enthralling story set during a cool fall night during one of her many parties. The tale required a bit of a backstory to set up the scenario, and had a rather risque nature to it all that was unsuitable to share around respectable individuals but perfect for a group of drunken sailors. Of course, she changed the names of the people involved because, as she described them, they were very powerful, public figures and if it ever got out that it was them then terrible, horrible things would happen to their careers, and she didn’t want to be responsible for ruining that, although then she would go into great detail to describe them so aptly that only a person who had lived under a rock for the past year would not know who it was, exactly, that she had been talking about. The only fault to the story, she admitted, was that it did take quite a good amount of time to tell, but the punchline was so incredible that it made the investment worth it.

Assuming, of course, she didn’t giggle the whole way through, which, after a handful of drinks, was a pretty tall order.

“—and so, finally, after all of that nonsense, I finally—” She tittered, waving her hand. “—break the lock on my bedroom door and—” She clasped her hand over her mouth, another chuckle escaping. “—and who do I see, dressed as a—” Her hand was clutching her stomach as she gracefully snorted. “—who do I see dressed a woman but—” Constance looked as if she was almost in pain from trying not to laugh. “—but that certain businessman himself. And I say to him, what I says is—” Tears were streaming down her face, at this point. “—is ‘Oi, why you dressed up like a fancy lady?’, and you can see on his face that he’s caught, but then, amazingly, very calmly, he looks at me, and he, shit, and he, he says—”

“—Did any of you hear that?”

“Eddy, please, I don’t interrupt you when you speak. I thought reporters were supposed to be good listeners, at least the good ones are, aren’t they?,” said Constance, loudly, smacking her hands on her knees. “Now the pushy one’s, they’ll just go on forever trying to cut you off to make you look like an ass. Seriously, so rude.” A look of concentration followed quickly by one of lost crossed her face, and she frowned and threw her head forward with a sigh. “Great, now I forgot what I was saying.”

There was another loud snap. Constance apparently heard the second one, because instantly she was on her feet, her hand grasping at her chest as she looked wild-eyed into the woods. “Holy-shit-did-anyone-hear-that-there’s-something-there-what-the-hell-is-out-there?” she spat out as if it were a single word, jumping with a mix of freight and excitement, before quickly shushing the others as she tried to listen for another snap. After a second where none came, she took a cautious step towards the woods, emboldened by the booze, and whispered, “I’m going to check it out.”

After one more step she turned back to the group and put her hand on her hips, clearly offended “Don’t everybody trip over each other lining up to come with me," she said with a whine in her voice, turning her back to the woods. "Come on, it’s probably nothing.”

Beyond the Storms

I'mma be rather busy this weekend, so don't wait up for me. Should be able to post Monday or Tuesday.