McHaggis

The Last Avatar

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The Last Avatar

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The Last Avatar

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The Walking Dead: Escort

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The Seat of the High King ( High-Fantasy World Building)

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Mass Effect: Omega Serenade

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Mass Effect: Omega Serenade

Daro'Shuris nar Konesh

"The boss-man said we as a group talk too much," she said over the private channel. "So, this is me not talking. There's not much point when I have nothing worthwhile to say, either." Sure, Nik's outburst had been unexpected and megalomaniacal and insane, the type that Daro would usually use anti-psychotics to treat, but she was pretty certain it was a joke.

She hoped. The staying quiet part was 'just in case'.

Daro wasn't particularly affected by the various sights of death and bloodshed, burnt flesh and imploded suits and the like. She figured that must mean she was getting used to Omega and scenes like these, albeit never as bad. Then again, she had found a pile of Vorcha corpses three feet away from her clinic's front door in the past: not a warning, just someone who thought it would be funny. After that, she'd found nothing too disgusting or obscene. The filter took the edge off the smell, yes, but it was still there, and she wondered how the others must perceive it. "Well, I never thought I'd be thankful for an envirosuit."

Silencing herself with a sharp intake of breath, she kept her attention to the combat scanner. No life signs meant there was little chance of them being ambushed by the corpses littering the building. They were definitely dead. The fading blip of the Turian who staggered in front of them was nothing of importance. Even with a wound that big, she could save him, but only if she had a proper operating table and some heavy-duty medical supplies, all of which was either at home or destroyed with her clinic.

Plus, it probably wouldn't go down well with her allies. She resolved herself to ignore the body sliding wetly down the pipe with only a muttered, "Keelah."

But it only got worse, with the Batarian tearing off the Krogan's crest in a move that was far too brutal to stare at for more than a few seconds. Daro pointedly turned her head away so she didn't have to view the scene, thinking of anything but the amount of pain it would've been causing.

"Why would I take it from them? It would be useless for a blood transfusion without the proper equipment around... Oh, right, I get you." A joke. Humour. It was a common thing on Omega, a defense mechanism for some, utter insensitivity for others. Daro preferred her own method of pretending it wasn't happening.

Watching this, though, it was very hard for her to pretend that Jek was someone they should be helping instead of killing. He was exactly the sort of terrible person that Omega was ran by, and Daro could only hope that they – the vigilantes, the thorn in the sides of gangs everywhere – were not becoming mere mercenaries themselves.

She hoped Nik knew what he was doing.

The Seat of the High King ( High-Fantasy World Building)

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Kalos Under Attack - Pokemon RP

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Forsaken Children of War (Kirah and McHaggis)

Siobhan waltzed right into the designated meeting spot, wand behind her ear and schoolbag (complete with omnioculars inside) swinging at her hip. Subtlety wasn't her strong point – she knew that – but she also supposed somewhat belatedly that she ought to know to check around doorways, especially in such troublesome times.

There was a Gryffindor in there, one whom she'd seen around the tower a few times. Siobhan didn't know his name. He looked over at her as she entered, and her gaze was split between Kyle and the sort-of stranger. It was good that he wasn't wearing his Slytherin Tie nor the crest on his person. That would've been bad.

But Siobhan was fairly certain the guy didn't realise her friend was from a different house.

“And you're... MacFusty right? First years, both of you?”

Siobhan nodded mutely. He scoffed.

“Look, this is where we watch the Quidditch tryouts every year – find your own spot.”

“Hey, that isn't fair! You're the only one here... and Kyle was here first!” Siobhan crossed her arms.

“Right?”

“Not quite. Now scram,” the Gryffindor said, before pausing, eyebrows furrowing in obvious confusion. “Wait, you're not in Gryffindor.” His eyes turned back to Kyle. Thank Merlin he was slow – Siobhan swore she could smell the sawdust burning from where she stood as the older boy tried to work out who it was.

Siobhan looked at Kyle desperately, trying to convey that she thought they should run. Probably.