FernStone saved the rp.
Drat. Foiled again.
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RP Concept: "Screw just the plans, we're stealing the Death Star and taking that baby for a joyride!"
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Writer of schlock dressed up in some decent clothes.
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Drat. Foiled again.
I got something for Billy pretty much ready. I'mma wait for @FernStone to post and include it with my responses.
Rita’s hand clutched against her head as the screams invaded her mind. Was Tuyen responsible for them, or was it her Abstraction acting on its own? Either way, the look Rita gave the other girl was one of bewilderment. She tucked her arm back inside of the blanket and wrapped her hands around her as Tuyen guessed Rita’s abstraction. Her lips drew tight, but already she could feel the words crawling up her throat like worms after a spring shower. She bit her tongue and tried to swallow them, but Tuyen’s slight smile disarmed her.
“I...I don’t know...oh…” The words came out forced through gritted teeth. Rita was afraid of what would happen if another person knew about her abstraction. She had only told Martin about it. However, Tuyen didn’t seem disturbed by Rita’s ability, and she had seemed tight with Martin. Rita shook away her doubt. Perhaps it would be nice to have a confidant.
“Yeah. It doesn’t really work when the target knows about it, though, so...uh, and I wasn’t trying to pry or anything. It just sort of happens whenever I ask a question. Sometimes, sometimes it doesn’t,” said Rita. She stumbled over her words to get as many of them out there as possible. Her eyes looked around the room for the exit, and so that she wouldn’t be meeting Tuyen’s eyes. Those screams had been horrifying. “But you’re right. We should find a doctor or something and figure out what’s happened.”
Her eyes snapped back to Tuyen. Underneath her sheet the sigil on her arm glowed and then fizzled out like a sparkler. “The God-Child woke you up too, right?” Her voice was quiet. “Maybe answers should wait. We better get out of here before anything comes.”
Penny felt a mix of relief when her shot striked true and disgust when she realized she had blasted the man in the eye. Gross! She watched, her jaw agape, as the orange light began to repair the damage she had done. She rubbed her shoulder and glanced over towards Justin as he helped out the thrown woman. It was good to see him. She needed to go a bit harder on this abomination, and Justin had one of the stronger abstractions. Penny turned her head back to the corrupted man and flipped her hair behind her shoulder, an arsenal of pens in her left hand as she flipped one with her right.
“About time you showed up. It felt weird doing this alone. You ever notice how we’re always the ones stuck dealing with assholes like this?” she shouted over to Justin; she could hardly make out what the woman was saying. “Is she o—”
And then Justin was tossed across the room like a doll.
Penny launched a pen at the woman before Caelea arrived and quite literally flipped into action, also going towards Justin’s aid. It was a sight to see through the eyes of her abstraction, but there was another threat. Penny turned her attention back to the man just in time to catch him upon her as a bloodcurdling scream nearly shattered her ear drums. The pens dropped from her hands and she fell backwards. The pipe missed where her head was but kept following through to where she had fallen. It would certainly be a bone-crushing strike if it hit her.
So maybe the case would be the same if it hit him. The sigil below her neck glowed as she threw up her hand, blasting at the man and the pipe a fraction of a second before it hit her. At the very least she should be able to shove him back enough to make the blow miss, but Penny truly intended for her power to drill the pipe back through her assaulter.
@FernStoneTotally forget Tuyen's shadow protects her from that sorta stuff, which makes this a happy accident
Sorry there wasn't more! Gonna be slammed until the New Year and didn't want to keep y'all hanging.
“I’m sorry!”
The instant apology came naturally as Tuyen shouted at Rita to shut up. She withdrew her hand from the girl’s shoulder and took a tentative step back, more concern than anything in her wide eyes. She gave a slight, understanding smile as Tuyen backpedaled, although it creased closed as the other girl mentioned her Abstraction being sentient. Before she could even think, as question had formed on Rita’s lips, and the sigil on her still outstretched arm glowed for Tuyen to see as Rita asked, “What do you mean your power is sentient?
Penny was on the move towards the scream. The God Kid’s voice had startled her awake, and she had wasted little time in bed. She had her own room and had torn through the cabinets look for DIY projectiles that she had stuffed in a pillow case; her own Santa’s sack of slings. Anger fueled her as she darted through the halls of the eerie hospital, the scream still ringing in her ears. The Glutton had killed Claire and now it was back to finish the job; she would do whatever she could to be a thorn in its side until the day she died.
Worry also seeped in to her anger, concerned that perhaps the scream belonged to one of her peers. In fact, she worried most that perhaps the Glutton had gotten to Britney. The bitch was her second most hated thing in the universe, but she was the only one with any answers. If she died then so did any real chance Penny and the others had to stand against the Glutton.
Her slippered feet slapped against the floor and made it awkward to run as she past by darkened room after darkened room. Penny turned a corner and noticed the light from the lobby shining through the windows on a set of doors like a beacon to guide her to the source of the scream. She slammed through the doors and practically slid into the lobby, the bag of ballistics unslung from her shoulder as she grabbed an assortment of pens and tongue depressors. She had expected to see the Glutton in all of it’s bizarre, undefinable horror; instead, she found herself faced against a man that gave her vibes of Scott Reese with his blood-soaked body and makeshift club. He had a woman raised up in his arms as they choked her.
“Hey asshole, You got three seconds to drop her before I turn you into a pin cushion!” shouted Penny. The world buzzed to life as she spotted his head start to turn towards her before it actually did, the orange glow of his eyes trailing behind as it caught up. The color was an all too familiar one; she had yet to notice that the victim was also the same. “Oh, fuck off,” muttered Penny as she unleashed a salvo of makeshift missiles at the man, with the intention to just wound him enough to make him drop the lady.
I spent today putting together a desk so I could better write.
I now have a desk.
I did not have time to write.
I am an asshole.
I now have a desk.
I did not have time to write.
I am an asshole.
Aw shit!
Gonna be doing family things until later tomorrow, so the rest of my bastards won't be up until...maybe Wednesday?
Gonna be doing family things until later tomorrow, so the rest of my bastards won't be up until...maybe Wednesday?
Rita bolted upright as she gasped for air; her hand clutched against her chest while her heart threatened to hammer right through her ribcage. Sweat was formed on her brow, and her eyes darted around in a panic as a rapid beeping rang in her ears. Her breathing became more regular as she realized that she was no longer outside of the old, decrepit school but inside a hospital ward. The beeping came from the heart monitor standing next to her bed, and it too slowed with her realization. She scooted her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them: had it all been a dream? A hallucination? She must’ve gotten in a accident while riding her bike. There had been no friendship with Martin, no tension with Claire, absolutely zero mass murders, and an utter impossibility that…
Her eyes lingered on the sigil that ran from her fingers like the severed strings of a marionette. A choked sob escaped from her throat. It had all been real. The Abstractions, the Watchers, the Glutton, even the dreams she had when she was out were just visions of the past, as vivid as they would be if she had been there herself and written them down in her diary. She sat there for what must’ve been several minutes and silently cried as she tried and figured out why she had dreamed of her father before the vision of the Watchers.
She had been transported back to Corpus Christi, Texas. More accurately, she had been transported back in time to the last time she was in that garbage town that smelled like a dirty pier and cowboy boots that had trudged through horseshit. She was inside of a chain family restaurant, in a booth, surrounded by tchotchkes and flair, across from her father. Much like the rest of the folks in that town, her father was dressed in plaid tucked into a pair of levi’s over some flashy boots so that he looked like a real cowboy despite being a Yank. Just another convenient little lie—it was better to pretend that he was a true good ol’ boy than not for the sake of his work—from a man who was about to reveal to his daughter that his, and therefore her, entire life was a fabrication. It didn’t hurt so much that she was told that she wasn’t wanted. She knew that. She just wished he hadn’t pretended for so long that she was.
Rita, now that her mind rejoined her body, wiped away the tears. There was plenty of time in the world to be miserable, but first she had to figure out what was going on. For starters, how had she gone from some certain death situation to a hospital bed? She buzzed for the nurse once, twice, three times, and then waited, and waited, and waited. It became clear to her that a nurse was not coming, and perhaps that voice she had heard in her sleep hadn’t been part of the dream but an actual warning, and perhaps that meant it was time to get moving.
Rita closed her eyes as she removed the IV, and then slid over to the side of the bed. She winced as her bare feet touched the cold floor and her knees wobbled but held as she stood up, her hand gripped white against the bed rail for support. For someone who did not like to even show knee, it was almost a subconscious decision to take the sheet from the bed and drape it over her gown for some decency. Now as ready as she could possibly be, the girl went over to the curtain and peeked through it. The coast seemed clear enough: she stepped out of the threshold and into the ward.
Hospitals always gave her the creeps, and the dim lighting and, excluding the occasional beep of a machine, silent ward did nothing to change her opinion. She tiptoed past several closed-off beds before a scream shot through the air and robbed her of her ability to walk as her heart went into overdrive. Immediately after, she her something rip against the curtains before she saw Tuyen emerge and then collapse against a wall. Rita did not hurry over to the girl right away. After all, while they had been cordial to each other they were not really close; just two unlucky quiet girls who happened to be in the same shitty situation. It wasn’t until Rita recognized the symptoms of a panic attack—an experience she was all too familiar with—that she approached the girl.
“Tuyen, it’s Rita,” she said, her voice barely above a squeak as she walked around Tuyen so that she could see her. She reached out to put a hand on Tuyen’s shoulder. “It’s...it’s going to be okay.” Her voice shook; Rita obviously didn’t believe that. “I’m here for you. Try and steady your breathing, okay? I know it’s difficult, but you can do it.”
I have a post for Rita ready, but I refuse to post it until I have a signed contract saying that it will not be used to fuel any ascension, be it @Ruler Inc or another, and not because I worked some really weird hours lately and are so tired that I am now uncertain if what I wrote is actually English or even possible to follow, much like this sentence.
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