@Remipa Awesome Sounds good, let me know if you need anything
@Pundii: Day 7
@BlueSky44:Day 8, with extension
@Pundii: Day 7
@BlueSky44:Day 8, with extension
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Location: the Wyndham Estate
Virginia nodded. Most found it curious that despite training in the colonies, Virginia never learned the skill of the presence guard. But it was not quite so strange. Virginia's fascination resided with the mind--and so, her skills were partnered along with that. Her training in throwing axes was the only true skill she cared for beyond various forms of astral projection. However, a name did come to mind that might be called upon to inspect the presence guards at the Wyndham Estate.
"I shall send word to Miss Crane," Virginia replied. "She is quite skilled with the maintenance of presence guards."
However, there was no need for Virginia to send a messenger to her semi-American friend. As her dear friend Milli pointed out, Mosi and a stranger were dashing away from Hyde Park. The surname was certainly a most peculiar one--Sir Kildragon. Yet there was little time for Virginia to make inquiries with Millicent as to the unknown individual, as the pesky voice of Mrs. Wyndham bellowed out from the halls of the manor.
"Attend to your mother, I shall speak with Miss Crane and Sir Kildragon," Virginia replied, smiling softly at Millicent. Her smile dropped as her friend vanished into the confines of the manor. Her friend's mother doubtlessly had some sort of domestic horrors that Millicent needed to attend to. Virginia then turned, greeting Mosi and Sir Kildragon as they approached.
"I had the most horrid of nightmares recently," Virginia stated wistfully, in reply to Mosi's inquiry as to her health. "As expected, I am thus quite well. I hope that you are the same, though I do not doubt misery and sorrow's cloaks would prove most becoming on you, dear Mosi." Her eyes were drawn slightly to the traveling companion of Miss Crane, but Virginia's expression did not change from her usual, distant gloom inspired curiosity.
"A cargast in London?" Virginia repeated, her eyebrows ever so slightly raised. There had not been an incident in quite some time. Combined with the night terror she had experienced, Virginia felt concern creep up on her, like a second skin sliding into place. The barricade appeared to have lost its effect. Something was in motion, she was quite certain of it. "How peculiar an occurrence. A Pentatone Box will need to be procured, and if the church is unable to fashion someone with suitable skills, please do come to fetch me. You do know how I adore to project my mind, and with my dear friend ensuring my fragile body comes to no significant peril, it should be a decidedly pleasant and simple task."
Nora Kingston
Location: Egyptian Museum
Nora felt like she was tugging away at a string. The more she pulled, the more gigantic the knot became that she was attempting to untangle. The thread went through twists and turns, the intricacies compounding, even despite the slight clue behind it all--phi. Mathematics, and by extension cryptography, was logical at its core. But even armed with her wit and cleverness, Nora found herself no closer to the truth.
She'd need Lady Munn's assistance, that much was certain. The Egyptian web puzzled her, and had it been in English, she couldn't help but imagine it would have been less of a challenge. Even the rubbing itself had missing pieces to it, causing the puzzle to become only the more impossible to unravel. It was one thing to have a complete mystery--but a mystery with pieces missing? It only served to increase the difficulty.
Having gone as far as Nora felt she could adequately without the aid of the Lady Munn, she set her pen down on her paper, and closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to breathe. In the next moment, she glanced down at her newfound branding, examining the strange symbol, the very one that appeared in her dream. She could not fathom an explanation that relied on the principles of logic. Perhaps it would not serve her well to be dismissive of fantasy for much longer.
@BlueSky44: On day 7, note that you have an extension for RL circumstances
@Witch Cat @Pundii: Day 6
@Witch Cat @Pundii: Day 6
Tryke Lockley
Location: On Her Motorcycle, on the Walker Infested Route to Newnan
Well shit.
No matter what Tryke did, the hoard of walkers seemed to be just as strong. She swung her bat around, driving her motorcycle at the same time, and yet her deadly multitasking hardly seemed to have any effect. The blonde girl in the truck--the non Viking one--managed to pick off a few with her gun, but even that hardly helped. They needed to do something quickly, or they'd be overrun. The injured would have no chance.
And so, Tryke was faced with a dilemma. She grimaced, whacking another walker with her bat, as she slung the weapon over her shoulders again. Reaching behind into her bag, Tryke contorted her hand slightly, before she was able to grab the makeshift flamethrower from the mesh water bottle pouch on the side. They needed to make a decent break in the walkers, and she wasn't certain how much this would help...She found it was the most effective with the winning--no one liked being set on fire.
"I'll light these fuckers up, you guys try to break through!" Tryke called out. Holding out the homemade flamethrower in one hand, Tryke pressed down on the aerosol spray, causing the spray to come out and the lighter to ignite, creating a column of flame. She aimed at as many walkers as she could, all the while trying to keep a safe distance, if at all possible.
She really didn't want to continue the trend of people getting bitten on this trip.
Édouard Riviere
Location: the Infirmary ---> Cowering Behind a Car Door (Franklin)
Taking the scissors and comb from Sana, Édouard couldn't help but fantasize that they had raided a beauty parlor in Franklin. There were so many beauty lines in the United States, one of his favorite features. A bit of product and his hair would be right as rain, that he was certain. If there were any supermodels left in the world, well, Édouard felt that he'd be qualified to stand among them. Maybe he'd ask Sana if Franklin had any beauty pageants.
"Sana?" Édouard called out, frowning as he heard a scream. Perhaps they'd run out of haircare products? Following her into the hall, his eyes widened as she had a bolt ready in her crossbow. Was she trying to kill him? He shook his head slightly, before obeying her as she commanded him to stay behind her. He rushed outside of the school with her, armed with scissors and a comb, as they entered the hellscape that once was relative safety.
"Qu'est-ce qui passe?" Édouard called out, following Sana as she dove behind a car. However, his answer was cut off as someone sank a knife into Sana's leg. The screaming and gunfire was all background noise, and Édouard instinctively reached for a sword--but Lyon had confiscated them all. He only had a comb and a pair of scissors to fight with.
And then, an even more peculiar thing happened. As Sana kicked around at her attacker from under the car, her crossbow abandoned, Édouard dropped to the ground, snatched up Sana's crossbow, and aimed it underneath the car. And then, figuring that it couldn't be that hard, he pulled the trigger, hoping that he'd done it correctly. He'd never used a crossbow before. But how hard could it be? "Olé!"
Jack Hudson
Location: Gilbert Street, in front of Building 1 ---> Lagrange Street, in front of Building 6
While Meghna motioned for someone else to arm him with a gun, he knew that Ashton was in charge, at the end of the day. If he said Jack should head to the armory, then he'd do just that. It was no different than if he had been given an order by the captain, back during his career as a cop. Chain of command had to exist for work to get done. And having been in Newnan for less than a day, he wasn't about to stick his neck out and break it.
"Thank you, sih," Jack replied. He grinned a bit at Bazhooli, seeing that his best man was joining them on the adventure. Having a familiar face was always a comfort, but he did feel slightly more worried for Tatiana. He didn't want her to be all alone in the rec center, but if he didn't do this, then perhaps the safety of Newnan would vanish.
Nodding at his best man, Jack headed over to the armory, excited to (hopefully) get his gun back. Having it on him had become second nature since joining the force, and with the apocalypse, it was as needed as food, water, and clean air. Not having it with him for the past few hours had been unnerving. "Any idea what's going on?" Jack asked his traveling companion, only faltering when the explosion shook the foundations of the city. His eyes widened as he glanced around quickly, before noticing the destruction centered on the armory.
He grimaced a bit, looking over at Bazhooli. This didn't bode well.
Cecily Ashworth
Location: Alicia's Secret Hideout; Queensguard Private Airfield
Cecily followed Caesar's instructions, grimacing slightly at the thought of Caesar pulling a bullet out of her. She knew it'd have to be done essentially, but she slowly became more and more convinced that he'd try to use a machete or something to do it. Best bet was to wait for Natasha--assuming the doctor was still alive. Cecily had been acting coroner for all of a minute, she felt, and attempts on her life had already begun. How long would they wait for Natasha?
"Unless these come with an operation manual, I think I'm good..." Cecily explained, looking at the various weapons in the room. She hadn't fired a single bullet from her gun. And with her minimal training in shooting, she doubted she'd manage to hit anyone. As Alicia's video began to play, Cecily kept a respectful distance, but she listened carefully.
We're so fucked, Cecily thought to herself, before correcting her thoughts. Caesar was trained for this type of thing--for a cult of powerful women, hellbent on murder and destruction. I'm so fucked. She bit her lip, ready to leave Alicia's hideout whenever Caesar was, when a thought occurred to her. Proserpine had murdered this woman. Proserpine was a deadly assassin, Cecily figured, and she had killed Alicia Gonzalez.
How the hell had she survived, instead of Alicia? Her mind flickered back to the traumatic day in the coroner's office, where the bullet whizzed by and hit the doorframe. If Juno only recruited the best, then there was no reason for Proserpine to miss. Cecily couldn't help but be perplexed by the fact she was still breathing. There was no reason for her to be alive--unless perhaps they wanted her to be? Biting down on her lip even harder, she couldn't help but feel dirty and used. That was one explanation for why she had been named coroner--and why Proserpine hadn't killed her.
Somehow, perhaps they were using her? It didn't make any sense. Alicia, even in death, would probably last longer than she ever could hope for in a fight. And Iris' card? Were they trying to recruit her third cousin? She could understand why they'd want Iris, perhaps.
"I'm ready when you are," Cecily said quietly, but her thoughts continued to trouble her.
Why am I still alive?
Iris Kingston
Location: Arkham Asylum Justice Asylum For The Criminally Insane: the Ludwig Building
The more Iris interacted with Cynthia, the more she appeared to be a hard case. It was perhaps a first in her (admittedly) short psychological career: she wished she had read the file beforehand. Reconsidering briefly having agreed to see Cynthia straight away, Iris smiled as the girl recounted an old rhyme. It was morbid, but it wasn't entirely new for childhood rhymes. One about plague, and then this one about burial of the living.
Valentine appeared to have plenty of questions, but Iris wasn't sure whether discussing death was the correct approach with this patient. There was some sort of underlying trauma, now associated with the holiday. Iris had seen women scarred for life before--Cynthia resonated with them in her mind. "Yes, I quite enjoy the holiday," Iris replied. "I've always spent it with some mates."
However, Valentine's description of the holiday didn't quite match up with the traditional symbols. Love, sweethearts, roses, chocolate, swans--but red pictures? Combined with the girl's talk of death, Iris couldn't help but guess towards the worst. Someone had made a distinct impression on the girl, Iris suspected. The identity disorder was likely pre-existing...but why the fixation of Valentine's day?
"Could you tell me about your friends, Cynthia?" Iris asked.
Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway
Location: Club AfterDark
Tuesday rolled her eyes. She figured that most of her brain cells had been killed by one drug or another at this point. Medical school wasn't going to be easy at all. She'd be lucky to make it through it, assuming she could even manage to complete rehab. "We've got the same amount of brain, you dork. Just depends how much we've smoked away at this point in our lives," she joked.
Frowning a bit, Tuesday did feel slightly nervous with all the yelling in the kitchen. Yelling in Justice tended to lead to fights. And fights, about half of the time, led to the cops. Cops? Not her cup of tea. Avoiding them like hell tended to be her usual rules of operation, with the exception of Marc. She'd need to contact him later that evening. "Yeah, let's bounce. We good to go take care of business?" Tuesday asked. Maybe a run would get her head out of this funk. At any rate, the club wasn't helping. And Ronnie would be hungry even if he did manage to get his food.
@Lady Amalthea I guess I take after my mother lol
@Lady Amalthea Crap. Will fix!
Dorothy Pender
Location: Dining Room ---> Medical Bay
Her hands were itching for a fight, whether it be against a foe or against the hand of death. A former army doctor, Dorothy understood that her greatest asset to the Vengeance was her medical knowledge. If something were to happen to her, Genevieve would insist that she could fill in, and the crew would bleed to death within minutes. However, it didn't make her feel any better. Grimacing, Dorothy wanted to be given a task to perform, rather than standing at the ready.
As if it would somehow help, Dorothy readjusted the grip on her gun. Anisa's instructions went over the inner com, and her ears perked up, listening for her name. Nothing. Her eyes darted around the room for a moment, watching as Camilla and Atticus dashed off, heading on some mission for Anisa. There was no reason for her to be standing in the dining room, and figuring that standing armed in the medical bay would suffice just as well, Dorothy left the room.
By the time she arrived in her own domain, Dorothy felt slightly more at ease, but still just as isolated from making any true impact on their survival chances. The thought that her baby sister was in peril, and all she could do was stand ready for needles and gauze, brought her no comfort at all. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself and center herself. Once the fighting started, people would start going down. And her work would begin.
She just had to wait and hope she wasn't needed.
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