@TheWizardLizard that sounds like a cool idea!
c3p-0h Member
unending foolery
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i like to rp. that's really all there is to say.
Most Recent Posts
I mean to be fair my dad is 34 years older than me and I'm probably more mature than he is. Age isn't always indicative of how grown up you are.
as co-gm i can officially confirm what rai's saying. we're blocking out the sun. apocalypse now, bitches.
jk
jk
i'll get a sable post up tomorrow. right now though, it's sleep time.
Aya
Five times, Aya thought to herself as the knight addressed her once again. Shifting uncomfortably, she looked down as he marveled at her power. Sure it was pretty to look at, but what good was it really? Besides, it'd never been something she'd been particularly proud of anyway. She forced herself to breathe as she felt his hand on hers. All she had to do was use her power again, but the thought made her hesitate – the image of her father's face appeared in her mind. His sad eyes as he realized what his daughter was, how he tried to smile through the pain for her, as though making some false reassurance…
Aya cut herself off by snapping her and the man back into their bodies. Sensation rushed back into the world, the LA heat, the mass or colors, the sounds of the fight… The sharp metal edges of the knight's armor were once again digging into her skin. There was another man standing behind him, with a hand on the knight's shoulder. Though his voice had been slightly muffled from beyond the veil, it was now clear as day in Aya's still ringing ears. She hurried to climb down from her 'savior's' arms, swaying a bit as her shaky legs struggled to support her, but quickly finding her balance.
"Um," she started, "Right, well… thank you." Aya shifted away from him, feeling vulnerable with this man who now knew her secret. She glanced between the two strangers, then back down the block. The commotion was too far away for Aya to make out clearly, but it seemed like fighting was still going on. Something pulled in her to go and… do something. Help. But what was she supposed to do? How could she be expected to keep up with people like Edge, or people carrying guns? Besides, this wasn't her fight. But even as she told herself that, she chewed her lip in uncertainty. Wasn't this her fight? She was a Meta after all, no matter how much she hid it.
But no. Aya had no place in fights or politics or any of that. The image of Edge emerging from the building, blood and bodies clearly visible behind him, flashed through her mind and she shuddered. Giving her head a small shake, she turned her attention back to the knight.
"I'll just, uh, go then. If you need to… help over there or something, you can go. I'm fine. Thanks. Again." Her cheeks began to color as her stammering went on, and she quickly turned on her heel. She was ready to leave the knight and the bodies behind, and hide in the relative safety of her apartment. Of her normal life. Though it seemed she'd be taking the path through the ghetto home today.
The rain, the buzzing electricity in the lights, the man's voice and frantic pacing… The longer Carmo stared at the door – which should've been in splinters because she'd heard it damnit, she'd heard it crack and shatter and imagined it was bone instead of wood – the more all the sounds meshed together into white noise in her mind. It started off low and hushed but grew and grew until it was deafening. She was blind and dead to the world around her, trapped in the whirlpool of her own thoughts. She'd heard it. She'd heard it and heard every moment of her life wash through her. But she hadn't seen it. Had it even been real? It was certainly real enough to the man. Carmo had forgotten his name already, but not the way his sticky red life seeped through his ruined clothes.
He was saying something to her, but Carmo couldn't hear him. She couldn't understand.
So instead she just squeezed her eyes shut and turned on her heel. After a deep, shuddering breath, she walked back up the stairs and found the entrance to her apartment. The sound of the door slamming shut behind her was the final note anyone would hear from her for quite some time.
—
1:45 am
Hiko was far too big and far too tired for these chairs. Wicker and wood, the quaint bottom-sized furnishings lined the side of the stairway, a polite distance from the rest of the room. The waiting room chairs were too small to recline in, so Hiko sat hunched forward, thick elbows seated in his lap, looking out at the rain. His coat lay discarded on a second chair, obscuring it entirely in black and grey angles of modern art. A sleeveless polyester blend revealed his muscular arms -- and he'd be lying if he said the bandages didn't make it somehow more stylish.
He hadn't meant to stick around. Ms. Koizumi had tied up all the loose ends, for better or... For the better. If he left now, her nightmare could end. And his... He could figure it out.
No matter how much he said it, the front door failed to look any less like a meat grinder, all potential and sharp glass and cheap, breakable, splintering wood. And beyond that... It was a lot harder to be a hotshot all alone in the waiting room at a quarter to 2, one shoulder lacerated to the muscle. Hiko looked down at his hands.
World Without Words trumpeted from his phone's dated speaker, grainier than he'd expected. All things considered, he was glad he'd forgotten his $300 headphones; his phone's cosmetic case -- all retro pop-art-deco and color abstractions -- lent some reverberating body to the tinny instruments. It was a bug, not a feature.
He had told himself a few times now that he was staying for her. Whatever the hell had happened earlier, the claw was still out there. She was the only one it hadn't ignored. If it had its sights on her, he had to stay and help her fight it. If it had its sights on her, that was his fault -- and he had to take responsibility.
That's what he told himself. But there he sat, still terrified by a door, wondering if this team captain schtick was just an excuse to stay warm.
—
Carmo didn't sleep that night. She tried to wash away the terror, but it stained her skin like a tattoo. She tried to find safety under her covers, but every breath she took moved the fabric, the friction creating a noise that was so similar to that awful scratching. When she did manage some sleep, it was of a tall bleeding stranger, and shattered wood – shattered bone.
While in the darkness her apartment was a haven, in the morning it was nothing but a reminder that curled her stomach. As the morning light stretched across the sky, the events of just hours ago seemed more and more like a passing dream. But Carmo still couldn't forget it completely. As soon as the first rosy rays of dawn leaked through her windows, Carmo was out the building's (still undamaged) door. It was the weekend, so she wasn't expected to report into the office that morning. So instead she took her laptop and charger to the nearest coffee shop, trying vainly to return to her article.
He was saying something to her, but Carmo couldn't hear him. She couldn't understand.
So instead she just squeezed her eyes shut and turned on her heel. After a deep, shuddering breath, she walked back up the stairs and found the entrance to her apartment. The sound of the door slamming shut behind her was the final note anyone would hear from her for quite some time.
—
1:45 am
Hiko was far too big and far too tired for these chairs. Wicker and wood, the quaint bottom-sized furnishings lined the side of the stairway, a polite distance from the rest of the room. The waiting room chairs were too small to recline in, so Hiko sat hunched forward, thick elbows seated in his lap, looking out at the rain. His coat lay discarded on a second chair, obscuring it entirely in black and grey angles of modern art. A sleeveless polyester blend revealed his muscular arms -- and he'd be lying if he said the bandages didn't make it somehow more stylish.
He hadn't meant to stick around. Ms. Koizumi had tied up all the loose ends, for better or... For the better. If he left now, her nightmare could end. And his... He could figure it out.
No matter how much he said it, the front door failed to look any less like a meat grinder, all potential and sharp glass and cheap, breakable, splintering wood. And beyond that... It was a lot harder to be a hotshot all alone in the waiting room at a quarter to 2, one shoulder lacerated to the muscle. Hiko looked down at his hands.
World Without Words trumpeted from his phone's dated speaker, grainier than he'd expected. All things considered, he was glad he'd forgotten his $300 headphones; his phone's cosmetic case -- all retro pop-art-deco and color abstractions -- lent some reverberating body to the tinny instruments. It was a bug, not a feature.
He had told himself a few times now that he was staying for her. Whatever the hell had happened earlier, the claw was still out there. She was the only one it hadn't ignored. If it had its sights on her, he had to stay and help her fight it. If it had its sights on her, that was his fault -- and he had to take responsibility.
That's what he told himself. But there he sat, still terrified by a door, wondering if this team captain schtick was just an excuse to stay warm.
—
Carmo didn't sleep that night. She tried to wash away the terror, but it stained her skin like a tattoo. She tried to find safety under her covers, but every breath she took moved the fabric, the friction creating a noise that was so similar to that awful scratching. When she did manage some sleep, it was of a tall bleeding stranger, and shattered wood – shattered bone.
While in the darkness her apartment was a haven, in the morning it was nothing but a reminder that curled her stomach. As the morning light stretched across the sky, the events of just hours ago seemed more and more like a passing dream. But Carmo still couldn't forget it completely. As soon as the first rosy rays of dawn leaked through her windows, Carmo was out the building's (still undamaged) door. It was the weekend, so she wasn't expected to report into the office that morning. So instead she took her laptop and charger to the nearest coffee shop, trying vainly to return to her article.
hey guys, i'm really sorry… i've been trying not to post this and find some way around it, but i'm afraid i'm gonna have to pull out of this rp. my work load's been increased recently, and i've been asked to help co-gm this other rp that i really want to do a good job with, but i've even barely had time to do that. i'm afraid i just don't have the time to do anything else on top of that. i'm so sorry to my group, but i'm sure you guys can continue without me. best of luck, everyone!
<Snipped quote by Archmage MC>
I could probably come up with a char off the top of my head,how about a hydrokinetic:someone with the power of hydrokinesis
A hydrokinetic character was actually just submitted.
@c3p-0h How does your astral ability work? Are you and wizard just standing there?
Yeah so our bodies are frozen and unresponsive, and you shouldn't be able to see our spirits
Aya
Aya couldn't help but step back again when the stranger (knight? He'd called her 'my lady' four times in the last two minutes, and was wearing a full suit of armor in Los Angeles. He seemed pretty serious about the knight thing.) held up his ands. It was no doubt meant to be a calming gesture, but fear still pumped through her veins like blood. She flinched when he said she was the cause of this. There went her anonymity. But this man seemed… nice? At least, he didn't seem as psychopathic or murderous as Edge, though that wasn't saying much. She'd reacted out of pure fear, but now that she had this moment to take everything in, he seemed ok. Her heart still pounded in her throat, and her ears rang with the sound of gunfire… but sense slowly leaked back to her. Her gaze darted around as he patiently asked his very reasonable questions. Still not looking at him, she finally opened her mouth to answer.
"I'm sorry," she blurted out in a rush. Her eyes flicked up to him, gauging his response before quickly darting away again. "I–… I didn't mean to…" She ran a hand through her hair and risked looking up at him again. Goodness, he was tall. "The… constellation you're standing in. That's us – our bodies, I mean. We're still on the street." She looked away to see the shimmering outlines of buildings around them. "That's the salon," she said, gesturing to a shorter cluster of stars, tinted pink, "and that bookstore that only stocks volumes in Russian," she said, pointing at another.
Aya pulled her arms around herself, searching for anything to focus on aside from the man she'd revealed herself to. She could still hear the muffled sounds of chaos even from beyond the veil. The situation at the Center for Humans no doubt devolving even more. Whoever this knight was, he was fast and in the few moments he'd had before she'd freaked out on him, he'd carried her almost an entire block away by now. But it likely wouldn't be far enough to escape whatever was going on. Their bodies would be sitting ducks, his shining armor like a beacon. She knew they had to go back. But that meant touching this man and activating her power again.
She chewed her lip a moment before drawing out her hand, holding it out. "I can put us back," she said, looking down again. But she made no move to close the distance between them.
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