@Nallore I couldn't help myself. :P
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✨Krakoan Prince✨
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7 yrs ago
My power grows exponentially each day as we come nearer to Halloween.
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Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway
Location: Riley's Car
Having made a mental note about Cynthia's reaction to Chris' name, Tuesday couldn't help but wonder if she should talk to Marc about it. On one hand, Cynthia was entirely bonkers, that much was certain. On the other hand, her crazy reminded her of riddles -- little hints -- maybe the blonde actually knew what happened. It was foreshadowing in a book, almost, and the literary nerd in Tuesday was screaming at her to contact the FBI agent.
But the criminal, the druggie, wanted to say as far away from Marc as possible. She didn't intend to go back to prison, and the more she hanged around law enforcement she figured, the greater that possibility became. Her phone buzzed again, and Tuesday declined the call once more. But as luck would have it, fate decided Tuesday would be forced to talk about her recent life choices anyways. "I've been job hunting...It's harder than catching measles at Disneyland," Tuesday joked, hinting towards the Anti-Vaccine movement that had gotten a large following in California. "No one really wants to hire an ex-con, you know?"
She let out a sigh of relief, hearing Cynthia's latest round of giggling. She really didn't want to talk to Riley about how she had gotten high, and where the drugs in her apartment came from, and where she would occasionally sneak them into. "Maybe they'll make a baby Ada or a baby Kai," Tuesday giggled. "What do you think they'd call it? Kadelaide maybe?"
Édouard Riviere
Location: Random Road in Georgia; Could be Mars, as far as he knows
Édouard grumbled slightly, his head spinning a bit after Svetlana's shove. He hadn't intended to grope her! That was something a taco obsessed woman from Pennsylvania would do. He had been raised properly, above all of those petty little things. Putting his nose in the air, he attempted to come up with some sort of righteous defense of himself. "C'était un petit accident!" Édouard protested, but he didn't apologize. He'd perhaps only apologized five times throughout his life. And as far as he could tell from the blush on her face, she must have a crush on him. Wagging his eyebrows a bit, a smug smirk graced his face, until his thoughts strayed to the ginger.
"Amélie," Édouard said, confirming her name. Had he been able to think up a French equivalent for Svetlana, he would have substituted that as well. Figuring that giving Amelia a proper name would help with her transition from a filthy American to a proper Frenchwoman, he couldn't help but grin with pride. He really was god's gift to the world--not that he believed in god, mind you.
Trudging along, Édouard eventually spotted the cars. He frowned slightly at the idea of Svetlana driving again. He didn't see her as being competent at all with that, especially given that she wrecked the car after only a minute. However, Édouard winced at Amelia's broken French. "Amélie, vous parlez français comme une vache espangole."
Glancing at Svetlana's charades, Édouard realized that there had to be a reason for her to refuse to speak in English. The few lessons he'd picked up about how to run his family business came back to him, but they were clouded from a lack of paying attention. Svetlana must have been hiding something from Amelia, not trusted her, or had been pretending to speak English earlier.
"Je peux conduire," Édouard explaining, miming the turning of a wheel and the pressing of the gas. If Svetlana didn't trust Amelia, fine. He certainly didn't trust her to drive, and driving happened to be one of his very few skills. It took him a bit, but eventually, he realized that Svetlana wanted to remove the battery. Cracking his wrists, his shoulder, his back, and somehow his knees, Édouard approached the car battery, exaggerating a bit of a limp. Frowning a bit at the prospect of having to do work, the distant sound of snarling got him to reach in, and yank out the car battery.
"J'ai fini?" Édouard asked hopefully. He was already eyeing the driver's seat of the car, and he'd love nothing more than to be able to relax and just drive until the gas tank ran empty. He'd even forgotten what happened to his last car already, the one he wrecked for no good reason. Car crashes seemed to be his aesthetic.
Pouting slightly at the realization he'd have to do more work now, Édouard put the battery in the truck with all of the enthusiasm of a six year old boy, in the middle of a video game, being asked to clean his room. If his leg hadn't been killing him with pain, he might have even let himself flop to the ground, in order to make a point.
"Svetlana, vous n'êtes pas forte à conduire," Édouard explained. "Je conduirai. D'accord?"
Jack Hudson
Location: Mess Hall ---> Rec Center
Jack kept Tatianna close to him, still mentally recovering from three years of constant "Sudden Death" mode in a video game. He still braced himself for a walker to come around each and every corner, and he chuckled wearily at himself. They always warned new officers coming onto the force that PTSD was possible, but he'd shrugged it off. And here he was, and as far as he could tell, he was definitely developing it. Still, he had his guiding light with him. He had his solovey.
Listening to Tatiana and Miss Sally, Jack felt as giddy as a school girl at the words your house. He was always the slightly feminine guy who wanted a family, the white picket fence, a dog, and 2.5 children. He craved a life of taking kids to school and mowing a lawn, in order to keep up with the HOA. He wanted to be involved in PTA, and all of those sort of mundane things. It was a bit of a paradox, especially considering how many joined the force in order to escape an average lifestyle, but Jack had had his fill of unorthodox living. He couldn't help but crave normalcy.
His heart dropped a bit as he watched her run off to their house, his fingers itching for him to grab a weapon, and cover her in case something came by. Taking a deep breath, Jack couldn't help but feel relieved as Tatiana came back. "Do I get to see a propah recital today?" Jack asked, grinning as he followed her inside of the Rec Center. A goof at heart, he couldn't help but wonder if they ever had dodgeball tournaments in Newnan. Jack always tended to get giddy about those. Perhaps a bit too giddy.
Leaning against the wall, Jack smiled, settling in to watching Tatiana. If he hadn't been trying to keep it a secret, he would've dashed back to their place and grabbed the knot-ring in progress. Instead, he contented himself for working on it while Tatiana slept that night. "You look amazin'" Jack commented, his usual goofy grin on his face. "You look happy."
@FantasyChic Make a lot of sacrifices to the dice gods. It looked like the Cabbage was dead at one point, and here he is, still kicking! :) Don't freak out unless Lady A tells you "10% chance of survival." And then, take an hour to find the perfect gif for that last post, get it prepped, and make peace with the fact your lovely is doomed.
And back ups. Always have a back up ready.
And back ups. Always have a back up ready.
Gotcha. Gerald will be kept on as an NPC then for a few days in RP, and then replaced.
Cecily Ashworth
Location: Justice Memorial; Room 2319
Cecily nearly squeaked, realizing her mistake. The events of the day were starting to mess with her head, and she blushed a bit, accepting the phone back from Gregory. She raised an eyebrow at Caesar's response. Had she not been positively terrified and convinced the Mexican could kill her with a stare, she might have raised an issue with the language. Instead, she sent back a rather meek reply:
This is Cecily Ashworth. Thanks.
Handing the phone back to him, Cecily shrugged slightly. "Maybe I'm in shock? Dunno. Haven't felt like this since cramming for five APs the night before," Cecily joked, attempting to lighten the mood. Had it been any other dead guy in the room, she might have succeeded. Shaking her hand out again, she made a mental note that punching people perhaps wasn't for her. She'd stick with science, leave all the punching and such to Gregory.
Returning to her work, she found little else in the room. The television was informing the public about yet another suicide, but she was far too frazzled to pay attention to it. She couldn't find any other bugs in the room, but she couldn't help but be paranoid that they'd tapped her cell phone. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up slightly, as she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.
Cecily nodded at Gregory's advice, deciding that she'd start to carry her gun on her. It wasn't much use to her now, locked away in her apartment. "I know...Listen, I can come over to your place tonight. If you bring whatever evidence you can, files, the whole deal...I can see about analyzing it all there. Send me a text and I can let you know what kit boxes to bring. It's a bit rudimentary, but..."
She trailed off, not wanting to say the obvious. Someone within the forensics department likely had their hands dirty, so to speak. The evidence locker wasn't the safest of places for this information, and the other forensic techs might easily pass off a positive result as a negative one. It wouldn't allow them to use AFIS or CODIS, of course, but those could be done later. And they would take ages to process as well.
"Would you, um, would you mind walking me out?" Cecily asked sheepishly. "I'm kinda new to this whole people shooting at you thing...I'm not sure reading comics about it is the same..."
@Lady Amalthea No worries! :P Take your time. I'm Pokémon hunting shortly.
@Sohtem Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that! Let me know if you need an extension. :) I hope your wrist feels better!
Jaina Sarbye
Location: Roaming the Corridors; The Vindicator
Jaina grinned widely to herself, aware of the shadow she'd gained. Kordath was one of her best friends on the ship, and she tried her best not to squirm in excitement. The last game they'd played, he had her dangle one of the stormtroopers upside down. It honestly looks like loads of fun. Making her way through the corridors, listening for the soft sounds of Kordath following her, Jaina eventually came into a large, open area. A metal bridge connected this side of the ship to the other, the very sort of bridge that perilous lightsaber duels occurred on. Eagerly skipping onto it, Jaina let out a big grin.
"Remember that game we played last time?" Jaina asked, finally acknowledging Kordath's presence. "I bet he got to see all sorts of cool things, upside down...Things no one else got to see, unless they were a bat!"
Sighing wistfully, Jaina grabbed onto the metal bar of the railing. It had been installed as an attempt to improve safety, as well as to encourage people to actually use these bridges without fear of death. Not that any of that bothered dear Jaina, of course. Holding onto the bar tightly, Jaina perched herself on it, wrapping her legs around it tightly. Lifting up her hands, Jaina beamed at Kordath. "Come on, come and play the game with me!"
Letting gravity pull herself downward, Jaina fell forward, her legs hooked around the metal bar the only thing separating her and certain death. Her hair looked almost like a Troll Doll, the way it fell forward with her. Laughing to herself, she waved her hands around, and then comically wrapped them around her throat. "Darth Kordath, stop! You're choking me!" Jaina exclaimed.
She blinked slightly, feeling the blood rush to her head. Waving her arms back and forth to get momentum, Jaina swung herself back up, her feet landing firmly on the bridge. Taking a bit of a bow, she then ran over to Kordath and gave him a firm hug. "Your turn!"
Sutton Corandel
Location: The Main Hold ---> The Bridge; The Raven
"What's the point in traveling the universe if you don't stop to see it, Luke?" Sutton sighed, shaking her head at him. Throwing in an eye roll for good measure, Sutton couldn't help but feel slightly relieved as the Face left the room. One less person for her to deal with for the meantime.
"Does Gol have an estimate on how long this repair will take?" Sutton inquired. She knew that fixing a hyperdrive wasn't always an easy task. She had a fair bit of mechanical knowledge herself. In hindsight, perhaps she should have gone with Luke to win the part, and examine it before he claimed ownership of it. It would've prevented the entire situation before it even started.
However, her question seemed to answer itself. The engine's hum became apparent in her ears, and Sutton grinned widely. Nodding at the Captain and everyone else in the Main Hold, Sutton returned to her place on the Bridge, ready to assist Stehrr and the Captain with whatever task they needed to complete. Taking her usual seat, Sutton quickly double checked that the course was still correctly plotted, and settled in. It was about time for some dashing heroics.
Dorothy Pender
Location: The Cargo Bay ---> Med Bay
Dorothy ceased her fire, seeing most of the miscreants drop to the ground. Blowing slightly on the edge of her gun, enjoying that old cliche, she glanced upwards. Brutus' bullet hadn't come from any of their guns down there--it'd been from on top of the ship. Smirking slightly, it took her a moment to figure Camilla must have climbed on top, acting like a proper sniper. Of course, she wasn't the only one to notice Camilla up there.
"Preacher! Those gorram phrases of yours don't do nothing for her!" Dorothy shouted, resuming her fire. She was running low on bullets in her gun, and she'd need to reload in a moment. It was perhaps the only thing she hated about pistols--she wished reloading wasn't needed. They'd be much more efficient if they just magically reloaded themselves. But alas, that was impossible. Fortunately, it seemed the skirmish ended. Mechanically putting her gun away, Dorothy glanced out at Patience's dead and wounded.
"Hope you boys got yourself a doctor," Dorothy commented, before walking over to the Captain. Examining the injury slowly, Dorothy pulled out the pair of latex gloves from her pocket, snapping them on. She was a bit unorthodox in her selection of black gloves--but she figured that patients would be less freaked out if they didn't see the contrast of blood against white or blue.
"You're in luck, Captain, this wound is nothing," Dorothy encouraged, motioning for Atticus to help her move Anisa. They didn't have the luxury of having a stretcher to push around the ship, and if they did have one, she figured someone would've used it for smuggling somehow. "Let's get her to the med bay, fix her right up."
Grabbing onto Anisa from underneath, Dorothy smiled down at the Captain. She waited for Atticus to get her legs, and once he did so, Dorothy began to walk backwards. It wasn't the first time she'd brought someone back to the Med Bay like this, and it wouldn't be the last. Fortunately, it wasn't too far. Once they were inside, Dorothy set Anisa gently down in the chair, nodding at the Preacher to show her thanks.
"You too?" Dorothy asked slightly, glancing over at Camilla. The wound seemed to be in her shoulder. Muscles were perhaps the best place to be hit with a bullet, but shoulders could tend to be more prone to blood loss. And of course, not to mention the possibility for damage to nerves, bones, and vascular systems. Heading over to Camilla, Dorothy crouched down, examining her wound with a fresh pair of gloves.
Whichever of the pair seemed to be in the rougher shape, she'd treat first. Had she not cared about bedside manner, she would have asked which one felt closer to death. "I need to determine who to treat first--could you two rate your pain for me, on a scale of one to ten? Nothing seems to be all too serious, so do try to relax a bit if you can..."
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