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Wingless: From the Cracked-Open Sky

That fridge is not going to last long.

Wingless: From the Cracked-Open Sky

Isis Juneau awoke to cool air and the blaring sound of a wind-up alarm clock. Light streamed through the venetian blinds of the room’s two closed windows as the clock made its ringing routine. The young Juneau rubbed her face groggily, acknowledging the six A.M. alarm with a yawn and a stretch before climbing out of bed in one articulate movement.

The Juneau residence was a modest, one bedroom apartment on the third floor of a ‘downtown’ apartment building, if one could call it that. It had a small kitchen, bathroom, and a living room. In the interest of saving money, Isis roomed with another girl, a Fae one year her elder. The small apartment was relatively well kept, despite her roommate’s tendency to leave fast food containers and clothes all around the place, mostly in part to Isis’ due diligence in cleaning and maintaining their quarters. Everything in the flat was meticulously arranged in a manner that followed good Feng shui. Even the electric fans installed that kept them in relative comfort that morning were located in auspicious-looking positions.

The alarm was silenced by a gentle tap, ringing once more before falling quiet. Rummaging through her tidy closet, she threw on a white sailor-style dress over her underwear. She hesitated a moment before deciding to forgo the usual tights; Isis reasoned the day would likely be too hot for that. Turning around, she clicked her tongue irritably as she tripped on a loose shirt; her roommate had probably come home late again and thrown all her clothes everywhere. The older Fae turned in her bed, folding her pillow around her head. Sighing, Isis weaved around the clothes her roommate left strewn about on the roommate’s side of their bedroom. Throwing an errant soda can into the nearby waste basket, she made her way to the kitchen to make her early-morning breakfast of eggs, orange juice, and buttered toast.

Being the good, studious and punctual Fae, unlike her roommate, Isis downed the entirety of her breakfast, toast included before heading out of the house juggling a large metal canteen of water. It was clear she would need a lot of water today to do her best. Reaching a crowded bike rack at the edge of the property, she proceeded to untie her aluminum framed bicycle from the tangled mess of bikes. Carefully unhooking the bike from a neighbor’s, taking care not to scratch its light-blue paint, Isis placed the water canteen into the bike’s bottle holder. Using the palm of her hand as a temporary visor from the sun, she mounted the bike and started coasting down the small hill, letting the wind hit her face as she gained speed.

It took about twenty minutes for Isis to head across town, a few minutes more than usual, for she had intentionally slowed down to conserve energy. Arriving in front of the Daedalus headquarters, she dismounted the bike and chained it up to the nearest empty pole. The front lobby of the headquarters was still mostly empty despite it being a work day, likely on account of the sweltering weather. Blowing out some air with her mouth to cool herself down, she grabbed her water canteen and headed into the building.

Inside the sparsely populated building was the commander and Clark, but Isis was surprised to see Southey, barely clothed and passed out, and the slacker Overture, having arrived surprisingly early, doing her best to look ‘cool.’ Raising her eyebrows in apprehension, she said hello to them before greeting her superior.

“Good morning, commander Kairn.”

Wingless: From the Cracked-Open Sky

Quote:
“I don’t deal in incompetence.”

Name:
Isis Juneau

Age:
14

Gender:
Female

Personality:
Isis is a person described as having an abrasive personality. A no-nonsense type of person, she is the pro-active, stoic individual that is there for the duty and nothing else. She takes herself quite seriously for a person of her age, and holds herself to a high standard. Isis has propensity to do things before asked or sticking her nose into things where she shouldn’t. This often gets on the ire of others, who get the impression she walks all over them. Indeed, she cares not about pride or position, but of hard work and results; petty things like reputation mean nothing to her. She’s fairly socially inept, but she still has her fans.

Skills:

-Handiwork (Repairs, wiring, plumbing, etc.)
-Hunting
-Camping
-Gardening

Likes:

-Tinkering
-Food
-Competence
-Responsible people

Dislikes:

-Incompetence
-The cold
-Idleness
-“Art”

History:
Stationed on Era’Thet in an unusual assignment from Daedalus, Isis was not born in Era’Thet, but the big and technologically advanced city At’Pol further east in the pod. She came from a family known for its long line of Fae; their lineage goes back to five or six generations of Fae users. Known for their down-to-earth mentality and independent style on At’Pol, the Juneau family and Isis acquired a bit of an infamous character within Daedalus.

Isis acquired her wings at age ten, reaching stage III by the age of 12. It was around this time that she was posted to Era’Thet, a small, almost backwards town to “bolster the burgeoning Daedalus outpost there.” This assignment came swiftly after Isis called out her direct superior on a series of bad orders. Naturally, she missed the subtle connection that it was considered a punishment (who would want to go there if you can live in At’Pol?) for the insubordination and “shaming.”

It was an unusual change for her to move from a land of near techno-wizardry to a place that just got electric and water running only recently, but Isis found it easy enough to acclimate to the sleepy town. Coming from a well-established family, money and housing was not too much of a problem, and she spends time improving her modest house when off duty.

---

Artificial Wings

"The Gate Key"

Stage: III

Description/Image:
Isis’ wings are unique in that they manifest themselves not as a suit of armor to wear, but as an array of 12 domed kite-shaped plates that she can freely manipulate. They are metallic black in property and appearance, with inlaid fluorescent blue lines. The plates function as shields that can be freely placed around her, providing passive or active protection from any would-be assailants. However, they can also be used offensively as weapons; the plates can be combined together to create two electromagnetic launch platforms that function independently of her abilities. Like the shields, the positioning of these devices can be freely placed around her. When used in this mode, she has no armor to use. Isis’ primary weapon manifests itself as a grand lance, thin and colored dark silver with an inset sea-blue pattern. The tip of the blade is thin and long, not unlike a sword, but still retains a manageable heft.

Ability:
Her ability is the ability to manipulate ferrous metals and by extension, magnets and to a certain degree, electromagnetic properties. It is a very linear and utilitarian ability; but nonetheless extraordinarily powerful in the wipe scope of uses it brings to the table.

Edged Horizon

Ignoring Yazulayne’s overtures into their conversation, Chad reciprocated Lenz’s handshake with an equally firm handshake. The nobility of the three sovereign nations would beg to differ, Chad chuckled to himself. To some certain nobles, those would be fighting words. Chad shrugged off the shrewd attack in his best business-like manner; an apology in any manner was enough for him. He quickly moved to address the butler’s inquiry.

“As it stands now,” started Chad, carefully, “We have a general understanding of where he might be, but not an exact location.” Chad quickly recalled the maps and charts he had brought with him from his ship; he had memorized the sea charts but not the continent. Nonetheless, he had managed to remember the better portion of the Astopol political map during the ample amount of time they had in the trip to the Archipelagos. He disagreed with Rilolia.

“Rilolia, the prisons you’re thinking of are large, general security prisons for common folk, murderers, and thieves. They may be secure but I doubt they hold political or religious prisoners. Word would easily get out if a high profile detainee such as Mr. Warren arrived at such a facility.” Chad had earlier concluded that it was more likely that the man was held in a well-defended fort or small prison. “It more likely that he is being detained in something more secure or more obscure. As it is, Lyra and I have compiled a list of possible locations, but it’s not like we can march up to each one and lay siege to it. We need to narrow it down further.”

Wingless: From the Cracked-Open Sky (Flying Whales and Magical Mecha Kiddies)

Make an OOC, and use it as an excuse to the spam the motherloving shit out of their PM boxes.

Wingless: From the Cracked-Open Sky (Flying Whales and Magical Mecha Kiddies)

Actually, I think Rodey wants new blood.

Wingless: From the Cracked-Open Sky (Flying Whales and Magical Mecha Kiddies)

Knowing Rodey, "polite" is take everything you know and love and crush it under his foot.

Wingless: From the Cracked-Open Sky (Flying Whales and Magical Mecha Kiddies)

Apply post to face.

Wingless: From the Cracked-Open Sky (Flying Whales and Magical Mecha Kiddies)

Replying to make Rodey feel better.

Edged Horizon

Chad’s eye visibly twitched as he eyed the Lorchais butler. The vampire’s insult was not overt but his tone and look of disdain was obvious enough that it was a direct insult to his person. A drunkard? Mundane? He had only 50 milliliters of alcohol in the past three days, his glass included. For a man of connections, a captain and merchant, Chad always dressed the part. He wore clean, crisp clothes and he carried himself with a military straight posture. He always gave a firm handshake when introduced to another individual and did his best to accommodate a person to a reasonable extent. He was probably better composed and better dressed than Rilolia, even aboard this godforsaken airship, and he wore an unmistakable clasp that indicated he was a commissioned captain of Illiserev. A butler that could not judge his position or standing was not a very good one, but Chad decided to humor the man with introduction.

“Well then, Mr. Lenz Blanc, I am pleased to make your acquaintance and I would like to welcome aboard the airship Frelia Star. I am captain Chad Howard of the Illiserev frigate Laurentine Castle. If you have any pertinent questions, please address them to me or acting Captain Moko Windclaw.” Chad extended his hand to give the man a handshake. “Oh, I would like to mention Rilolia is not the only nobility aboard this vessel, so I must ask you to refrain from making crass generalizations about my acquaintances.” Chad didn’t give a damn about Lyra’s noble blood and nor did she, but he certainly wanted to kick the incompetent and arrogant butler down a notch.

--

Down in the mess hall, Lyra stopped her reading mid-turn. She had a felt an unfamiliar charge in the air. She initially thought it was Yazu casting some manner of spell, but the power of the charge was rather large, and she suddenly felt the presence of another entity aboard the airship. As it was with Yazu and Rilolia, any person that boards themselves onto a vessel in the middle of the ocean has some manner of purpose in mind that would warrant Lyra’s attention, especially when she had nothing particularly good to do. And with that in mind, Lyra found herself on deck after grabbing a warmer cloak along the way.

Draping the linen fabric around her neck, she scanned the deck for the presence she had felt below. She didn't have to look long to see where he was as she found Chad and the others engaged with him. The new arrival on deck was an older man that Lyra surmised to be a butler. He was not familiar to her nor was the manner of magic used in the style of the Mauritania family, so Lyra concluded that the butler must be related to Rilolia in some way. Nobody else aboard was wealthy or influential enough besides the two of them. She could see Chad was displeased to some degree with the butler, but he was displeased with a great many things as of late. It wasn’t of paramount importance, so she paid him no mind. Getting within earshot distance of the group huddled near the newcomer, she found that he was indeed related to Rilolia in some way. Now this was of paramount importance; if her family was getting involved, there would be an order of magnitude more information that Lyra could glean about Talze Utera and the vampires, or perhaps even gain some manner of favor. But for the meantime, perhaps she could get a competent butler like him to fix the holed walls preventing her from reading properly…