Sigil

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Location: North Of Newnan (Veterans Memorial Park - Corner of Temple Ave. & Jackson St.)

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Thalia had found the pound cake. Oh yes, Thalia had found the pound cake. The packaging put up a hard fight, but in the end, when the final bell rang? The referee raised the bloodied glove of the half-Latina spitfire who immediately enjoyed the spoils of victory one loving morsel at a time. It was said that the men for whom these MREs were designed would go to great lengths to maintain the territory of their pound cake. In these troubling times, Thalia knew why. Her final tactic in forcing the dark plastic wrapping to give up its prize came in the form of an automatic tactical knife she pulled from her boot. By the time the wide, pointy steel opened with a ponderous, intimidating click, it was all over but the individually packaged moist towelette to dab the crumbs away from her chiseled face.

She was listening to her friend, though. "Hey girl, this is your tank. I'm just squatting here. I only made a deal to fork over hot chocolate powder in exchange for some coffee cups." When she said it out loud, it didn't really seem completely on the up-and-up. "You want my opinion, Lola? Fine. Every decent person out here needs friends. And no action can be left unanswered, good or bad. Maybe we don't take him all the way to his precious lines of smoke, but we're going near that way anyway. We can get him closer, least." Everything seemed a trade these days. Her deal was for coffee cups, but perhaps a tea set would change things. Or perhaps they'd just be on their way, off to their own destination in mind.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: Somewhere Above Very Northern Mexico

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Being cryptic was new to Caesar. If he had been in the past, it was not particularly intentional. But sitting there, slowly consuming his meal (which destroyed the cliches of airplane food in general), he came to the realization that what he had just said might require some sort of explanation, however brief. The fact that his two companions on this trip back home had glanced in his direction with puzzled demeanor after he said this aloud. They hadn't asked any questions about it (though Cecily started to), but they were there, just under the surface. Ok, a little supportive detail wouldn't hurt. But he didn't feel like turning this into Story Time with Unca Caesar.

"Maria was Alicia's mother. We were married. She said this might happen." He didn't mention it, though it could be assumed that his lifestyle was a key reason why they were no longer together. And true, private security was a potentially dangerous occupation and Caesar's former life had a LOT to do with her misgivings, but very rarely would a professional in the field get themselves murdered for it. They were conducting business as usual, as far as Caesar knew. It wasn't until after that the full scope of Alicia's activities began to come out. "I didn't listen to her. M'hija didn't to listen to her either. I thought our familia was done with this foolishness. Here we are, in it again." Of course, there was the other side of that coin, now that they had viewed Alicia's second tape. Talk about cryptic.

"Now we need them to get back out." Fine. So he was being cryptic. So sue him.

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J. Keystone

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Location: Justice Airport

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Keystone flipped through the paperwork on the clipboard handed to him by Ibanez as they all made their way to Baggage Claim. It was work orders and personnel overview mostly; basic stuff for transfers, but what surprised him was the lack of official documentation that he would have to sign or at least acknowledge before moving forward. A brief second of distrust hit him at that realization. It smoothed over as he came to the conclusion that imposters would probably have had much more complete and convincing paperwork. Figuring that this group was probably sent in by El Jefe under direct orders and not through channels, there would be less to process. It might even be better this way.

Personnel files at least gave him names, which he went over in a quiet voice. "Ibanez... Vinters... Huang... Huang?" A moment of curiosity overtook him and he casually glanced back to the Asian in the group, and he asked, "你的家人是從黃河流域嗎?"

"Originally, yes sir. Some still live there." he responded, surprised that the large, oafish-looking man was fluent. Very fluent.

Turning his attention back to the list, he finished up with, "...and Whitmore... Right. Got space in m'ride for the lot of you; you and your bags, both." He did like his new vehicle. Not that he was the "thank-you note" type of guy, but he would have to mention something to Caesar when he got back. But speaking of room for bags, the group of similarly dressed persons had made it down to Baggage Claim. "Right then. Grab your shit. Car's outside; big black monster. I'll fill in proper once we're on the way." An odd thought occurred to him. He looked back at the new Tech people, curiously inquiring, "Oi! You lot wanna buy out a taco truck on the way in? I could do with a grande soddin' burrito 'bout nowish."

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

And a quick apology for the double post, but...

@Lady Amalthea had asked for a response concerning a collab first, and I really should have FIFO'ed that situation. Sorry about that. Yes, I definitely think that Harper and Anisa should collab their interactions on the way to the shipyard. Meant no disrespect in not getting back to you first.

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

@Morose

Sure. I think the characters might have a decent amount of witty repartee that is better expressed in short bursts and posted all at once.

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

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: Qasr El Nil Barracks

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Qasr El Nil Barracks

Reginald listened politely while Peter went over his trials during the more asked about but naught revealed portion of his time during and after the Great War. He did not interrupt, did not ask any questions whatsoever, even to the point of stifling a quiet harrumph to clear his throat. He took in all of the gory details of what had actually happened to his nephew. Being a man of action at heart, and having seen many atrocities in his time as a soldier. He had even performed a few actions (under orders) that were regrettable to him, even to this day.

"And the memory of our dearest Vera sustained you, did it? That is extraordinary, sir." The Lord Major sipped his tea, quite content to pause his work for a heart-to-heart with his nephew. "I know you would never bring her dishonor, Peter. You are a better man than I, you see, for that is precisely the mistake I made. You wholeheartedly have my blessing to pursue your lady love, Peter. Wholeheartedly. Of this I shall not waver. And if Kismet gives you its blessing as well, then who am I to say anything to the contrary? Simply let the process take its due time, and use that time to get to know her again."

"I say, for that exact purpose - why don't you give us an assist with this little side project we're getting ourselves into? It would be a superior thing to have the Lords Keystone adventuring side by side in Cairo and parts beyond, delving into intrigue and solving centuries-old mysteries of the sands, wot?"

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

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Newhope Docks (Underground)

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Foy raised an eyebrow at Dorothy's choice of words for him, given their context. "Un-congeal your puddings, madame." began Foy, a slightly amused lilt to his voice despite obvious misgivings concerning his footwear. "I am not giving you untoward proposition, of course. Such an act would reek of unrefinement. I bring humor into an otherwise grave situation, Doctor, by means of a comparative of dual meaning; not petition you plus a heretofore unnamed third party for sweet and euphoric boingy." And speaking of the three-way corridor, Foy was able to pick up the trail of blood and tracks almost immediately, following it from where they stood, along the rightmost path. The rate at which they went and the change in quality of the trail gave Foy the belief that they were indeed gaining decent ground.

As they moved, Foy felt the need to continue speaking, though in somewhat hushed tones. "Consider yourself lucky. Or unlucky, as the case may be. My proclivities gravitate toward womenfolk who are either compensated monetarily for their time, as a guideline, or those who demonstrate the capacity to become marriageable material. We are engaged profesionally, if not contractually. This puts you deftly in the realm of neither." He really was enjoying himself, for the first time in a while.

It was apparent by light and noise filtering in from up above that they had moved much closer to the city proper. Somewhere along the edge, as well as Foy could reckon. It would make for an interesting emergence if they were someplace busy or in the middle of a street, certainly. The dapper man's thoughts went back and forth to this possibility, but then decided to cross that bridge when they came to it.

When their search led them to a ladder not too far down the tunnel, Foy observed a heavier staining of blood underneath it and smudges along some of the rungs. The manhole cover was solid above them. Pointing upward, he smiled and stated with a little happiness, "And now we ascend, Doctor." He wasted no time in hauling himself up the ladder and applying a little pressure to the metal plate blocking their egress from the storm drain. It refused to budge. He put a shoulder into it. Still, no movement of note. Foy could feel the beginnings of a giving way, as the physics might have indicated that the threshold pressure for movement was attained, but was somehow partially blocked off. "Right then. It appears we have a further obstacle. I might employ noisier efforts, unless you have an idea, else we might abscond a handful of meters to the next nearest portal and double back. What say you, Physician?"

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William Harper

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Location: Cargo (and just beyond)

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Mixed emotions washed over Harper, a fact that he kept to himself. His presence with Anisa had absolutely nothing to do with his abilities as a Pilot and as an Engineer, it was to get him away from the ship. Ok, fair enough. The presence of unknown persons on board, especially after all of the drama surrounding the impromptu shifting of authority out in the Black. Harper had already decided to let it roll off his back and soldier on. It was the right call to make.

Following in step behind Anisa, Harper got the full explanation without making comment. When Anisa was finished, he responded with a flat accent and demeanor. "I see." He was a little crestfallen, but didn't let it show in his voice. "In the event you need counsel or request my opinion, I'll keep myself on standby." He followed without volunteering more.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

@FantasyChic

I have that exact .gif as a faceclaim for a D&D character in here. Freaky.

<ahem> I mean, Welcome Aboard! Yay!

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Passive Skills:

• Fal'shbort - You are tougher, stronger, more Russian!
• Tretiy Glaz - An ability that gives a person a sixth sense into the future. Unpredictable and random.

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Location: (Outside of) Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent Park)

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Vladimir wanted to hurl his knives at the foul thing as it retreated. He wanted to crush the unlife from it with his bare hands. He wanted to do so many hurtful things, but the Beast had put his Elizaveta into immediate, mortal peril. The experienced Russian knew that he could not plow through the ice and hope that his superior Cossack-ness would save the both of them, though he did not fully rule out the possibility. However, he knew that Veta did not have the luxury of his "maybe". There was only one of them present that stood any realistic possibility of saving her.

As it turned out, Contstantin came to the same conclusion that he did. As the younger performer called out to him, telling him to try freeing the tiger from his icy Bastille, Vladimir was already on his way. Scrambling across the ice, the frenzied Impalement Artist began frantically attacking the ice around Myshka; at first with the blade in his hand and then with his fists, trying his damnedest to dislodge the powerful beast from the surface of the unnaturally frozen lake. As he worked, he could be heard continually and urgently saying things like, "Get Veta, please get Veta back, Myshka. You do this, good kitty. Come on, ve get you out..."

There was righteous pride in him, Vladimir realized, as he came through the fog in the first place. He had expected one of the more common Soulless from his homeland, something with which he was familiar. But this thing was not Golgravitz. He could only wish that his error hadn't indirectly killed Veta.

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_{"Behold, I send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you."}

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Location: St. Etheldreda's

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St. Etheldreda's Church/Ely House

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Addressing Sister Lazarus's comments, Mary simply smiled and bowed her head to the wisdom of the elder Nun, saying, "You are correct of course, Sister. We have always been in the middle of a war for our souls. I fear this time, it shall be less metaphorical and more of a direct assault. Please take care of yourself. The world needs your precise hand and singular wit, still."

Considering the question of her letters, Mary responded with a more businesslike, "If it please you, I would ask that you copy the first letter with haste and return it immediately. Respectfully, Sister, I need to present this where I am traveling, and if God is willing, I shall depart in a quarter hour. The second letter is more of a personal communication between myself and His Holiness, but I have no objection if a copy is added to the archives. I can return for it later."

Mary looked back to Adam. He seemed restless, as a little boy might when faced with a few indeterminate minutes of waiting in a boring room filled with papers and books, while grownups had grownup conversations about serious things. Mary marveled at the resilience of children. He had just been through an unexplained event, he was hearing directly that Soulless were on the prowl, and yet ere was this boy, anxious to see a lady who looked like a princess, who had visited him once in the infirmary. Something else was odd; Adam seemed to be cold. It wasn't the most pleasant morning, but this was an English summer. Mary peered inquisitively at him for a moment, tucking this new detail away in her memory. It might be that she had something else to discuss with the Grand Duchess.

The moment that Sister Lazarus finished with the message from the Grand Cross, Mary retrieved it and put it securely into her sporran bag. She politely thanked the elder Archivist and looked back to Adam, holding out her hand, "Come along then. Let us grab a little something from the kitchen and see where dear Sister Alma has gotten off to. You need to look your best if we are to be in the presence of the Grand Duchess this morning."

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

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Keystone

Location: Leather Goods Shoppe

Interacting With: Shopkeeper, Cyneburg

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The itinerant brawler inspected his coat. It was decent work, no doubt. straight, reinforced stitching, barely noticeable from the outside. Later on, he might go as far as to get some additional hide or stiffened leather applied to the areas of his protective garment that had been penetrated by steel a couple of days back. Too much of that became counterproductive after a fashion; he was being truthful when he said that he required decent freedom of movement to properly utilize the skills he picked up from various Shou masters and texts. He immediately slid himself into his coat and flexed a bit. "Good work, this..." he mumbled. Placing the five copper coins he received as change for his silver ones onto the counter, he remarked, "...'preciate the rush job." and slid them toward the leatherworker.

Then Cyneburg happened. He really couldn't blame her, he did introduce himself to the Monks at the Yellow Rose Temple with title. It didn't stop him from chuckling, though. Well, less of a chuckle than a guffaw. And by guffaw, that really meant that he came close to soiling himself laughing, running out of breath quickly and using the counter as support. Smiley choking tears squeezed from his eyes, and he had to force himself to breath at a normal rate. When he finally could a moment later, he addressed the Druid as best he was able. "Oh, just bloody fonging 'ell... I 'aven't laughed that 'ard since I'm a lil girl." he breathed deeply and centered himself.

"Fact is, Miss Cyneburg, I'm nobody. I don't belong to no proper Temple like those folk what wear robes and think the deep thoughts 'bout their place in the universe, y'understand. They got their spiritual pursuits an' philosophy an' codes of bloody conduct. I mostly just put the hurtin' on folks what need it." he smiled broadly again, but refrained from actually laughing. "Any title I go by with these folk is, umm..." Keystone struggled with a word for a second, "Honorary. Yeah, that's it. 'onorary. I know a style ain't been used in 'undreds of bloody years, an' they lemme work with 'em 'cause they want to study me as much as I want what they know. These buggers know 'bout me places I ain't been yet. They keep sayin' there's somethin' else 'bout me, but..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

"I just ain't a Monk, not proper. No Master ever invited me to join 'em official-like. I'm a brawler from noplace special what got into a library I ought not've been and found a bloody book." Keystone tried to maintain a sense of lasting humor with his words, but something else crept in. A sense of futility, maybe. Frustration at being pulled into a destiny for which he did not ask. "Past that my life's been a real peach."

"Oi, you about ready to 'ead back?" Keystone seemed eager to change the subject, following his outburst. Without another word, he headed outside.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Location: North Of Newnan (Veterans Memorial Park - Corner of Temple Ave. & Jackson St.)

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The slightly oversalted joy that was Chili plus Mac & Cheese (together) was Thalia's to consume at leisure. Lola had pretty much finished hers off and the old guy, Alexander, was just about to enter the nearest building that may or may not logically contain coffee mugs. She didn't have a lot in the way of actual, honest-to-god table manners, but she did have the tiniest twinge of guilt horking back a full, nutritious meal in front of someone who probably hadn't been able to eat their fill in weeks. Maybe months.

But hork she did. The pleasantries of civilized society a thing of the past for her, she had zero qualms ripping into the contents of the dark plastic packaging and attacking the passably edible goodies inside. Her preference for solitude, even from before the Outbreak, led her down a path of eating for the utilitarian need of keeping her body functioning; to that end it was fast and didn't always involve forks, even when forks were the generally preferred method of making sure food and face had an amicable meeting. Many times, unless other people were present, flatware just slowed her down.

The stark allure of Chili Mac was almost enough to warrant turning the whole thing upside down and squeezing the contents of the bag into her mouth. Almost. The good people that put together the MRE saw fit to include a thick plastic spoon, supposedly biodegradable (though she never saw one mid-degrade). She looked up at Lola, putting on her makeup, and sighed. Spoon it was. The heating element, however, she didn't want to waste on her breakfast. A contained exothermic reaction started by a few drops of water? No, no. That had possibilities.

But she still made that MRE her bitch.

"Nah, Lolz." Thalia was speaking through partial mouthfuls as she addressed Lola's query about their new acquaintance's sanity. "I don't think he's crazy. Or senile. Hell, he's probably just as sane as y..." She paused for a moment and gave a little cough, "Excuse me; sane as I am. Man his age, living this long with the Zeds? I think he just found his own personal slice of Fuck It."

Thalia located and ripped open a sealed, grey-brown packet containing dense, square crackers. That and a little peanut butter would go down nicely. Quietly, however, she picked up the pack of matches from inside her pack and secreted them into the breast pocket of her leather jacket. She did so appreciate having easy means to make fire.