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He didn’t have a sense, really, of whether or not this was something he was comfortable with or not. It was warm though, so that was a plus. But the soot was already dying his white shirt gray, so that was a minus. Plenty of freebies along the way though, another plus. A gathering of weirdos in the distance, that was a min-

Wait, no, plus, plus, plus. Goddamn. One of em looked actually angelic, a pale bloom that just begged to be plucked and preserved, while another looked like the type of person you wanted to get euthanized via sex with. There were a handful of others, a curious baldie with an interesting head-shape and a deranged but charming personality and a brat that seemed to have the same idea that he had, coming into this. He favored her with a smile, which was really just the narrowing of his amber eye and a wordless opening of his lipless mouth as a slender finger ‘tapped’ against the side of the fluorescent flame that made up perhaps a quarter of his head.

She held her spear in her hand; he had salvaged three and stuck them into his head before making it halfway to join the others amongst the ruins of a pyrrhic resistance.

Of course, now that he was looking over the men who gathered (a much more dour gang of fellows), perhaps he should’ve settled for two instead. That white-haired man’s swords looked like they’d fetch something nice on the market. If there was a market. What even was a market?

“Huh. Shit.

Pain in the ass. Habit moved his actions and thoughts, but there was only a vague sense of understanding where those habits came from. And right now, such habits turned towards…

“C’mon, you didn’t scalp yourself while shaving, didja?” He spoke instead, a lax derision slathered over his tone as he turned to the bald woman. “Ain’t no way I came from the same place as these frumpy bastards. Not from the same place as the darling princess over there either, that’s for sure.” The lanky man’s gaze turned to his surroundings once more, confirming what he already knew. Piles of burnt bodies, defenses in every direction, and yet no sign of what it was that pushed these people to the brink. They weren’t gonna survive a second attack, that was for sure. But hey.

“Now now, don’t be so harsh on the boy,” he said, shifting attentions to the statuesque witch-lady. “I’m sure every kid’s wanted to say a line like that once in their life. Nevermind that since we’re here, we’ve definitely all been ‘broken’ at least once.”
They’ve got the whole busy with RL thing going on.
@Kronshi Think Redacted mentioned somewhere that so long as it says Apply, you can apply.
Will put up a tentative CS tomorrow (hopefully) that'll make more of an effort to melt other people into Junko's orbit.
Figured I may as well shoot my shot.

Unga bunga'd a post out. MacKinnon is truly an expert at everything.

//Central Village
@Xaltwind
Decorative horns?

“Oh, so that’s your deal!”

MacKinnon didn’t care all too much about who got there first or second or third in the end. If the lady was gonna share rabbits, and if the big man was going to cook them up, then she would happily partake in the meal, as someone who had subsisted off basically just water and desert weeds for the last leg of her journey to this little, abandoned hamlet.

Well, also kinda meant that she didn’t necessarily have anything to bring in terms of food to add to the soup. Her eyes briefly glanced over to the chicken, wondering just how long it’d take before it started pooping out eggs. And then there was the subject of rice as well. They’d probably all be dead if they were just waiting for rice to grow, but that too was something nice to think about in the future.

Maybe she should try some treasure hunting in the forest tomorrow. Surely it was an easy enough task, to come across mushrooms and berries and freshly-dead-but-not-half-eaten animals? Maybe…

“Mm, lemme know when you’re heading out tomorrow then, lady! Plan on heading out to the forest tomorrow and seeing what treasures I can find there, and if there’s something big out there…well, I’ll give you a shout and we can split the find.”

MacKinnon plotted out her future as she continued to clean up her finds for the day. With the dust and dirt of ages revealed, the painted vase looked pretty nice, even! And the silverware definitely glistened in a way that was almost mirror-like! It’d take a lot longer for her to beat the dust and wring the water out of the carpets, but even now, they possessed a pleasing geometric pattern! She whistled a cheery tone, lost for a moment in current finds and future discoveries, only to spot movement in the distance again.

Huh.

She had kinda expected Victor to stick around with his grandkiddo, least until she was feeling better. Or maybe Sheryl’d have played anxiety-mom like she did when she first saw MacKinnon. But, ugh…………

The treasure hunter cleaned up her last batch of goods, briefly considered tossing the blacksmithing tools into the well, and then shelved that thought before she sauntered over to the wagon where Wilma was. Peeking her own head over the wagon, MacKinnon’s eyes creased into a grin when she spied the child.

“Heya, kiddo,” MacKinnon said. “That was pretty scary, wasn’t it? I think you were pretty brave though, y’know? A real tough girl, honestly.” Her chin propped up onto the side next. “Cause when I was your age, stuff like that’d have made me pee myself!”

She tilted her head to the side, a gesture of doubt.

“You didn’t pee yourself, did you? They’re making food soon, so…”
Unga bunga'd the post. Totally slipped my mind soz.


Of course it had to be related to the government or the academy, with a backdoors option found only through the approval of that eccentric Headmaster. Only made Ciara more important, in truth, if she was indeed the Umbralist that all others thought she was.

Perhaps he ought to have stuffed her inside the World Between Doors while he had the option to, and pretend that she had utilized her shadow-teleportation to give everyone the slip? Ah, but he doubted that she was biologically any different from a regular human. Ciara hadn't warped in the same way that Flanchetto spoke of, which was another subject that intrigued the ever-curious Strigidae.

And then, of course, there was the subject that involved Chunji's complete about-face in terms of personality. All of a sudden, he was smiling? Making jokes? Displaying sarcasm? Otis's needle paused as his gaze flitted between Chunji and Rio, before he put his kit away and pulled out his gun instead, loading bullets into the chamber.

Not, of course, because he expected Chunji had been possessed by that imp, but rather because the carriage had stopped, and it appeared no one knew why.
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