Fairess

Essence of the World: Cadence [Always Open]

@Themerlinhawk
Interesting! Tai food always struck me as super hot when it wants to be hot. Tongues of steel and peppers of iron, I say!

Brian Jacques has been my favorite author since I was in elementary school. He's best known for his book, Redwall, and the Redwall series spun off from it, of which a cartoon series was made after.

Wishing Star - A Frontier Adventure

EXPEDITION MASSACRE TEN MILES FROM DUST

Eight men and women belonging to the Bluebird Expedition League were found dead yesterday. Dust patrolmen recovered the bodies and determined the cause of death to be bullet wounds found on each corpse. The Bluebird Expedition League was thought to have been heading east of Dust, approximately ten miles out from town when they perished in the night. Any witnesses of the event and those who may have any further details about the massacre are encouraged to seek out Sheriff Terrance Goldberg for a monetary reward for aiding in the search and capture of the criminals responsible.

Monde Trade Company

Odds and ends for every aspiring frontiersman. Sturdy boots, dried foods, camp supplies, and travel savvy runes all for sale at a reasonable price. Make sure your first trip into the wild isn't your last; trust Monde Trade Company for supplies you can rely on.
--
13 Red St.
--

Sleeping Bear

Rest in luxury with Sleeping Bear, a hotel of the finest quality on the frontier. Bedrooms accommodate two to four people with the option of rolling beds for even larger groups. Basic amenities and stabling are provided with each room.
--
24 Rail St.
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Red River Saloon

Open all hours of the day to provide delicious breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and drinks. Try Mr. Philey's custom mulberry brew for a sweet and refreshing drink. Excellent prices and a comfortable lounge make Red River Saloon the best watering hole for residents and explorers alike.
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11 Rail St.
--

Verity set down the newspaper as she took a long sip of her fruit-flavored booze. The sparkling sweetness fizzed like a griddle at breakfast time as she swallowed, making her smile as she closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation. All around her was the morning buzz—mercenaries clamoring over a billboard for work, laborers stopping in to inhale their breakfast before running off to work, and even respectable business men shared a drink over their contracts. No table was empty and the booths were even more crowded, cream-colored wallpaper and dusty wooden floor filled wall to wall with people going about their business. The only space left was at the bar where Verity sat with her plate and mug, a smattering of empty stools on either side of her.

She was an oddity all by herself, one leg folded over the other in a most unladylike fashion. Her pleated black skirt was fluffed out like a bell, dark lace spilling out from the space between her legs and the skirt's ruffled hem. Her blouse was a loose white thing topped with a lacy black jabot, which ruffled over her chest like a long handkerchief. The long, loose blonde curls of her head had been pinned back to cascade down her neck in a series of bubbly curls, which bounced over her shoulders as she turned her head and asked the barkeep for another drink.

Verity had been staying in Dusk for roughly a week, and during that time had picked up every newspaper and wilderness related magazine to figure out how she wanted to go about finding an expedition. She'd lingered enough to have heard all sorts of stories—stories about leaders who cheated their hirelings with dubious contracts or even worse, sold out naive groups of explorers to bandits who awaited them in ambush once those explorers made it out of town. Finding an honest expedition leader was like searching for a needle in a haystack; she needed someone who was bold but just, a level-headed sort of fellow who could balance the prospect of finding the Wishing Star with the reality of the harsh Frontier.

Perhaps she was being too idealistic. Several days with no results was making her antsy and the food was getting bland. Sure, the bacon was thickly sliced and spiced with bacon, and sure, the meat was cooked to be crunchy and yet with bits that practically melted in her mouth. The scrambled eggs were a treat too, bathed in cheese that left strings attached to her fork when she tried to eat them. Even the toast was decent, but that was mostly because of the dark mulberry jam spread on top of it. All of it was delicious, yes, but it did nothing to settle her troubles.

What to do, hmm... Verity eyed the clock sitting atop one of the barkeep's shelves, some delicate wind-up affair with copper numbers welded to its face. Barely ten minutes had passed, yet it felt like an hour. She couldn't help but groan, leaning her elbow on the bar as she gazed out through a window that seemed like it was more smudged dirt than glass.

Essence of the World: Cadence [Always Open]

@Howler
Silas sounds like a legit dude. War and the men who walk away from it are dark and deep themes worth exploring, and your descriptive syle bears the weight of such things quite well. I'd say your fellow rpers missed out!

@Themerlinhawk
I choose question 3! If you had to pick salsa for your chips, would you go hot, medium, or mild?

Essence of the World: Cadence [Always Open]

Well, you guys's posts are what brought me here in the first place! Hopefully I won't bog things up too much.

Essence of the World: Cadence [Always Open]

Loom: Midtown Swait District

Day 2, Evening, 2254
Roanne

“Tch.” Roanne sheathed her blade at last, tossing the claw away as she watched Jasper's and Ian's exchange. There were plenty of things she had to say—that Jasper was an utter hypocrite, for instance, and that Peacekeepers were far from the first line of defense on her streets. Hazumi's gifts hadn't created peace so much as suppressed and forced violence to hide itself better. Until the gap between the wealthy and the poor closed, until racism and nationalism and greed disappeared from every race, no one being had the kind of power that would create world peace. Time and time again, she would be called upon to save innocent people from greed and hate. Time and time again, she would drop everything, sometimes able to save those people and sometimes too late to fix anything. Time and time again, she would wonder what the hell she was trying to do and ask what sort of difference her little acts could accomplish. Time and time again, she would look into herself and find the same answer: she hoped it would stop someday. Not tomorrow, or a year later, or centuries later, but someday, they would either smarten up or die out.

As the musician made his way out the alley, Roanne offered a mock salute. “Try not to die before we meet again! I'd like to see a line of defense that isn't my own for once. Maybe I'll even help if you're in trouble.”

She then shifted her gaze to Jasper, the glint of her eyes caught in a devious smile. “See? So nice of me. I owe you one, but I don't think you need a deadweight for the rest of the evening, so...”

"You might remember that you are only a part of what keeps the people of this city safe." Resisting the urge to roll his eyes a bit, Jasper chuckled and headed slowly towards the van. "Mighty as you are, there are others at work in its streets and your goals are not dissimilar."

Roanne snorted, effectively goaded into following the angel to his car. She even opened the van's door for him without any conscious thought to do so. "I put up with you, don't I? You just get to play chummy because you're better at hiding things."

"You assume I don't have an honest appreciation for the good work of others in this city." He pointed out, nodding his thanks as he sank heavily into the passenger's seat of the van, Alba and Rubra already climbing in to their designated positions. "You shouldn't, just like you shouldn't dismiss them so easily. You might find your work easier working with others rather than doing it alone. Are you coming?"

She groaned, shaking her head before she closed the door. "Nah, my ears are starting to bleed. I'll be back to chat about those boys once you get some information out of them, though."

“Of course." Smiling easily, he inclined his head to her with weary appreciation. The window rolled down as he spoke, Rubra's finger steady on the button. "Thank you for your service today Roanne, I'm glad you were not more grievously hurt. Be well."

“Yeah, yeah, don't do anything crazy yourself.” She gave him a last wave before the van's window rolled up and the angel was off. Stupid. Doesn't he already know he's made me well? She owed him a proper thanks, but it was late for that and he apparently had something to finish up. Whatever disappointment she might have felt at having only a moment to speak with him was just as nicely replaced with relief that she wasn't going to get more of an earful. For someone who seemed so pained to move around at all, his mouth was sure a busy thing.

Her wings materialized from nothing, unfurling with an impatient flick. The feathers were stiff but soft, the white of them marred by a slight cream coloring that zigzagged from the top to bottom of each. That she could simply leap and burst her wings into a frenzy of action that carried her off the ground spoke volumes of strength she'd come to take for granted. Her first thought was to simply fly back home, but the more she thought about it, there was another place closer, nicer, and—ah, too much fun to pass up!

~--~

“Five-Hundred North and Elms Street, Apartment four o' two.”

The woman on the other side of the phone confirmed the address, thanked Roanne, and promptly hung up. A moment later and Roanne jammed a key into a door, frowning as she slipped into the darkness inside. The temperature of the flat was always too cool, her natural reaction always to reach out for the touchpad on the wall. After unlocking the system with a few finger swipes, the lights of the hallway faded on. She bleeped the thermostat from “19 C” to “25 C,” dimming the lights back down before putting the house speakers on some relaxation music. The white, marbled floor and walls carried the soft sound well, surrounding her with the robust huff of an accordion and some jazzy sort of beat.

Her clothes hit the floor before she made it to the shower. It was odd, though—private as the bathroom was, a combination of cool stone, empty space, and a wide, dominating mirror made her feel uncomfortably vulnerable. The shower siding itself was nothing but glass, so polished and squeaky clean she saw it only because of a smudge of light reflecting off it. Even the floor of the shower was absurd, so starkly white she felt guilty for what she was about to do to it.

Blood, sweat, grime—she closed her eyes, lost in sensation as hot water washed it all away. The annoying thing was the shampoo and conditioner, as both had been placed in identical metal containers to match the monochromatic theme of the whole place. She had to open and sniff at both, then had to remember which smell was which. If she got it wrong, she'd have to shower again and—well, was another shower really an unpleasant notion?

Luxuriously as she spent her time, she still managed to get a robe on and her hair combed out before her delivery arrived. Two pizzas—a combination and a chicken alfredo—came hot and ready, at which point she retreated to the pristine living room to enjoy them. Like the rest of the flat, the floor and walls were white and marbled, only a fluffy, cream-colored rug breaking up the tile. Even the furniture was blanched and stark, an oddly shaped couch sprawling out in three different angles with only a slight backrest. Setting her pizzas down on one end, she reclined across the sofa on her stomach.

Could she eat two whole pizzas? Well, yes, and she did two slices at a time, folding one slice on top of the other and munching away. She paused only to lick her fingers, sometimes drinking straight from a two-liter bottle of soda the delivery boy had brought. Only in hindsight did she realize how bad a choice caffeine was for the time of night, but oh well. She hadn't caught up on the latest episode of City Slickers anyway, and she needed to forget the bug-eyes still haunting her from the back of her mind.

(Co-post with @Howler)

Essence of the World: Cadence [Always Open]

Loom: Midtown Swait District

Day 2, Evening, 2254
Roanne, Ian, and Zadkiel

She grit her teeth, unable to keep the blood from rushing to her cheeks. It was karma, perhaps, that she should wind up quite so humiliated after making idle threats to Jasper. Curled up on the ground, being fussed over--Goddammit, this isn't me! People can't have faith in this! Roanne felt a sharp pang in the back of her skull as her thoughts smacked against it. She was going to wind up with a headache on top of the pain spiking through her side if she didn't get it together.

“Jasper—” Her hand moved to his wrist, but stopped before she could shove his light grasp off her. As her gaze met his, something seemed to snap in her tight half-smile, her lips softening into a real one. How could she berate him? A sly remark would taste too bitter, the warmth of his hand and the reassurance of his presence damning any sense of ingratitude brought on by his teasing. Hate it as much as she did, she was in his debt. Again. Without having to expend any strength of his own, she could feel the bond between them surge in her body. Her heart literally strained at first, pressured by every connecting vein as her angelic essence flared awake. For all his quiet grace, the ambivalence he seemed to exude, the burning strength of his will seemed to fill every pore of her body.

To become the metaphysical extension of righteous desire, to defy the reality of personal despair—that was the true nature of a Guardian's essence, and it was impossible to manifest without a source of will to embody. She'd lost that strength as soon as the girl-demon had turned on her, which had undoubtedly been part of its plan. Trapped in a state of vulnerability with only her instincts and claws to attack with, the demon's raw strength would have been enough to tear her apart if she'd hesitated for even a second. Only as the power came gushing from under her skin did she realize just how dire her situation had been.

“You were faster than I anticipated.” Roanne's free hand slipped down to the claw before yanking it out without hesitation. The sickening, suckling sound of its leaving was followed by a gush of fresh blood. Red streams soaked down the tears of her jacket, the metallic stench of blood warming the air immediately near her. Yet her smile didn't so much as flinch.

The bleeding stopped. Roanne chuckled freely, standing up as she examined the claw in one hand and her sword in the other. “I'm sorry to make you deal with it. Sloppy of me, huh? But I guess there's no denying it now: the demons are getting stronger. They've been feeding.”

Her gaze swiveled to Ian, and this time she slipped the goggles off her face and down around her neck. “You're right about the judgment thing. I know how peacekeepers and you Academy pawns think. That killing a demon on any grounds should be punishable means you and I probably won't get along all that well. Demons aren't equipped to kill angels—everything they've evolved thus far has been to hunt humans in pursuit of the same level of power. For every dead angel, there's a hundred, sometimes a thousand human lives gone with it. That's the prelude to war that's starting now, right here in the streets.”

She flicked her sword dismissively, sighing. “When you were busy fussing over me, you left yourself completely open to attack. I didn't react because I was shocked by my own response—that I actually thought about killing you. So maybe I do owe you an apology. We're even.”

Essence of the World: Cadence [Always Open]

Loom: Midtown Swait District

Day 2, Evening, 2254
Roanne, Ian

“Heh.” Roanne's shoulders strained with contained laughter as she smiled back. That look on his face was downright murderous, the muscle on his forehead so tense she could see a vein pop. He seemed to be talking more to himself than her at first, his hands unable to decide whether or not they wanted to attack as he drew and withdrew an instrument. Were she prey, she would have felt fidgety, even afraid, but the relaxed curve of her back and the hilt held loosely in her fingers betrayed no such sentiments. She wasn't an idiot—he could attack at any moment—but making her guard seem low was meant to be placating and energy conserving.

She spat out a gob of blood that had been collecting in her mouth. “I'm not sure if there's anyone else in Loom as heavy-handed and ignorant as mages. Give them a glimpse of the universe and they get the idea that all of creation answers to them. There's nothing to be gained by fighting you, so I'm going to try and help you understand what you just walked into.”

It was too early to be exerting herself again, but she put on a good show, legs steady even as she cradled one arm around the bloody claw attached to her side. Casually, she made her way over to the three boys groaning on the asphalt. The one with the gray hoodie yelped as she poked him with her foot. “These are called gangsters. Gangsters rob and kill people who intrude on their turf. I stopped them. Like that hideous corpse over there—I stopped it from killing more people, nothing more, nothing less.”

Sighing, Roanne swung the flat of her blade over her shoulder and slowly began to walk towards the mage. Even without his introduction, she could see it—the aura, like bright red smoke wisping off his body before dissipating into the air, which marked him as a human in possession of magic. “That view from the Academy is just so high, isn't it? Must be disorienting, condescending all the way down here to tell me what Hazumi's idea of law is. All I'm concerned with is keeping people who can't defend themselves away from the cowering monsters in front of you. Monsters that, by the way, you failed to keep in check just now.”

If Ian didn't flinch away or otherwise move, he'd find himself side by side with the angel as she sauntered ever forward. Her eyes were more gold than green the closer they were, almost metallic. And she was still smiling.

@Themerlinhawk

Essence of the World: Cadence [Always Open]

Loom: Midtown Swait District

Day 2, Evening, 2254
Roanne, Zadkiel, Ian

"Roanne. It's been too long."

Stupid. The smile Jasper's voice brought to her lips flinched into a wince as her free hand grasped the quickly-soaking spot on her side. “Hey, you. Please tell me you have time for an appointment right about now.”

Silent for a moment, the irony of the situation was lost on neither of the two men on the other end. "I take it there's a reason this can't wait until tomorrow." Jasper offered neutrally as he straightened and tilted his head to the ceiling, the better not to have to watch Ricket's growing mirth and to keep his voice and patience level. "Are you in trouble?"

She laughed--or rather, began to before the mirthful jerk of her chest made the claw in her side spark with pain. Her breath caught, carefully silenced before she answered. "Maybe a little. I've got three gangsters, a corpse, and less blood than I'd like. How fast can you get here?"

From where he knelt, Ricket couldn't help but play the peanut gallery.

"Listen, if you've got other plans I can always just--"

"Shush." Raising his finger once more pointedly to silence the man in chains, who was very nearly cackling, Jasper kept his eyes pointedly on the ceiling as his mind ran through a few basic calculations. "That depends where you are and how seriously I am needed personally."

She snorted, half amused and half insulted that such a situation didn't garner his immediate attention. "I'm not interrupting a date, am I? Because if you think my ass isn't worth whatever you're getting over there, I'm going to rip this thorn out of my side and make it yours."

"Is that a woman?" Rickets was in stitches, now, actually laughing. It echoed around the chamber, the demon grinning up to his captor--anything that threw this asshole off his game was a victory in his book. "Are you telling me a freak like you has a girlfriend?"

"A good friend." Jasper corrected pointedly, looking back down to the demon with eyes that might even have been slightly narrowed in irritation. "And my relationship with Roanne is none of your business. Now--"

"So you're in a relationship, then."

Closing his eyes, Jasper offered a long-suffering sigh. "Alba?" The laughing on the other end of the phone was replaced by the wet packing sound of a fist on flesh and flesh on the floor, a distant wet cough not entirely dissimilar from Roanne's own. Jasper returned to the phone with a roll of his eyes.

"I'm sorry, my guest is being rude. Where are you?"

Roanne couldn't help but smile, though it was short lived as she stumbled to rest her good side against the alley wall. "God, what sort of nonsense are you up to? Two-hundred East and Beckstreet, last I checked. In an alley across from... a pawn shop, looks like. The boys aren't going anywhere, if you were looking for som—ngh! Some new redemption project. Things are getting worse, Jasper. I was set up."

"That can be discussed shortly enough."

By now Ricket was getting used to lying facedown on the concrete floor. With the massive man's foot in his back crushing the air from his lungs (and threatening to break more than one of his ribs in the process), he didn't have enough room to breathe let alone taunt the man in white who was currently rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"Stay out of sight, I'll arrive with assistance shortly. Do not leave the alley and do not draw attention to yourself. I'm on my way."

Rather than give her time to interrupt a witty quip with some injury-related noise, Jasper swiped the call and let out a well-held sigh. Of course she would get herself into some trouble that just so happened to demand his attention in the middle of something. Why wouldn't she? Handing the phone back to Alba, who stepped off the demon and slid it back into his jacket's breast pocket, he turned and made for the door.

"Wait, are you kidding me?" Ricket growled past the coughing fit he was having trying to suck the air back into his lungs. "You can't just leave me like this!"

"I'm sorry. I'll return soon enough and appreciate your patience." Jasper said without looking, his mind obviously on other things. Alba fell silently into step just behind him, moving ahead only to pry open the hatch that served as the chamber door. "In the meantime, I invite you to reflect upon the ill that has come to the world as a result of your actions and know that shortly you serve instead as the force of good that I know you are capable of being."

"You can't do this!" Rickets shouted, trying to haul himself up against the chains and reaching their limits for the umpteenth time that evening. "You can't fucking leave me here! I swear, when you get back—"

But Jasper wouldn't find out what would happen to him when he got back. Alba had clasped the door back tight, locking it with a swift jerk to the wheel on the other side, and whatever noise Rickets hoped to make was lost.

"Thank you, Alba." Jasper smiled slightly, moving to hobble his way towards the stairs up to the facility and the garage, already preparing himself for what he may find upon his arrival. "I was starting to get a headache."

~---~

Roanne snorted as the call clicked off, in a little too much pain to think about what sort of rebuttal the tepid angel deserved. She could feel the heat of her blood running down her leg, a steady little stream of life leaving. But as long as she didn't remove the offensive claw, all that blood wouldn't come gushing out until she passed out and...

"Damn!" Roanne hissed, her fist making a soft thud against the brick wall. It wasn't as though she'd been careless, but at the same time, there hadn't really been time to process the situation. If that thing'd had a single other second to fully transform, she'd be... well. What sort of demon was it, anyways, piercing through angelic mail with its bare body like that? And why hadn't she seen its demonic aura sooner?

The sound of footsteps in the quiet street immediately alerted her to another presence. Her body was a shock of reaction rather than thought and movement, almost as if she moved by instinct alone when she snapped around. She would have readied her blade, too, but—Do not leave the alley and do not draw attention to yourself. Jasper was coming for her, and ramming into another conflict could put more than just herself at risk. So she took a moment for herself, easing her shoulders and forcing a smile as she met the sight of a gun.

She herself was an interesting sight, goggles covering up most of her face in the dark. There was nothing fancy on her—just a brown leather jacket slightly parted over a green camisole and casual jeans. Were it not for the blood drizzling down her leg and the nicks in her shirt and jacket where silver glinted in the slight moonlight, she might have seemed like an every-day, sword slinging sort of maverick. She gave that blade a light little twirl, flicking the blood off the silvery metal.

“Don't know a whole lot of ways to fix a wound with a gun.” Roanne rested a hand on her good hip, leaning slightly on one leg. “Believe me when I say it's best for you to be walking in the opposite direction.”

@Themerlinhawk ; (co-post with @Howler)

Essence of the World: Cadence [Always Open]

@Themerlinhawk

Nice post, Merlin! Before I write into my next post, though, I should clarify a few things. Roanne's wings were put away as soon as she landed, so they're not out. And she got on the phone as soon as she disentangled herself from the demon rather than collapsed, which is where I'm going to pick up muh post.

Wishing Star - A Frontier Adventure

@Lord of Evil

I don't know why, but that bunneh avatar keeps making me think about this.