Morose

Children of Arkham Asylum

@BlueSky44: On day 19... :P

Abandoned Hope - Concluded

@Lady Amalthea *gags eternally*

A New Dawn - A Star Wars RP

Jaina wouldn't hurt a fly ;)

Now the best part is her necklace has a tracking device on it, which could be...interesting for the Raven~

Abandoned Hope - Concluded

@BlueSky44: On day 5. :P

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Morose New character is still coming in, just waiting until the set up is right for introductions.

@Lady Amalthea

Ooooh :D

You're killing me with antici.....

...pation

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Jack Hudson

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Location: Building 7 (Rec Center)

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Jack's eyes nearly popped out of his head at Meg's suggestion. Him? Perform? Sure, he did goofy little things to make Tatiana smile, but he figured him performing would be like someone's dad doing standup at the graduation party. No one really wanted to see that, and hardly anyone could handle that without cringing enough to pinch a nerve. His form of entertainment was bad enough to make the Joker look SNL worthy, at the very least.

"I uh...I dunno if I'd be the best 'lovely assistant'" Jack replied, almost apologetically, to Meg. Dancing and doing parlor tricks hadn't been in the requirements for the police academy, and he spent most of his time helping out his mom growing up. The little he knew about performing was from watching her give tours around Boston, always in character.

He grinned a bit, hearing Bazhooli compliment Tatiana's work. Her dance really was something else. It was almost the most beautiful thing he had ever seen (the most beautiful, of course, was Tatiana herself). The backdrop of the apocalypse only made her dance that more powerful and enchanting. He couldn't help but think quietly that if Tatiana did assist Bazhooli, she would steal the show.

"Parents must have hated you if that's yah name," Jack chuckled a bit. Of course, he knew the man's name wasn't Guy-Who-Carries-My-Stuff, but he couldn't resist the opportunity. Hopefully, he brought enough plates over for everyone, but if not, he could always double back to fetch some more.

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Édouard Riviere

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Location: Following Lyon

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Édouard scoffed slightly. He wasn't religious in the slightest. There was no reason for him to kneel and pray. The Rivieres hadn't been religious in a century--the last time they went to the Catholic church, they still included the accent in their name, going by Rivière. His ancestor, Dorian, had seen to all of that. Of course, that was the only aspect of his ancestor's history that Édouard cared for. Dorian had been more British than French at heart, deserting his country and insisting that l'Unione Corse conducted meetings in English.

Édouard tended to selectively forget that tidbit.

"Waah....Kers....?" Édouard sounded out, squinting slightly. "Comment dit-on....Ah, oui. Les morts vivants!" He chuckled slightly, proud at himself for figuring out the word. Félix and he had never switched over to the shorter abbreviation for them. Les marcheurs was a term he hardly ever used. As soon as he finished congratulating himself for understanding the phrase, he recalled the rest of what Lyon said. He would have to do more work. He shuddered slightly, feeling incredibly exhausted after his moping around in the infirmary, and then cleaning the blood and gore. Truthfully, his whining had been more effort than the actual cleaning.

He flinched as Lyon hit him on the back, stumbling forward slightly towards the old man. Closing his eyes, Édouard counted to ten, a technique he recalled his sister, Alisanne, being forced to learn when they were small. She always had issues with anger. At the mention of Sana, a perplexed look came over his face, but his blush betrayed him, underneath the blood and gore on his face.

And then, to make matters worse, a shovel was shoved in his face. He grasped it, fantasizing for a moment turning around, and beating Lyon and the geezer to death with it. The blood would make a bit of a mess, but someone else would come around to clean it up. Lyon probably had beaten everyone in Franklin until they grew to love cleaning and having fucked up haircuts. He closed his eyes, counting to ten once again in his mind, first in French, and then in Italian. He still couldn't quite manage it in English.

He straightened up, prepared to give some sort of scathing remark to Lyon, but in truthful, all of his fussing and whining was becoming tiring. He wasn't sure how much longer he could defy Lyon on principle, and he had questions still to be answered. Lyon, clearly, wasn't telling him the truth. Sana would likely explain why he was pretending to be a Mr. Moseby. Perhaps all of Franklin was held hostage by him, and Édouard could become a hero by saving them from the tyrant.

Still, he wrinkled his nose at the old man. He smelled of death to him, which was saying a lot, as they set Édouard at the task of building graves. Humming a rather explicit French song to himself, Édouard got to work, showing surprising strength as he started to make some graves.

Translations

Comment dit-on....Ah, oui. Les morts vivants! = How does one say....Ah, yes. The living dead!
Les marcheurs = Walkers

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway

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Location: Riley's Apartment

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Tuesday rolled her eyes. Even ages later, they still all thought of her as having runaway. It was so ridiculous, and every time anyone mentioned it, she wanted to barf. It wasn't like Riley was her mother. She wasn't anyone's child, her parents had seen to that. And on top of that, she was a legal fucking adult. Part of her was tempted to stick her tongue out at Marc, but she quickly realized that would have been slightly self defeating.

"Death just likes to fuck us in the ass without asking permission," Tuesday grumbled. She perked up slightly at Ronnie's offer, nodding almost a bit too eagerly. Anything to get out of the house, and if she was lucky, she might even be able to score something herself at Club AfterDark. It was her favorite club in Justice, mostly because the ladies were always smoking hot, and the law was a complete afterthought. As much as her old friends and family tried to insist her place was among the respectable citizens in society, Tuesday rebelled against it.

She belonged with the dregs, with the shit. At least they were real. No one faked anything in the gutter, except for perhaps a credit score or sobriety. "Nice seeing you Rye, stay safe. And Marc, don't bust anyone I know." She winked slightly, before following Ronnie out the door.

Once out of the suffocating environment of Riley's apartment, Tuesday let out a deep breath. It was awful enough having to face her sister, but with Marc and his German boy scout, it had been insufferable. There were enough judgmental glares to fill a church, Tuesday thought to herself with a snort. "So, what're we dropping? I can sample it, y'know, to do quality control. Very important, quality control. Shows you care and shit about the product."

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Cecily Ashworth

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Location: Near Queensguard Private Airfield

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Caesar didn't answer her query, but that was just fine by Cecily. If there was an issue, she trusted the elder man to point it out to her. Instead, he raised his hand, recording the approaching plane and the motorcade. It seemed a bit excessive to her, but her main experience with motorcades were for witnesses and clients involved in one of her parents' court cases. Whoever was on that plane, they had to be extremely important--and someone had to want them dead.

As Caesar zoomed in on the image, Cecily had already spotted the water at the north end of the perimeter. Everything seemed to be coming together. This was where Alicia had been murdered. There would be a personnel listing somewhere, a photo of Prosperpine. She reached into the kit she had brought with her, grabbing a few bindles, as well as some tubes and swabs. "I'll go get the evidence we need," Cecily said quietly, letting Caesar continue filming. Holding her supplies, she walked to the small reservoir, keeping her head down.

Once she reached the water, Cecily crouched down, collecting fluid samples in the tubes, latex gloves on her hands. Anything that looked to be pertinent in the slightest bit, she bagged and tagged. If she saw any bugs, she bagged those as well. Forensic entomology wasn't her speciality, but she wasn't prepared to rule it out just yet as a potential source. If Alicia had been drowned here, there would be trace evidence left behind.

As soon as she finished with her sample collection, Cecily glanced behind her, hoping to see Roy's familiar face. She trusted Caesar, but not as much as she trusted Roy. Perhaps her loyalty was based on a series of coincidences, but it didn't change anything to her. She walked back to Caesar, sliding the evidence samples into her larger bag, putting away her equipment. "The evidence will be less dilute closer to the source," Cecily explained, eyeing the compound. "It's likely a suicide mission... but the results will be more definitive if we get inside."

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

I'll get a post up in the morning. Tuesday's is already written, will do Cecily's bit when I wake up. Having an image of her climbing through the sewers now though :P

🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

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Dorothy Pender

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Location: Shuttle ---> the Med Bay

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Dorothy snorted slightly at Gideon's explanation. It reminded her of some old texts on treating mental illness--practices that disgusted Dorothy. At the end of the day, they were yi dwei da buen chuo roh. During her time working at the military hospital, after the war, she had seen some practitioners attempt to use them to treat the soldiers. But of course, this was Gideon. This wasn't the Alliance military hospital. She closed her eyes for a moment, rolling her shoulders back, as she had once again stiffened them.

"Yes, my sister," Dorothy replied, giving Gideon a bit of a confused look. "Does someone else on the crew have a sister on board that I haven't heard of? I suppose Jackson could be Anisa's sister...but I always assumed he was a he." She chuckled slightly, but her laugh stopped at Gideon's next comment. On one hand, she was glad to finally know that he wasn't chasing after her sister.

But crushing on the Captain? Dorothy wasn't always the most observant when it came to affairs of the heart, and she rolled her eyes slightly. That boy was going to get himself killed. It made sense, however. Perhaps that was why Gideon got Anisa to scream at him all of the time. The entire day had been insane. Collecting her thoughts, Dorothy excited the shuttle and made her way back to her home-base, so to speak. There was a slight mess still to be cleaned up, and Dorothy busied herself, ignoring the curious lack of screaming from Anisa. She loved her Captain, but even Dorothy wouldn't pretend that Anisa wouldn't scream if something pissed her off.

Josephine's stunt, Dorothy figured, was enough to get Anisa's voice loud and shrill.

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Nora Kingston

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Location: Egyptian Museum

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Nora nodded as the Lady Munn thanked her. It was no trouble for her, and she would have felt ashamed if she didn't help the Egyptologist out. While her sisters had accepted the notion that the idle rich should never lift a finger, the same could not be said for Nora. It was perhaps the only thing she had in common with her dreadful sister-in-law, an American of no standing. She was a experimental writer, Miss Frances Tate--now Mrs. Frances Kingston--and her efforts had come to largely nothing. As Nora's brother had explained to her, a woman by the name of Woolf overshadowed Fannie's works.

Nora didn't have any sympathy for that. To write fantasy was a poor decision in her opinion. Reality was all that mattered, and in that vein, she found herself appreciating the Lady Munn's comment about preferring facts to gossip. Still, her sister-in-law's lack of notoriety in literature hardly endeared her to Nora. It was almost worse that Fannie struggled with her craft. And as for Nora's own enjoyment of Penny Dreadfuls...She knew very well how hypocritical her guilty pleasure was.

However, Nora's ear perked up at the odd turn of phrase the Lady Munn selected. Ton. It reminded her of the Egyptologist's brief lapse from earlier, and she debated with herself as to whether or not it was just an odd accent, or another language entirely. But to save the Lady Munn any anguish, Nora refrained from jotting down the phrase in her journal, but she committed it to memory instead. Later, once she had privacy, she would record the odd phrases and sayings.

At the talk of necklaces and rings, Nora let her eyes sweep over the group. She spotted a few pocket watches, as well as numerous pairs of earrings. However, it was then that she spotted what hinted at the beginnings of a pattern. Certain the answer could be no more difficult than a Taylor series, Nora opened up her journal again, recording in shorthand each person present, and what pieces of jewelry they donned. For the men present, only Mr. Walsh wore a ring, made of silver. And for the ladies, the Lady Munn, Miss Tarek, and Miss Ridgeway all had necklaces. Lauren broke the pattern. She glanced once more at the necklaces, before noticing the gold of Lady Munn's and Miss Tarek's, while Lauren's was a cheap seeming silver. Though, she supposed Aziza's necklace could have been made of bronze.

Unlike her mother, Nora did not spend quite enough time to identify the materials of a necklace with a simple glance.

But there was little to substantiate her theory. It was merely a guess, and to test it, she would need to persuade Lauren to wear a golden necklace, rather than the silver charm she had donned that day. Her attention was summoned by the journalist and the starlet swooning over the fortune they would make over the story, once they released it to the public. Nora could only imagine that if the story was released, her family would follow through on their warnings, and remove any shred of independence Nora enjoyed. The news that she had went in the company of strangers to a cult site in the desert would hardly endear her to them. They had hardly been pleased with her certificate in mathematics--a cult, by comparison, would be akin to worshipping the Prince of Darkness or committing treason against the Crown.

But on an entirely new note, Nora came to understand more the Lady Munn's standing. Some of the idle rich had wasted their fortune, forcing the nobility to search employment. It became more and more apparent to Nora that the Lady Munn worked for pleasure, rather than out of need to retain her social standing and certain comforts. The ability to finance an entire expedition was a testimony to that, and at the Lady Munn's mention of political arrangements, Nora could not help but be in awe of this woman. By some miracle, it seemed that the Lady Munn had escaped the clutches of society, in a manner altogether different and yet similar to Nora's own.

She was most certainly someone that Nora would enjoy sitting down to have tea with.