Fairess

Obsolete Angels

Yus, yus. We should be all good to go! Can't wait for the next posts to come tomorrow~

Obsolete Angels

... I'm going to be extremely annoying and go back on what I just said. I CAN cut back the post, but there are a few details you should know about the garbage men I was discussing with ReaptheMusic via PM and I gave no thought whatsoever to the fact that someone else may drop in on the situation when I was writing my post. So, can I bother you one last time and we'll see if we can get our posts in tandem? For the time being, I've PM'd you so I don't spam the OoC too much.

Obsolete Angels

xD It's all good! We are just both exceptional post ninjas. Keep the original post with him firing--I will cut through what I've written and post here when I've finished.

Obsolete Angels

Haha. Had to do that once before on another RP where everyone seemly posted at once. Man that was a shit fight to sort out the story. xD

@NuttsnBolts

I have a special word for moments like that: it's called ninja'd. In a large group like this, it's bound to happen more than once, so watch your TMNT and prepare yourselves for some action!

At least we're getting it sorted, so all's good XD

@Daxam

EDIT: Wait... I think I fried a wire in my brain or I'm just not refreshing fast enough. I edited for your edit and then you... when you said first edit you meant that one... okay... uhm... do you want to revert your edit to the former one, or shall I edit mine again?

Obsolete Angels

Of course~ Go ahead and edit it and I'll respond accordingly.

Obsolete Angels

x3 I'm sorry! I just read your edited post myself and realize that mine conflicts with it. I'm not 100% sure how to proceed here, but I can edit my post depending on how you'd like to introduce your character to the situation, so you can at least get some response from Nemesis. Or maybe you could post again, but after my post? Whichever works best for you, I'm happy to edit accordingly.

Obsolete Angels

Hope this helps! Razielle (ScarlettWaters16) is in an abandoned building somewhere in the city and some trash bots are messing around nearby. Lee (ReaptheMusic) is in an alleyway and just malfunctioned and collapsed, only to be found and repaired by Ethan (pure493). Kirk (Mr_pink) is smoking outside of a restaurant nearby. Yuri (PaulHaynek) is also nearby searching for Cyborgels. Kimaris (Art of Fun) is walking around some part of the city. Lexie (NuttsnBolts) is at work in the higher levels of a Desium Corp building, talking with a coworker. Nemesis (Fairess) is at a junkyard along the fringes of the city, currently dealing with garbage men.

Obsolete Angels

It wasn’t physical pain that startled Nemesis, rather, the unwanted act of being accosted. Her skin was so numb she barely felt the deeper scratches on her biceps and shoulders—she did feel a bit slimier as blood oozed over the scraps of her suit, but lubrication was more the advantage in her present situation. As if by instinct, she concentrated on controlling her reaction to the frozen metal being pressed against her body. She shuddered, twitched, but did not cry out. Screaming would be facilitation of her greatest enemies, pain and fear. No, instead, she let her rage take control. It did not come in an animalistic frenzy or red haze: it was a nearly emotionless state on the surface. Underneath that cool veneer, her brain was operating in an accelerated state of spiteful clarity. She saw the thickness of the robot’s metal plates covering its frame and knew immediately that even with a still functional arm, tearing through that outer defense was impossible. This robot was a thing not built for speed or even strength, but durability. Was such a low-maintenance creation truly her final opponent? Very well. Nemesis reached her arms over the lip of the robot’s hand, trying to position herself for an effective strike. I will not submit. I will fight until the conflict takes me—to die resting the laurels of my past was not a suitable end. Yet, even as she thought of an end, she strove for a future. Her single mechanical arm dug into the exposed chink in the robot’s wrist. Even in her broken, worthless state, the act was too easy: joints were almost always the weak spots of any robot, since those parts also required the most flexibility. Sparks flew as Nemesis’ fingers pried into the metal covering protecting the wires and tore the cords apart. Immediately, the grip holding her went limp, and she started to slide. She maintained a hold of the wires, hanging for a moment. It was only natural for the robot to counter-strike, but it didn’t so much as reach for her with its other hand. Even the surrounding robots simply stood there, their little heads jerking around so much it looked like they were malfunctioning. It wasn’t time to gawk. Nemesis let go of the wires, spreading her legs wide as she landed. It honestly wasn’t much of a gap between the thing’s dismantled hand and the ground, but it was a natural stance suited for dodging quickly. With a missing arm and a damaged left leg, she didn’t actually have means of moving gracefully enough to be combative, but her fighting instinct had been painfully refined. Even if she could barely move, she would not give the appearance of such until it was impossible even to keep up the pretense. Running was not an option, so she maintained her posture, eyes swiveling around as she tried to gauge the strange group’s next movement. Would they try to crush her with their sheer mass? They didn’t look particularly fast, but there were enough surrounding her that avoiding being trampled would be… difficult. Would one of them try to grab her, too, or did they have the AI capable of changing tactics? Would they— They just backed off. The ground shuddered as the robots heaved their shoulders and turned away, their oily, dumpster-like torsos hunched as if disappointed. Nemesis blinked, having no understanding of how turning their backs would help their struggle against her. After they took a few steps away, however, they turned back around, glancing behind their shoulders in a way that could only be described as endearing. Nemesis’ stance faltered. Were the things malfunctioning? What was the point in grabbing her for capture if they would walk away the second one of them received damage? They had every advantage to destroy her, yet there they were, standing in the rain and looking back at her like… like… Like they want me. Nemesis pressed her metal hand against the side of her head, feeling an oncoming headache. That word, want, was a term she was familiar with, but had never used in relation to herself. She did not want anything, nor did anyone want anything from her. Her existence had only one purpose, and fulfilling that purpose justified her existence. But that just made for another internal fallacy: if her purpose was to test drones and equipment for the robotics lab and she was no longer there, why did she still exist? Had the abyss finally decided to claim her and she simply didn’t realize it? A strange sense of dread settled into the pit of her stomach. She’d chosen to step out of a potential grave, the one her commanders had dug for her. By trying to return to some semblance of them, she’d disobeyed orders but simply hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. She’d wanted to be needed. Yes, that was the origin of her ongoing confusion, why she was deviating from the singular mindset of destroying every mechanical object in sight. Nemesis let her metal hand fall to her side as she gazed back at the garbage men. “I want to exis—” “Hey! Is everything alright?” That voice—it was definitely human. Nemesis turned her body, one shoulder facing the robots and the other facing the stranger because she couldn’t risk having her back turned to either. Once again, she was faced with a bizarre situation, this one being a human in her presence while she was not restrained. She took orders from them, yes, watched them work on her body, but there had always been an understanding that she was something never to approach without caution. The pile of ruined drone corpses behind her was likely the reason why. Is everything alright… Nemesis’ brow furrowed as she contemplated the strange question. What was right, exactly? She did not know what her current objective was and thus, could not say whether or not she was performing her work correctly. While the man awaited her answer and the robots (their heads were jerking with those strange motions again) watched, Nemesis simply stood there and ruminated on the nature of the question. She was injured—perhaps that was the nature of his inquiry? Had one of the scientists finally come to repair her? Had that encounter with the robots been a test? Nemesis looked down at herself, finding that her suit was little more than shreds clinging to her chest and the tops of her arms and legs. Crosswise cuts streaked across her arms, legs, and sides, and riddled in all that was the oil from the robots as well as the scum of the junkyard. Her hair, more like a matted sponge oozing gunk, was riddled in blood, but she could feel no head injury. Was this state acceptable? That was a stupid question—that was for the commanders to decide. Nemesis finally turned her back to the robots, deciding the human was her priority for attention. It was dark, so she still couldn’t tell much of the man. He did have something abnormal on his head, but otherwise looked like nothing more than the fleshy, limber humans she was accustomed to seeing. Her answer, after a complete analysis of the situation, the question, and the asker, was hardly an answer at all: “Please restate the nature of the inquiry.” OoC: I coordinated with Daxam for the post, so thanks for your patience, Daxam!

Airedale's Rebirth

Ah, he was finally being straightforward--she could relax. He wasn't dragging her off to blackmail her or use her for some other nefarious purpose; he honestly did believe in the influence of the fae. Given the paranoia surrounding the subject, of course he didn't want to discuss such business in front of the other guests. Thus, strangely enough, as he expressed his irritation, she found herself settling back into her calm, usual self. "While I applaud your quest for knowledge and your awareness of beings outside of humankind, I'm afraid I can't assist you. I am already bound to a contract that allowed my voyage here to begin with. I must see such duties through before taking a different job." Cicely took a tentative sip of water before daring to meet the earl's eyes. "I can, however, offer a word of advice." Here, Cicely let the cup rest in her lap as she adopted a stern tone. "There is no known case of any fae society submitting to imposed human rule. They flee or fight as they choose, so think carefully before stirring up the hornet's nest. Things seem peaceful enough now, so I would suggest being content with that."

Airedale's Rebirth

Cicely’s mouth fell agape. Despite her determination to remain composed, the hand holding her glass trembled. Forget the smiles and soft tones—the man had been watching her? He could bat off knowing her work with the fae as a casual convenience, but to her, that was a tightly clasped secret. In a world where fae creatures did not hesitate to make humans into toys and slaves, merely being associated with one was reason enough to be clapped in irons and dragged off to mob justice. Hadn’t her inquiries been a little more subtle? The man was already too close for comfort, too. Cicely angled her legs away from him, forgetting all about her water as she used her other hand to rub at her forehead. Should she feign innocence? Just how much did the earl already know? To simply cave would be to confirm everything the earl suspected, but to flatly deny it would only make him press her harder. Thus, the only option left was deflection. When she found her voice again, it was pitifully small. “Milord, I’m afraid I don’t understand. If there haven’t been any problems with securing your earldom, why have you given yourself to superstition? Surely a scout or one of the esteemed scholars here could give you more information about unknowns to concern yourself with.”