Fairess

Obsolete Angels

An involuntary chill ran up her spine as the man stepped closer. Out of pure reflex, she stepped back with her good leg, raising her left arm for a preemptive strike. Experience with the smaller, faster drones had taught her it was best to play defensive, waiting for the foe to overextend itself in the first strike so she could easily side-step and counterattack. Distance control was, in many ways, the best defense against attack. Had she not been bred for complete and utter destruction, she might have questioned why she adopted this mindset in the face of accepting help, but she was in critical condition and her instincts to survive in full force.

That’s when she remembered—she didn’t like the scientists. In fact, there were lots of things she didn’t like. She didn’t like the cold air or the caustic slime irritating her skin; she didn’t like that overactive, furry thing that looked like it might jump and bite at any second; and honestly, she didn’t like the human. Being dependent, forced to trust her body in the hands of one with unknown motives was something she resented.

Nemesis’ face contorted into an expression of pain, and again, she pressed her hand to her head. Why was she thinking such things? Humans were the ones who gave her purpose; they were the reason she existed. She should not be thinking thoughts of rejection—those were contrary to survival. But… the… pressure in her head! What was that feeling! Something inside was screaming at her to tear the man apart right where he stood.

I must… retain clarity. To be distracted is death. Nemesis’ hand clenched into a fist, but it dropped back down to her side. There was something harder in her gaze as she stared back at the man all the same. “I do not require additional attachments at this time. My objective…”

She blinked, realizing that she was giving herself an order, but continued on. “My objective is to survive. Skin damage is irrelevant: warmth and shelter are priority. Assist my movement and take me to warmth and shelter.”

Airedale's Rebirth

Cicely blinked. On one hand, she ought to have expected that the earl could have been so surreptitious, but on the other, wasn’t it a bit extreme? Had he honestly been plotting and watching her since she’d arrived in the country? The present situation said, ‘obviously, yes!' but she still had trouble believing it. Fae creatures were scapegoats for many troubles, but incidents severe enough to gain attention were rare enough that they were often considered superstition. In a way, perhaps, it was like a looming shadow, something visible enough to be frightening, yet too incorporeal to be grasped.

This Gideon, though, he was taking the matter so seriously it really did feel like he was declaring war. On some level, he knew there were things darting beyond his vision, so was it fear that made him so stubborn now? The palpable tension in the air informed her that nothing good would come of refusing him, but even so, she took her time mulling his proposal over.

“To be quite honest, your lordship, I do not appreciate your tone. Up until now, I considered you to be quite a civil person, but you’ve been barring my work with the intention of holding some power over me. That alone is reason for me to outright refuse you—I have no fear of obtaining your ill opinion of me.” Well, she was bluffing a bit there, but she saw no reason to quake in her boots. He was an influential man and had the air of a predator, but she was no criminal and he had no real evidence of her even being a fairy doctor. Well, at least she hoped he didn’t.

Cicely took a deep breath, already imagining that the earl’s frustration was at its brink. “But… given the situation, I am also not inclined to refuse you outright. I do not consider the use of maps and the allowance of doctoring a fair exchange—I am qualified for the practice and that alone should have been considered in the first place. If I am to assist you, I expect compensation for the time I dedicate to your cause, and if it does end up interfering with my contract, you will bear the expenses as a result of its termination. Whether you allow me into your personal library of maps is up to you, but I will not chalk up a few personal favors as being acceptable terms of employment.”

Totem

Well, hm, to help out Mr. Dijonn's options, Adele does have her blinding light beam. It takes a few seconds to charge and can backfire if allies are not prepared, but in the case of attack, it would simultaneously blind and light up the crossbow dudes... maybe?

Obsolete Angels

Thanku~ :P I'm still trying to get a feel for Nemesis, by the way. So far she's starting to feel like a Vulcan.

Obsolete Angels

Everybody was ninja posting Submitting as fast as lightning In fact it was a little bit frightening But they wrote with expert rhyming There were funky cybergels from funky cybertown They were chopping them up and they were chopping them down It's an ancient roleplay art and everybody knew their part From a feint into an edit, refreshed before they read it *continues on in Kung Fu Fighting singing*

Obsolete Angels

Nemesis’ blue eyes widened as the… thing squeezed itself through the fence, thoroughly disturbed. It was neither robot nor human, but some bizarre, erratic creature, and she did not want it anywhere near her. Sadly, she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. With some difficulty, she stood up from her fighting stance, using her single arm to help straighten her left leg out. In the meantime, the human seemed to be prying his way through the fence, and she felt a strange rush of relief. Was she about to be reclaimed? Whatever hope might have been on her face flattened when the man requested a damage report. For the first time she could ever recall, she entertained the thought of lying. After all, if she was too badly damaged, wouldn’t he just leave her to rot as the scientists had? Or perhaps the nature of his question was more benign—did he merely want to make sure that her ability to sense and process was intact? Nemesis scrutinized what she could make of his face, but the light expression he had wasn’t helping her dilemma at all. She went with honest, beginning with the worst. Though her voice seemed entirely natural, like that of a woman’s, her tone remained monotone enough to imitate a computer. “Internal body temperature is critical. Neuron receivers in left leg attachment, ports z32 and z37 are damaged; mobility severely impaired. Wing ligaments and operational gears damaged; flight capability impossible. Skin damage moderate, blood loss significant: estimated time before critical system failure is less than an hour.” In an afterthought, the pitch in her voice rose uncomfortably. "I require assistance."

ZONES: We Moved to the OOC, Greg (Sci-Fi, High-Casual, Development, Character-Driven)

Hm... I see. It looks like things really are on the extreme end. I'll have to think about iiiiiiit, so we'll see when the actual thread comes out.

ZONES: We Moved to the OOC, Greg (Sci-Fi, High-Casual, Development, Character-Driven)

I'm interested! I'm not sure what character concept I would go with, but I'm curious to see what kind of characters will emerge from an idea like this!

Totem

x3 Oh dear! What to do, what to do! I don't know what to do, but Adele thankfully isn't the group's leader, so she gets to be on standby. Not sure how to write my post even so, though. I imagine she's going to be getting a lot of looks since she's supposedly guarding the carriage they likely expect Hemming to step out of.

Obsolete Angels

I'm here! You can probably post since we had our mix-up yesterday. If no one's posting, I don't think it'll get crazy.