Lol no biggie. Luke is working on getting a hold of someone to delete my post
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- Twhirtley 11 yrs ago
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Green Names are the Superior Race
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Bio
You're an interesting species. An interesting mix. You're capable of such beautiful dreams, and such horrible nightmares. You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you're not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we've found that makes the emptiness bearable, is each other.
Thanks!
Thanks!
Most Recent Posts
yay more people.
Important Note: Now that I've reached my desired minimum of people involved, I'll post up the thread proper after work tomorrow, and make sure to tag you all in it.
Important Note: Now that I've reached my desired minimum of people involved, I'll post up the thread proper after work tomorrow, and make sure to tag you all in it.
Since this was mentioned earlier, I might as well follow up :P
This is Tucker, a 2 year old pom corgi mix.
This is Rocco, my 7 year old straight hair Jack Russell.
And this is Cocoa. She's not actually mine, but I'd been dog sitting her for about 2 weeks while mom was visiting Italy. She's a long hair chihuahua and toy poodle mix.
This is Tucker, a 2 year old pom corgi mix.
This is Rocco, my 7 year old straight hair Jack Russell.
And this is Cocoa. She's not actually mine, but I'd been dog sitting her for about 2 weeks while mom was visiting Italy. She's a long hair chihuahua and toy poodle mix.
:o Trish went dark in that last bit lol
As the hatch opened, Trish slinked inside, always keeping an eye on Angel, watching her, trying to judge her exhaustive state. When the hatch shut, she relaxed. Trish was never used to having people rely on her, or even her relying on others. And when it did occur, it often made her paranoid, desperate to calculate everything, to achieve perfection, and never fail. And it hadn't happened since her last crew, her last failure. It seemed everyone was on board and the ship was flying, putting this station and the chase behind her, for now.
She knew of Oberon, but had never been there personally. People who spoke of it said if you were looking for a specific part to a ship, to a droid, to anything, odds are you can always find it on Oberon. Her father had spoken of it with venom in his voice, saying that spare parts from there were a death wish for a bomb maker. Trish was snapped back to the conversation at hand as the captain spoke once more, speaking of stowaways and the like. Trish didn't really have any experience in finding smuggler hideaways or tracking devices, so she just supposed she'd be falling Angel's lead.
A short quip from the captain, and suddenly Trish now found herself alone by the hatch. It seemed the others had their usefulness. The pilot flew, the mechanic repaired, and likely would be useful in finding the things the captain didn't want on his ship. Amir and Angel were the muscle, and Trish, as usual, was the burden. She looked down at her bloodied, wrapped hand, and felt a stinging heat forming behind her eyes. This was how her life had always been, and how it was always going to be. Forgotten until she ruined something. The tears never shed, a habit she learned to stop early on with her father.
Finally, she decided to go and find her some quarters. Making her way through the ship, she was thankful it was not a similar model to her last crew's ship. Her ghosts haunted her enough as it was. Her fingers from her uninjured hand lightly felt the wall as she progressed, finally finding the corridor she sought. As usual, she selected the first quarters on the left hand side. This was an old survival habit, it allowed her to be out faster in case of an emergency. The console asked for a new pin to be entered, since the system seemed to have been reset. Seven number punches, then confirmed, and the door slid open for her.
Stepping inside, it was clear the previous occupant led quite the spartan lifestyle. No decorations, no mess. A bed, a desk, a few shelves, and the small head. Peering inside there, she did manage a sigh of small relief. It had a very small tub, in addition to the shower head. Moving back into her main quarters, she put her pack on the bed, removed her belt that had her newly acquired buzz baton, and then the rest of her clothes. Back in the head, she started the tub filling, steaming hot. At the sink now, she pulled off the bandage and looked at the still bleeding wound. She quickly retrieved her multitool and a cartridge which she loaded into it. Running the faucet, she winced as she washed the wound under hot water, using the cloth to scrub it out from within. Satisfied enough, holding the multitool in her other hand, she flipped the dial and the head became a nozzle of sorts. Putting it up to the wound, she activated it and the super glue oozed out, burning as it met the wound, and solidified as it filled it in.
Once she was satisfied, she flexed it, knowing the glue would move as she did, then rewashed her hand. She then slipped into the now full tub, pulled her knees to her chest, and her final habit set in. It started with her chest tightening, her anxiety rising, her breath growing a bit more rapid. She could feel that moment when her bomb had gone off, remembering the fear of almost being caught. But that wasn't what bothered her. What bothered her was the fact that in the moment she knew the steel bearings were tearing through the bodies of the guards, she was happy, for the briefest of moments. And she hated that she felt like that every, single time she killed people. Just like her father, she was a monster. Slowly she started rocking back and forth in the water, reliving every death she killed, wishing she was human enough to regret them. And it always ended with his face, and that's when she dunked her head forward between her knees into the water, and screamed as loud as she could, hoping the water muffled enough to prevent questions.
As soon as it was over, she brought her face back out of the water and slipped back into a more restful position, moving her mind forward, trying to relax. She was already planning her next escape, her next backup plan. New crews always failed, through death or capture or desertion, and as usual, Trish always planned for the worst and never saw the best. She took this time to relax as best she could and clean herself, wondering how far Oberon was, and when her next meal, and next job was. Anytime she felt herself being useless, she could feel him striking her once more. She needed to be busy, and soon.
She knew of Oberon, but had never been there personally. People who spoke of it said if you were looking for a specific part to a ship, to a droid, to anything, odds are you can always find it on Oberon. Her father had spoken of it with venom in his voice, saying that spare parts from there were a death wish for a bomb maker. Trish was snapped back to the conversation at hand as the captain spoke once more, speaking of stowaways and the like. Trish didn't really have any experience in finding smuggler hideaways or tracking devices, so she just supposed she'd be falling Angel's lead.
A short quip from the captain, and suddenly Trish now found herself alone by the hatch. It seemed the others had their usefulness. The pilot flew, the mechanic repaired, and likely would be useful in finding the things the captain didn't want on his ship. Amir and Angel were the muscle, and Trish, as usual, was the burden. She looked down at her bloodied, wrapped hand, and felt a stinging heat forming behind her eyes. This was how her life had always been, and how it was always going to be. Forgotten until she ruined something. The tears never shed, a habit she learned to stop early on with her father.
Finally, she decided to go and find her some quarters. Making her way through the ship, she was thankful it was not a similar model to her last crew's ship. Her ghosts haunted her enough as it was. Her fingers from her uninjured hand lightly felt the wall as she progressed, finally finding the corridor she sought. As usual, she selected the first quarters on the left hand side. This was an old survival habit, it allowed her to be out faster in case of an emergency. The console asked for a new pin to be entered, since the system seemed to have been reset. Seven number punches, then confirmed, and the door slid open for her.
Stepping inside, it was clear the previous occupant led quite the spartan lifestyle. No decorations, no mess. A bed, a desk, a few shelves, and the small head. Peering inside there, she did manage a sigh of small relief. It had a very small tub, in addition to the shower head. Moving back into her main quarters, she put her pack on the bed, removed her belt that had her newly acquired buzz baton, and then the rest of her clothes. Back in the head, she started the tub filling, steaming hot. At the sink now, she pulled off the bandage and looked at the still bleeding wound. She quickly retrieved her multitool and a cartridge which she loaded into it. Running the faucet, she winced as she washed the wound under hot water, using the cloth to scrub it out from within. Satisfied enough, holding the multitool in her other hand, she flipped the dial and the head became a nozzle of sorts. Putting it up to the wound, she activated it and the super glue oozed out, burning as it met the wound, and solidified as it filled it in.
Once she was satisfied, she flexed it, knowing the glue would move as she did, then rewashed her hand. She then slipped into the now full tub, pulled her knees to her chest, and her final habit set in. It started with her chest tightening, her anxiety rising, her breath growing a bit more rapid. She could feel that moment when her bomb had gone off, remembering the fear of almost being caught. But that wasn't what bothered her. What bothered her was the fact that in the moment she knew the steel bearings were tearing through the bodies of the guards, she was happy, for the briefest of moments. And she hated that she felt like that every, single time she killed people. Just like her father, she was a monster. Slowly she started rocking back and forth in the water, reliving every death she killed, wishing she was human enough to regret them. And it always ended with his face, and that's when she dunked her head forward between her knees into the water, and screamed as loud as she could, hoping the water muffled enough to prevent questions.
As soon as it was over, she brought her face back out of the water and slipped back into a more restful position, moving her mind forward, trying to relax. She was already planning her next escape, her next backup plan. New crews always failed, through death or capture or desertion, and as usual, Trish always planned for the worst and never saw the best. She took this time to relax as best she could and clean herself, wondering how far Oberon was, and when her next meal, and next job was. Anytime she felt herself being useless, she could feel him striking her once more. She needed to be busy, and soon.
Here for now, if/when we get enough interested, I'll post the thread proper :)
I'm creating a Murder Mystery RP, but as this is the Interest Check, I'm going to keep this bit fairly simple. You get two characters, one of whom has received this invitation by whatever means suits you (mail, found in a gutter, stole from someone, etc). This is set in the modern time, with Riverside being a small town (village) along the Ohio River northwest of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
The interesting bit, at least for me, is that after character creation (remember, you get 2), I will do 2 dice rolls. One will determine which character will be murdered during the story, and which character will be the murder. It is possible that a writer can end up having both the Murderer and Murdered in their characters (or even a single character if you take into account suicide). At that point, I will contact the writer of the Murderer to flesh out the details, motive, etc.
Then the story begins, with the characters surviving this situation, attempting to find the murderer (or elude the others), etc. Once the initial murder has occurred, the entire story is completely fluid from that point on, meaning everyone could be murdered, or the murderer could be discovered two minutes later. It all hinges on the skill of the writers and their characters :D
Trish slumped into the sanctuary of the open lift, lightly pulling Angel in with her. They were almost home free it seemed. The door sealed with a hiss behind them, and began the quick ascent. Looking over Angel, she could see the exhaustion therein. There was a pang of guilt, Trish didn't know the limits of a Psyche when she asked, no, commanded her to use them. Now, it seemed that the woman was mostly useless, and therefore vulnerable. If they ran into any more trouble, it really could end badly.
Trish took this time to look at her injured hand, noting the blood that was dripping off it now. It was a fairly deep and jagged cut, but she could still move and use it, albeit with a fair bit of pain. She ripped a sleeve off her shirt and quickly wrapped it up, until she could get it patched up properly. As she watched the numbers tick off, she readied her buzz baton, and made a mental note that she had three stun grenades left. The door hissed open, and Trish looked over at Angel, not saying anything, before stepping into the hall.
Then the alarms resounded. The real alarms.
This meant time, which was already limited, was now fleeting, and if they weren't quick, they'd be left behind. At the end of the hall, she saw Amir drop a guard and begin pounding on the hatch. Looking over her shoulder at Angel, "Let's get outta here."
She stuck close with Angel, not going to leave the drained woman to her own devices, not knowing when more guards may show up. Her ears were straining to listen past the sirens, trying to hear the hiss of a lift door. The hatch needed to open soon, or they would all end up in Dead Lock. Saying nothing, she simply looked to the captain for direction.
Trish took this time to look at her injured hand, noting the blood that was dripping off it now. It was a fairly deep and jagged cut, but she could still move and use it, albeit with a fair bit of pain. She ripped a sleeve off her shirt and quickly wrapped it up, until she could get it patched up properly. As she watched the numbers tick off, she readied her buzz baton, and made a mental note that she had three stun grenades left. The door hissed open, and Trish looked over at Angel, not saying anything, before stepping into the hall.
Then the alarms resounded. The real alarms.
This meant time, which was already limited, was now fleeting, and if they weren't quick, they'd be left behind. At the end of the hall, she saw Amir drop a guard and begin pounding on the hatch. Looking over her shoulder at Angel, "Let's get outta here."
She stuck close with Angel, not going to leave the drained woman to her own devices, not knowing when more guards may show up. Her ears were straining to listen past the sirens, trying to hear the hiss of a lift door. The hatch needed to open soon, or they would all end up in Dead Lock. Saying nothing, she simply looked to the captain for direction.
The moment the door closed behind the two women, the cheater's wife broke down into sobs. Leti pulled the woman's face to her chest, gently cradling her in a comforting embrace. "Get it out hun, get those tears out." While rubbing the woman's back, as the sobs continued loudly, Leti's eyes quickly took in her surroundings. For a resident of Undercity, this woman had a surprisingly comfortable and tasteful home. She even had one of those fancy security systems across the door and windows. Well, that ruined one plan of unlocking an unused window for Ghost to slip in sometime, but that was a crappy plan anyways.
Besides, Leti already had a knew one forming behind that shark-like grin. As the sobs died down a bit, Leti pulled away, but made sure to keep physical contact, so that the woman would continue to feel the trusting bond. Moving toward an open doorway, what she assumed was a living room or common room of some sort, "Come on hun, let's sit down."
Moving into the living room, the decor did not disappoint, aside from one area. There was a recliner, littered with crumbs and beer cans and other disgusting things lazy men left behind. Knowing that might set the woman off, she guided the woman, hand in hers, so that she turned with her back to the recliner as they sat on a surprisingly comfortable sofa. Leti easily slipped into the guise of the most caring of listeners as the woman told the entire story of her life with that pig. They'd been young lovers, and back then he was caring and hardworking. But one day she got a surprisingly good job as an overseer at one of the best factories in Undercity, and about the same time he lost his own job.
Feeling emasculated, he'd slipped into sloth and apathy, which then became anger and bitterness. They grew more distant as he pushed her away. But she never thought he'd stray, that all he needed was a job to feel important again. Then she came home to find him with that skank. The story finished, the woman looked utterly defeated, and clearly feeling very ugly, self-conscious, and alone.
Leti tipped the woman's chin up, so her water eyes met her own firm ones. "You're far better off without him. The only good he ever had in him, was because of you. This beautiful apartment, your job, all of it shows how much better you are. We need to purge him from this place."
The woman's eyes showed that she didn't really understand. "Well, we could always just toss all his crap out, maybe set it on fire, just to prove a point to that bastard."
Leti knew that any Undercity native would never just destroy perfectly good possessions. But she needed to make it seem as if her true idea was the woman's. The woman spoke up, "But, that's so wasteful. We spent good money on his stuff. I could never burn it."
Leti looked as if she were surprised by the logic and novelty of her comment. "You could just sell it then, get some of your money back! Korbil's place is just down the way."
The woman considered it, and smiled, "The bastard would hate that, having to buy his stuff back at twice the price. Alright, let's do it."
Thankfully, most of the stuff in the apartment was hers, so it didn't take long for them to gather up his things in a few large boxes. During this time, they exchanged names, pleasantries, and various tidbits about one another. Leti made sure to occasionally provide a comforting touch and a mildly lustful look at the woman, only to make it seem as if they were nothing. The trick was to keep them guessing.
Once everything was packed, the two woman lugged the stuff down to Korbil's shop. The woman wasn't a great haggler, and Korbil knew Leti from past dealings, and the two had a silent understanding. Leti helped the woman be comfortable with lower payouts, and Korbil would pay her the difference of what he would've actually paid. It was a win-win. The woman had a hefty haul of coin and bill now, tucking them safely away on her person, as they both turned to leave. Leti grabbed her share from Korbil, secretly, knowing that if he shorted her, it would be nothing to mention this slight to Keith.
"You really made this whole situation better Leti, if you hadn't showed up, I'd probably be trying to get him back by now."
Leti smiled, moving in a bit closer, hip to hip with Sandra, "It's nothing. When you've had nothing but bad men, you take care of the good women. Especially the beautiful ones." As they came closer to Leti's home, she knew it was time to depart, but she wanted an in for later. "I have to go home and get ready from work," making sure her face showed disappointment. As she turned to leave, she heard Sandra call out, "Leti, wait."
Smiling to herself, she turned back, waiting for her to speak. "Will I... Will I see you again?" Leti just smiled, slinking forward, before lightly placing her hands on either side of Sandra's face, pulling it close as she pressed their lips together, firmly, seeking her out. After a long moment, she pulled away, looking Sandra in the eyes, "Only if you want to. I'll be at the Dark and Stormy later tonight, do you know it?"
The woman nodded, "Good, then you know where to find me." With that, Leti turned and left, knowing she had the hook in deep. She took a round about way to get back home, slipping inside, sneaking into her and Ghost's room, and stashing her money away. She knew Ghost knew about her stash, but there would be so much hell if he touched even a penny of it. Once that was safely hidden, she made her way back to the group, assuming they'd worked out some sort of plan for this evening's work. It was about that time. She said nothing, not wanting to interrupt, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest.
Besides, Leti already had a knew one forming behind that shark-like grin. As the sobs died down a bit, Leti pulled away, but made sure to keep physical contact, so that the woman would continue to feel the trusting bond. Moving toward an open doorway, what she assumed was a living room or common room of some sort, "Come on hun, let's sit down."
Moving into the living room, the decor did not disappoint, aside from one area. There was a recliner, littered with crumbs and beer cans and other disgusting things lazy men left behind. Knowing that might set the woman off, she guided the woman, hand in hers, so that she turned with her back to the recliner as they sat on a surprisingly comfortable sofa. Leti easily slipped into the guise of the most caring of listeners as the woman told the entire story of her life with that pig. They'd been young lovers, and back then he was caring and hardworking. But one day she got a surprisingly good job as an overseer at one of the best factories in Undercity, and about the same time he lost his own job.
Feeling emasculated, he'd slipped into sloth and apathy, which then became anger and bitterness. They grew more distant as he pushed her away. But she never thought he'd stray, that all he needed was a job to feel important again. Then she came home to find him with that skank. The story finished, the woman looked utterly defeated, and clearly feeling very ugly, self-conscious, and alone.
Leti tipped the woman's chin up, so her water eyes met her own firm ones. "You're far better off without him. The only good he ever had in him, was because of you. This beautiful apartment, your job, all of it shows how much better you are. We need to purge him from this place."
The woman's eyes showed that she didn't really understand. "Well, we could always just toss all his crap out, maybe set it on fire, just to prove a point to that bastard."
Leti knew that any Undercity native would never just destroy perfectly good possessions. But she needed to make it seem as if her true idea was the woman's. The woman spoke up, "But, that's so wasteful. We spent good money on his stuff. I could never burn it."
Leti looked as if she were surprised by the logic and novelty of her comment. "You could just sell it then, get some of your money back! Korbil's place is just down the way."
The woman considered it, and smiled, "The bastard would hate that, having to buy his stuff back at twice the price. Alright, let's do it."
Thankfully, most of the stuff in the apartment was hers, so it didn't take long for them to gather up his things in a few large boxes. During this time, they exchanged names, pleasantries, and various tidbits about one another. Leti made sure to occasionally provide a comforting touch and a mildly lustful look at the woman, only to make it seem as if they were nothing. The trick was to keep them guessing.
Once everything was packed, the two woman lugged the stuff down to Korbil's shop. The woman wasn't a great haggler, and Korbil knew Leti from past dealings, and the two had a silent understanding. Leti helped the woman be comfortable with lower payouts, and Korbil would pay her the difference of what he would've actually paid. It was a win-win. The woman had a hefty haul of coin and bill now, tucking them safely away on her person, as they both turned to leave. Leti grabbed her share from Korbil, secretly, knowing that if he shorted her, it would be nothing to mention this slight to Keith.
"You really made this whole situation better Leti, if you hadn't showed up, I'd probably be trying to get him back by now."
Leti smiled, moving in a bit closer, hip to hip with Sandra, "It's nothing. When you've had nothing but bad men, you take care of the good women. Especially the beautiful ones." As they came closer to Leti's home, she knew it was time to depart, but she wanted an in for later. "I have to go home and get ready from work," making sure her face showed disappointment. As she turned to leave, she heard Sandra call out, "Leti, wait."
Smiling to herself, she turned back, waiting for her to speak. "Will I... Will I see you again?" Leti just smiled, slinking forward, before lightly placing her hands on either side of Sandra's face, pulling it close as she pressed their lips together, firmly, seeking her out. After a long moment, she pulled away, looking Sandra in the eyes, "Only if you want to. I'll be at the Dark and Stormy later tonight, do you know it?"
The woman nodded, "Good, then you know where to find me." With that, Leti turned and left, knowing she had the hook in deep. She took a round about way to get back home, slipping inside, sneaking into her and Ghost's room, and stashing her money away. She knew Ghost knew about her stash, but there would be so much hell if he touched even a penny of it. Once that was safely hidden, she made her way back to the group, assuming they'd worked out some sort of plan for this evening's work. It was about that time. She said nothing, not wanting to interrupt, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest.
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