Morose

Abandoned Hope - Concluded

@Witch Cat Up to you. :)

@Pundii: Day 5

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Lady Amalthea Tryke's going to swoon at this rate. Whether for Marx or Bridgette I don't know. Probably both. :P

Abandoned Hope - Concluded

@Witch Cat I think Amy and Liam are the last ones standing from "the original cast." Tempted to give whichever one outlives the other a prize xD

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway

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Location: Club AfterDark

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Almost on cue, her stomach grumbled. Ronnie always blamed his hunger on the munchies, but from what Tuesday could tell, he was like any teenage boy on the street--never able to stop eating. She followed his wave with her eyes, taking in the tall and muscular bartender. With guns like that, he had to be doing more than serving drinks around the place. Returning her gaze to Ronnie, Tuesday frowned for a moment, mentally recalling the menu there.

"Cheeseburger and onion rings?" Tuesday asked. She was a thin girl, but she held the majority of her weight as muscle. Her hobby, biking, and her martial arts knowledge helped to keep her figure slim. A few cheeseburgers wasn't going to ruin her form, as far as she was concerned. "The greasier the cheeseburger they can make, the better. Want me to pay you back in cash?" She smiled at him, as he left to grab the food.

Tuesday then felt the vibration of the incoming text, but she didn't bother to read it yet. She had sent it on a whim--later that evening, if her mood held, she'd reply and start actively thinking about it. Instead, Tuesday pocketed her phone, and portioned off a small section of her hair, braiding it absentmindedly. Glancing up at Ronnie as he returned, Tuesday chuckled slightly. She knew that look. "Think I'd look good with a half shaven head?"

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Cecily Ashworth

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Location: Queensguard Private Airfield

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The sounds of impending gunfire stopped, and for a moment, Cecily felt a tinge of relief. They were in the calm of the storm--she knew that it wouldn't last too long. Her mind fluttered back to the Sherlock narrative. Blood loss wasn't the only factor Molly Hooper cited, in her explanation of what would kill Sherlock.

You’re going into shock. It’s the next thing that’s going to kill you.

Staring down at her trembling hands, Cecily confirmed that was the case. She responded to Caesar without much protest, knowing that any security cameras had picked them up, and facial recognition wouldn't be too hard. There was little point in covering up the tattoo. Removing the bandana from her wrist, she pressed it up against her wound with trembling hands, tightening her grip as to avoid shaking.

What did Molly tell Sherlock about the shock? What was that next bit of information? It was ironic, but fitting, Cecily realized, that her life might be in the hands of advice from a British television program. As a forensic technician, she worked with analyzing the dead--not preserving the living. She had no medical knowledge with which to treat herself. But Caesar, with all of his numerous scars, had to have been shot before--he'd know what to do. Roy had said to stay with him. If they were lucky, they'd get out of there alive.

And if not, they'd...Mycroft! Molly didn't have the next line, Cecily realized, mouthing the words to herself. Don’t go into shock, obviously. That had been the advice. Calm, they needed her to calm down. Her therapist had always told her to let herself curl up into a ball and cry, watch some Netflix if she needed to, and reach out to a friend. There wasn't time for that. How to stay calm, how to stay calm?

Cecily jumped slightly as she heard the shot go off. Dashing back over to Caesar, her previous mental complaints about running gone, she was relieved when she saw the bullet impaled itself in the door. Just like how Prosperine's bullet had done--of course, the locations were different, and this one was aimed at the lock...But it was uncanny nonetheless, in Cecily's opinion. She nodded at his comments. Her people? She had a bit of a sad smile at that. Her parents had never quite been proud of her. They favored her younger brother, paying for him to attend boarding school, and leaving Cecily to be dragged all around the country, moving on occasion multiple times in a year.

With the pressure she kept on her wound, her aim would be worse than usual, with the small pistol in her hand. She figured she'd have a better chance of hitting them by accident, rather than on purpose. "You want to use this instead?" Cecily asked, her voice cracking slightly. The shock continued to keep her up, but she knew that hydrostatic shock could kill her just as well, and immobilize her. She had to stay calm, even if it meant feeling the pain of a gun injury.

Breathing deeply, she increased the pressure she kept on her wound slightly. She let her mind run through more Sherlock scenes, some of them in order, some out. Anything to keep her calm and focused. She listened to Caesar's instructions, and while it wasn't her place, she couldn't help but add: "And get a spectroscopy expert to analyze any fluids by methods of standard additions to isolate the trace amounts." She glanced over at Caesar, hoping that was okay. Some forensic technicians were great--but not all.

If she was going to be murdered, she didn't want to be another cold case if she could help it.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

I'll get a post up shortly :)

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

Yeah, waiting on Sigil to hopefully get us out alive :P

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Location: Crypt Townhouse Near the Strand, London

House and Description

The Crypts purchased the house ages ago, as their dear friend's practice was nearby. He was an undertaker. Does that surprise you? It shouldn't. Alfred manages the household affairs, as the townhouse was originally used for attending events of the season, as well as to be present for public executions. Virginia takes a professional interest in them. That should hardly surprise you either.

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Alfred paused for a moment, only to have the silence broken by the tinkling of the manor bell. Virginia held up a single gloved finger, continuing the silence as she listened intently. It was peculiar for several callers to come upon the Crypts so early in the morn. Investors were to be expected. But pray, who else happened to grace their doorstep on this peculiar March day?

Virginia smiled softly to herself, finishing her cup of tea before making any motion to attend to the caller. "Alfred, wouldst you attend to that, as I speak to the investors? The young viscount has earned himself an extension on his inquisition." She set the cup back down on the platter, and Alfred bowed his head slightly, attending to the affair at the door.

Lady Virginia Crypt, her feet still bare against the floor of the manor, moved into the drawing room. Some chose to entertain their guests in the parlor, but James was often fond of leaving his playthings in the room. Virginia found them to disturb the occasional visitor, and as Alfred oft reminded her, that was not, by any means, the intended goal.

"Gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Virginia said softly, her hand delicately on the handle of one axe, as a smile graced her porcelain features. "I understand you are lacking in funds." Her toes curled slightly, and the gentlemen's eyes darted downwards, their faces revealing shock and surprise.

"We were under the impression we would be meeting with Lord Dywell..." the first man, with an irritatingly chubby face, explained. "Is the gentleman of the house present?"

"Lord Dywell is away, and as of such, I am acting in his place," Virginia explained, her smile vanishing. "Now, speak presently and quickly. I have no time for those caught in the conventions of sex and class." Her toes uncurled, and the gentlemen noticed her hand clasped on the axe, and Virginia smiled at them once more. The trio turned as white as a sheet, before embarking on a frantic explanation of the monetary needs to continue their scientific inquiries, and Virginia nodded her head.

"I shall send word later with the funds, if I determine to continue this investment. Alfred shall see you out." She motioned at them slightly with her gloved hand, rising from her chair as the three practically fled the mansion, Alfred shutting the door on them. She shook her head sadly. Their research had been most illuminating and delightful, yet she could not condone the disrespect.

"Perhaps we should send them a severed limb," Virginia mused. "Could a tongue be procured to send to those gentlemen, dear Alfred?"

The butler chuckled slightly, before bowing his head a tad before changing the course of the conversation. In his brisk and blunt manner, Alfred informed Virginia that Almack's is requesting her presence at an earlier hour, in order to ensure the lack of soulless within the city. It was a slightly preposterous notion. Her mind could only glimpse up to fifty miles from where she lies--she had not studied in divining the future. The invitation to the event was distasteful to her as well, given her dislike of the Season and the parties it entailed.

But she supposed, after the recent massacre, Almack's was simply attempting to perform at their best. It was true--she could glide with her mind, practically, around the city to look for the soulless. Perhaps if she performed this favor for them, she would be freed of any obligation to participate in the dull festivities. Glancing up towards her butler, Virginia was much aware of Alfred's opinion.

"Very well. Do call for a carriage. Whilst I am gone, James should attend to his fencing lessons," Virginia instructed, and Alfred nodded. Alfred had been teaching the young boy in the ways of the sword, as Lord Dywell was to have done before the disastrous voyage. Virginia did not smile, but Alfred, sensing her need, handed the noblewoman her shoes. She always had a tendency to leave her feet bare to the cool ground of the manor.

"Thank you, Alfred. I shan't be gone long."

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

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Dorothy Pender

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Location: Dining Room

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The news seemed to get worse and worse with every minute that passed. Dorothy felt as if they were trapped in the golden hour for nerve damager, racing against the clock to save the patient--only this wasn't nerve damage. This was life and death. And even if they lived, they'd have to escape the Alliance, and Dorothy knew all too well what they did to deserters. She'd be lucky to be shot--and her sister? What about Daphne?

For the briefest of moments, Dorothy wished she was in the safety of the military hospital, away from the battle fields and the politics. But cowardice wasn't the answer. She had joined the rebellion because of the horrid crimes committed by the Alliance--now wasn't the time to back down. She wasn't going to be the sunshine patriot or the summer soldier.

As Atticus crossed himself, Dorothy grimaced slightly. It wasn't her usual eye roll of derision--no, it was the knowledge that she wasn't alone in her thoughts. It was one thing if she thought it was a suicide mission--but if everyone agreed, then it made it all the more real and damning. Her sidearm was holstered to her leg like always, just a moment away from being drawn. Her Captain asked her to be armed and ready--and so, she was. She removed the weapon from its holster and held it in her hands.

"How W’rin Bu Lai, Whai W’rin Bu Jwo," Dorothy said under her breath, not loud enough for anyone else to hear. This was the time that would try their souls--and gorrham it, she was going to make sure her baby sister got out of here alive even if it was the last thing she ever did.

🦄 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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Had Nora not grown up in a fiercely strict and respectable British household, she perhaps would have been unable to keep her composure. As the Lady Munn gave Mr. Drake a piece of her mind, scolding the man with an intensity Nora had never seen a young woman possess before, it was a most amusing sight to behold. Nothing like it would have occurred back in England, not with the watchful and judgmental eyes of the peers. It was perhaps either a compliment or an insult that the pair of them showed such lack of social restrain while in Nora's presence--she hoped for the former.

Nodding at Lady Munn as the Countess once again praised Nora's skills, despite never having seen them at work, Nora followed the pair with her eyes as they stepped into the hallway. She raised a slight eyebrow, unable to hear or see what words might pass between the pair. It was her opinion that the Lady Munn was not entirely done laying into Mr. Drake. If her words were a lash, the man was likely to bleed to death from this treatment.

But it was not her place to pry. She returned to her notes and her work, annotating the few pieces the Lady Munn had provided to her in her journal. It sometimes helped her to discover a pattern if written in her own hand. And once transcribed, her meager skills in cryptography or decipherment would be put to a most noble use. Undoubtedly the extra information from the Lady Munn would prove most useful--but any information she may glean from the preliminary sample would prove just as apt.

Abandoned Hope - Concluded

@Lady Amalthea @Witch Cat: You're both on day 5, but I don't expect any posts out of you two today. :P Understood? Have fun with your families. The devil can wait.