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. r o c k e t t e .

h o l d m e d o w n u n d e r h o l y w a t e r
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graphic artist digital & traditional artist passionate gamer novelist writer.

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There had been a storm that day. With waves crashing against the docks, tides whipped into a maelstrom whilst she boarded with all the regalia of an Oracle slowly disengaged from her veneer, all pearls and jewels suspended upon lithesome gestures and into the coffers of her former vassals bidden to her upon her voyage. Upon the gales of the sea a terrifying roar rent the whorls unto suspenseful wails of defiance, power and spades of tell tale wrath coiling the air to grey and black. Swollen skies threatened to split and yawn open with a torrent of refusal and denial to what she knew as the performance of her Mistress undone by her own emotive methods of rage.

Well, former Mistress.

That thread of detachment remained frayed and delicate whilst they embarked from Insomnia's port and across the sea to Dunwall before a U.D.F transit had taken her to Oak Ridge within a sleek model serialized as a military transport of the latest design. Curiously, through the entire journey, she had remained quiet and seemingly contemplative. More so interested within the dark clouds banked on the Northern shores that had finally ceased mid-way across the ocean, and to the glimmering rays of sun that broke beyond the wall of Levithan's might tinged in glimmers of scarlet tread liken to a gaping maw threatening to swallow the sky whole. Fingers threaded over her breast wherein beads of sapphire were polished and a silent prayer poured from silken lips, her head then bowed. She had remained in such a way for the remainder of the excursion until a queerly silent escort had roused her from her vigil none too gently with a shake to her shoulder.

She seemed almost appalled, and said: "You are the first to touch me outside my vassals. Incredible."

That statement alone conjored at least five feet of space given to her ambiance whilst she left the carrier and gazed heavenward at the facility looming before her, and gaped.

Evelina was no stranger to grand fixtures of stone and steel, harsh metal glinting in the allowed weather that sired high above her crown, but the U.D.F was nothing if not impressive within such high-tech quality. Her delicate gestures passed over idle furnishings, carrying herself with a subtle tenor of regal bearings and queenly poise that was difficult to shed even crossing into military functions. She procured her card with ease, without having been probed and wreathed a smile of both delicacy and serenity.

"Evelina Fleurane," she greeted, head canted for just a second whilst the receptionist merely blinked, after having witnessed quite a phalanx of potential allies coming in through the foyer - some flight driven and distracted and others seething with rage - it was alarmingly peculiar to witness one within her bearings and grace. She was nothing, however, if not professional and typed in her arrival with a soft exhale.

"Uhm, yes. You're - oh wow, Your Grace, I mean!" She collected herself admirably, rising from behind the counter. "Please just follow these gentlemen here. Uh, please enjoy your time with the U.D.F"

She beamed, sallow cheek punctuated with her simper whilst her escorts led her down a myriad of halls and turns, familiar to the vast estate she was often used to and the altar that led to a series of incredible pathways and depresses within the stone to reach the peak. Still maintaining their wide berth, they led her through an elevator, again a luxury she was well accustomed to, and with her hands primly folded at her front and aligned with her waist, Evelina approached the waiting room as if knowing where to go.

Her interchanging eyes of roseate glimmered with the prospect lying beyond the doors, her chest rising with an inhale that hissed through her teeth, a peculiar surge of energy rising to meet her veneer suddenly aglow in wonder.

"My, what power."

Her escorts exchanged a glance over her slight crown, uneasy.

"Thank you gentlemen," Evelina breathed and stepped into the waiting room almost too eagerly.

The facility was well furnished and beautiful, natural and yet not, a well mesh of two concepts that was pleasing to the eye and a balm to the nerves when faced with such critical advancement. Though donned in simplistic threads, all black on black, her sweater loose, her trousers tight and heeled boots laced to her ankles. Evelina was purposely done down, with her pale and translucent hair parting just so into her eyes when she regarded the occupants with her, and the spirits manifested between. Her smile was entranced, her gaze following each apparition as they coiled and glided on unforeseen strings of fate and power. She fluttered her fingers idly, as if bidden each to her gesture whilst she followed them to their rightful homes. A playful breeze pulled upon her tresses as she approached one of them, fixated and apparently lacking the social graces to acknowledge everyone in the room as she came close to the brunette reclined onto one of the couches.

"May I?" Eveline inquired, gesturing to one of the purple hued spiders curiously crawling amidst the tendrils of a jelly fish lurking above.
I have two consecutive days off at the beginning of the week, so I'll be getting Evelina's post up in those days. Was aiming for today, but I had a sour mood, so that wasn't happening.
Neat-o. I'll keep an eye on this.
I've been debating it over for the past couple of days about whether or not I wanted to put my name into the interest hat, but I just couldn't resist. So consider this being my official claim of interest. I've got an idea for my character too. Some things will have to be double-checked, but you can expect something within the day from me.

hell yeah !


It became rather apparent to one Vix Blackwater, as they crossed the copse of twisted bark and quivering limbs, that she was a literal fish out of water here. Or, something. The notion flitted briefly the moment her boot crunched over parched wood and promptly snapped such under her slight weight, coupled with a tendril of quaking nervousness at the void of sheer unknown eclipsed by a thicket of shadows. Despite the wedge of light provided by the only one aware of their awaiting endeavor into the gloom, the beam did little to settle that bundle of nerves curling against her spine in a weighted sphere of impending dread. Call it an old, and worn intuition, but creatures that went bump in the night had an agenda operating under cloaks of darkness, one she had no intentions of participating in. Others would label her a flight driven tool, but Vix had not made it this far based upon methods of luck and lack of know how. Years under the thumb of a Raider moniker branding her ruthless and mad had roughly sheered her psychosis to an almost acute paranoia, such trauma blanketed under copious amounts of whiskey and biting wit that left her feeling good. Vix cinched her grip upon her rifle with a doubled vice and kept herself behind Sully most of the time, trusting to his footfalls more so than the others apart of their troupe. Hunter inclinations clothed him within spades of capability, and whilst she wasn't dismissing to those of the addict and . . . Synth [Vix didn't trust anything that didn't bleed red] it was the youthful age of Felix that left her toiling in doubt. Experience made men in these wastes.

Lost to the cogs whirring behind her shifting gaze, it was only her acute perception that alerted her to the sudden shift in their atmosphere, the thicket yawning into a clearing bathed within the scenes of struggle and battle. Vix's brow drew down harsh, the butt of her rifle hoisted up against her shoulder and her arms almost rigid as she turned, panning the space at their backs with hurried glances through the gloom, lingering on the marred tree and the gunk seeped around the wounds for just a moment. Shit . . .

Vix did not like this, the whole quest just reeked of something wrong. From the slick taint on Soldier's warhammer, to the voice reaching to them desperately from the trees yonder and plucking on her nerves thrice fold. The former Raider almost holstered her rifle and reached for her knives along her waist until a snarl reached forward and tensed her shoulders all the more. Of all things possible within the forest, she was not expecting a trio of heavily radiated mutts stalking them from the dark. She almost barked in laughter, to think these feral creatures were responsible for this mayhem. Vix had worked with mongrels like these before, usually sedated creatures that were later taunted to ruthless aggression and led upon metal scraps and held down with macabre wire and chain to guard their out posts. She immediately ducked down and behind the others, they were better shots than her, for her skill relied heavily on the knives glimmering on her leather belts slung across her bust and waist. With lasers firing, snipers at the ready and pistols donned, Vix inhaled sharply through her flaring nasal and coiled her body for defense.

She knew that attempting to skirt around them would cause the lingering hound to break away, and a game of prey and predator was not within her own agenda. Her eyes fell upon "T" edging closer to the warhammer lying in the distance. Not a terrible plan, heavy melee against warped flesh and bone, there was little competition to that offense. Vix nodded with her assessment, holstered her rifle and drew two knives with artful flicks of her wrists, procuring the blades with finesse and professionalism. If they could keep the mutts busy enough and pump them up with enough holes, she could swoop in and finish the job or bolt around to search for Rocket calling for them beyond.
@DSquiggs //

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First impressions were crucial in the swamps, it led to degrees of judgement and capability, to place those of your ilk and those of your bane into categories of indispensable and liable burdens. Around the haze and burn of a campfire, Vix had been privy to what she snidely labeled a round-about circle jerk of shoddy mercenaries. Not that she wasn't impressed by the figure of Joe Sawyer, or even the Super Mutant whose name evaded her, and Soldier of course who had been the primary target for her lop-sided jeering during the initial leg of their journey. Of course, the man was entirely fixated on their chartreuse hued companion, so she had given up in favour of spinning her blades in idle fashion to amuse her glaringly obvious fidgeting. Rationing her smokes and little luxuries was eternally vexing, however necessary, to ensure that she didn't find herself at the mercy of the swamp and sun that appeared to bear down ever more with fierce intensity. Vix had been entertaining the notion of bribing Shepard with tantalizing conversation and attempts at sleight of hand to garner a few more smokes to her waning addiction when the introductions had began and older habits once buried had risen to the surface.

She calculated most of the time, with the bone of her teeth gnashed around her nail and withheld a internal monologue about the lack of a pack mentality. There was no such structured hierarchy or anyone to call the shots really, Rocket didn't count in her eyes, too young and too soft, innocence clothed in endearing curiosity if not a little annoying. With Daddy backpacking her the entire way, Vix refused to accept her as anything more than a simple messenger girl stuck on the wrong path. Soldier was far too bigoted and such would cater to poor judgement and potential lapses in commanding those to the proper cause. It didn't leave much for options and Vix found her loyalty wavering, and if not for the promise of caps and the need for such, she would've tucked and bolted at the first sign. She left her introductions vague with purpose and if not for the melodramatic hunter and the twitchy addict hashing petty threats, she might've stuck around.

As it were, Vix prowled until she found a decent pit to plant herself, leaning against the second wagon whilst Soldier took first watch against the first. Small comforts, she deducted and settled in for a wink of rest, head canted back and arms at her bust with fingers always prime and at the ready for the knives fixated to her slung belts. She didn't sleep well on her lonesome, but the potential of an awkward conversation otherwise left a bad taste in her mouth. Soot black lashes fell with a slow, waking tremour crawling way up her spine and setting her shoulders into unease. Vix's entire posture went rigid with the screams of the dying and afraid, the wails splintering within her mind awash in horrid memory, and waking a mural of flame before her eyes before she sprung to her boots and flanked around the wagon with knives tight within her white-knuckled grasp.

"What the shit -!"

Blood, heads rolling and a broken wagon with shattered trees and thick soil wet with death. Wasn't a party without bodies on the ground, apparently.

"Well, hell. Man..." Vix's eyes fell upon the weeping father, an unsettling coil in her belly and spine, confronted with mourning when she herself knew little of such a thing. Least, she thought so, swinging her rifle positioned on her sling and faced towards the forest. She only noticed then that their primary concerns were vacant, Rocket more so, she thought, and counted Soldier as an after thought. Though... He was a capable man, if nothing else, another gun to their fold and something told her, without him, something else was bound to end up in some deep shit. Vix allowed once last glance to the wailing Shepard and muttered 'neath her breath as the others began formulating a plan of action. Good start.

"All right, all right. Don't get your panties in a bunch." After having her name summoned twice, it was enough to grind on her already quaking nerves firing rapidly in juncture with their predicament. Vix approached those gathered, keeping her eyes on the forest and listening to the what little intelligence was provided.

"Yao Guai or Deathclaw, huh?." Vix came up beside Sully, carefully eyeing the shadows that teemed with threat; poised to swallow them whole the moment they crossed that threshold of a hunting party. "Going to need some light, most beasts will keep from it. I want you on point," she nudged her elbow into his customized leather armor and gestured forward. "You're good with this shit, yeah."

Vix pivoted to face the others volunteering for their troupe, "We follow within his steps, no funny shit either, you all know these rad'd up things get thirsty when the sun goes down."
@EveryMemeAKing //

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@Alisdragon911 //

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