psych0pomp

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment

I mean there’s a certain hardship in remembering to tip. Or that not everyone was able to go to Coachella. It feels bad when you remember everyone else is poor.

@Fading Memory

"I don't know why you don't have enough money to go to France. Uh. Ask your dad."

"We're lower middle class, Ambrose."

"Look, you're traveling with me. I'll get you bumped up to first on the plane. Don't worry about it."

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment

I was just making a joke. This is why I need to emoji everything. Eevverrrryytthiinnng.

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment

Cheeseman and I aren't popular. That's a bummer.

What. You guys don't like someone that has never known hardship in their life?

See you space samurai... A Space Opera

I endeavor to be the best space lawyer and crew face you have ever seen. I take this job with the utmost seriousness and complete sincerity.

See you space samurai... A Space Opera

Sawyer the Space Lawyer

❝ 𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙳𝙴𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙻𝚂! ❞

^{NAME: Sohsa'no'wyaer "Sawyer" Halycon-Sub-Prime, 24th in line for High Emperor
AGE: 34
GENDER: Mono-Gendered (looks like a human male) (they/him)
SPECIES: Arkopolis}

❝ 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄? ❞

<sup>"I'm sorry, did I not give you my business card? Have you not seen my billboards? I get it, you come from one of those backwater planets. Well, let me just introduce myself, I'm Sawyer the Space Lawyer. The only legal representation you need in the galaxy. No. Seriously. Don't get anyone else."

For an Arkopolis, Sawyer rarely wears their mask. They are a species of fully clothed aliens, from the top of their shiny masks to the bottom of their intricately booted feet. It is to help distinguish what caste they belong to. Castes are decided first upon birth and then secondly by one's ability to be charismatic. The game of social parlay is quite deadly for an Arkopolis, hence the masks. They hide their features and even alter their inflection if they can get away with it. Ambassadors, traders, weapon brokers, space bards, and so on--if it involves the gift of gab then they have the market cornered. They are ruled by a High Emperor, which Sawyer is 25th in line for. Well, 24th, as someone down in the line died from a nasty case of being poisoned by a political rival.

In social situations, Sawyer does wear a mask. Black with a fluorescent purple light that bisects the middle of it. On the top are two holes that their deep purple horns push out of, curling forward like a ram but straightening out at the metal-capped tips. Without the mask they have purple skin, an almost atrocious amount of golden jewelry, short but perfectly coiffed dark purple hair, pointed ears, and the aforementioned horns--they were not decorative. They also have liquid gold eyes and a fanged smile that would make a vampire blush. Beyond that, they stay almost decently clothed, preferring golds and fabrics that are the same hue as their homeworld. Another notable feature is the massive segmented tail that juts out of their lower back. It's as long as they are and more in the way if that was possible.

They speak with their whole body--hands, feet, and tail included. As someone in the law profession, they never back down from giving their full opinion about something. If they pass on answering, you don't want to know what they were going to say. They also believe everyone is lying and is on the hunt for the truth at every given turn. Their voice is deep, smooth, and rings in dual tones.</sup>

❝ 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙳𝙾 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚃𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴? ❞

<sup>"Why did you hand me a gun? I'm more likely to shoot you and then myself with it than anything else. My weapon is my vast and startling intellect, coupled with my roguish handsome looks, and honeyed words. What? Fine, I can use magic. Just take your damn gun back."

First and foremost, Sawyer is a lawyer. Their extensive knowledge of the different laws in the galaxy and how to get by them in an entirely legal way is their bread and butter. They make sure that anything that might be pressed against the Guernica doesn't stick. Late docking fees? Poor signage and lack of a concrete due date in the contract. It contradicts itself numerous times over. Illegal drunken brawl? Actually, in the Trsuskgarian tradition, it's considered a cultural grievance not to. Oh, there were no Trsuskgarian's around? Well, my defendant practices their culture. Are you saying the Free Colony of Santivarius isn't actually free and limits individual expression? My defendant killed that man? Well. "Man" is a weird word for a robot. Do robots have a living and dead state? Or is it a variation of the flux of power that's streamed into them? It looks like my defendant just performed a hard restart on the robotic fellow and there are no laws against that.

They're fabulous at getting themselves and others out of sticky situations. It also doesn't hurt that they have diplomatic immunity for being in the top 1% of Arkopolis's that are in line for the throne. Just 24 more to go!

Sawyer's aura abilities are sonic-based. They can alter their voice, creating a more soothing or anxiety-inducing pitch. More taxing, they can make someone nauseous or lose their balance by messing with vibrations in the air through sound outside one's hearing range. They can also inflict damage with a sonic scream that acts like a blunt shockwave, which is incapable of killing but definitely can clear a room. Unfortunately, they can only do this once before they completely lose their voice. And once they've lost their voice, they cannot use their aura until they get it back. Also, it makes them a piss poor lawyer.</sup>

❝ 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃'𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙱𝙻𝙴𝙼? ❞

<sup>"I am unflappable and untouchable. There's nothing in this galaxy that can twist my hide. Well... except... I mean it has to do with the Imperials. It's nothing big though. I wouldn't worry your tiny little brain about it. Awe. Look at that brain. So itty-bitty."

Sawyer pissed off a good handful of Imperial lawmakers to the point that if they try to attend court within Imperial space, they would be fined and held in contempt. They'd still be allowed to represent their client, as long as they knew if they didn't get a favorable verdict, they'd be joining them. It had started with Sawyer winning a fairly decisive trade case involving the containment and shuttling of aura. Things then got worse when they fought a copyright lawsuit and won sheerly through the Imperial's sluggish bureaucracy. Then there was the time that they got a young Imperial woman a "not guilty" verdict for several murders. It then turned out that she was a serial killer, but she hadn't committed all the ones they had tried her for... just most of them. Honestly, that was not one of Sawyer's finest moments.

Yet, the biggest one had to be when they kept the Vangarian Empire from settling a small mining colony that had been abandoned except for one old Formokian that had gotten stuck in a rockslide but was still alive--being mostly rock himself. Sawyer's defense said that the old man wasn't technically a "squatter" since he couldn't technically "squat." He basically couldn't do anything but exist. So, he fell under the "Rights to Land Act." It was created hundreds of years ago for the Vangarian Empire to exploit itself. Throw a "research base" on a possibly inhabitable planet, stay there for a year, and bang the planet was yours.

Apparently, that mining colony would have been a massive resource grab for the Empire. Without it, an important project (Sawyer didn't know what) was stunted until the Vangarians could find another source of materials. Hence the hate... so it's a mutually beneficial relationship for Sawyer to stay on the Guernica. That way, they can't be subpoenaed if they are never in one place.</sup>

❝ 𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙴 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝚁𝙴𝚆. ❞

<sup>"Someone is always stepping on my tail, eating my snacks, messing with my work, or petting my cat. How dare they. Bartholomew Von Toe'Beans is my cat. Only I get to pet his entirely metal carapace."

Sawyer thinks they're all idiots, and they're blessing them with their presence. That doesn't mean that they don't interact with the rest of the crew, quite the opposite actually. They're in everyone else's business except their own. The thrill of listening to their unnecessary dramatic lives is absolutely intoxicating. It's like slipping on your favorite slippers and grabbing a warm mug of tea/wine/spacer fuel. They've made a few friends in their years aboard the ship, having taken up residence on it when they offered the captain a handful of cash to get them off an Imperial planet. And... they never left.</sup>

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment

@psych0pomp I'm correct in presuming Ambrose's car isn't an old beater, right? Something new, shiny, and brilliant white?

@PerfectThought

Yep! It screams "a teenager definitely doesn't need to be driving this car, but his uncle owns a car place so it doesn't matter."

See you space samurai... A Space Opera

@psych0pomp You can survive two days. I believe in you!

@TGM

That makes one of us. I'm kidding. I'm just interested to see if I make it. I was trying to shake up the usual mold of "face" by going "what if their charisma was just arguing with you reddit-style until you quit?" Also, I've been replaying Phoenix Wright for some reason. It's fully infected my brain.

Iunno. Maybe I need to get out and touch some grass... I mean... sleet.

See you space samurai... A Space Opera

So the deadline for sheets wont be for another few days- I'll just say wednesday and call it at that, however there are enough for me to start making handing out some invitations and whatnot.

@vietmyke

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment

"I just wanted to make sure he was receiving attention at home." She said at last. "To let you know that he needs support."

"I assure you. Ambrose has everything he could ever want, and more." Maryann coolly assuaged. "He has never known want."

_{"That's what I'm afraid of."} Violet murmured, acquiescing defeat and leaving the socialite woman to her wine.

@Fading Memory

Hot damn. Ambrose should apply ice to that burn he doesn't know exists, but I'm sure he can feel it in his soul.

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment

Everything ached but in a good way. Ambrose couldn’t say that was usual. The only thing he didn’t care about was the few scratches on the palms of his hands from handling the wood. They’d heal quickly enough, but for someone that had a “moisturizing routine,” it was a nuisance. After Freyja vaulted off, the child in toe, he found himself swallowed by the night of festivities. The goings-on of the day had distracted him from whatever his brain could pry out. Silence was the crowbar of discontent for him.

He wasn’t paying attention to anyone around him or anything that might have been said in his direction as they were abandoned by his car on the outskirts of the festival. He hit the key fob and opened the backseat, peeling off his dirtied and sweated-in shirt. It was then he realized that the guy from earlier was still loitering around. More so, that he was talking to Ambrose.

Ambrose stood there without a shirt on, the coolish air picking at his bare skin. It was without a blemish, scar, or other imperfection, and perfectly crafted like it’d been sculpted out of marble or some other slick, sexy rock. “Uh. Why would I know your mother?” Violet Cheeseman raised no alarm bells in his brain. She sounded like a character out of a children’s book with that name. Then again Brown Cheeseman sounded like a rare brand of some hard cheese served at one of his mother’s wine tastings. He’d gotten blitzed at a young age thinking it was a weird grape juice and scarfing all the cheese his little mouth could hold. He’d been a solid circle of a child.

He pulled his shirt over his head and slid it over his chest, it was form-fitting, allowing the warm light of the festival to leave little to the imagination regarding his musculature underneath. His shirt was a deep blue, and on it was an anime character of some kind. He didn’t know who it was. One of his friends back in New York had mailed it to him for his birthday. He’d tossed it into the back of his car as an “emergency” shirt. It layered with his distressed khakis and sneakers quite well. As if Ambrose could ever wear something unattractive.

“Ambrose,” he said, “Ambrose Hightower. I’m sure you’ve heard of me before, or at least my mom.” He shrugged. “Sure, I can hang out with you. I’m surprised you have friends.” He paused, realizing how that sounded. “Considering I don’t know who you are or your mom for that matter. Are you new to town?” He gestured to himself. “If we don’t find your friend, we can find some of mine. Mi… uh… friends… es… su… friends.”

_{TAG(S): @PerfectThought}