Zoey Boey

-closed go away

that is gonna be a solid bump from me, my mans

The Curse of Sonina

well gang, looks like we got a mystery on our hands. i am interested in ur cool idea

Rogue Continuum [CLOSED PENDING REBOOT]

ive been here :)

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Dareen followed Fatima’s sweeping gesture and opened up the carriage door. Keeping it open with the back of her hand she allowed Fatima inside to the best of her ability and awkwardly sat down with the dress in her lap. Compressing one side of her lower lip she picked the thing up and set it floppily back down. As the coach doors closed behind Fatima the two were left in privacy. Once again she removed her hood to reveal her semi-frazzled black hair that ran in a braid along the side of her head. This revealed the pattern that was usually hidden by her hood that went up and around the back of her ears and vanished down the back of her neck.

"I mean, what’s first, I guess?” She asked the Queen. Fatima smiled kindly, a gesture of understanding and compassion for the discomfort she was sure the woman would experience. They were practically strangers after all. Fatima had not exactly lent herself to a good impression these past few days.

"Firstly you need to undress and I'll help you into the new one. A lady's maid always does up the laces so it would be impossible to do yourself." She reached out a hand to gently touch the woman's hair. "Once we've got you dressed well do your hair and make up. You'll be a whole new woman."

Dareen blinked at the touch but then nodded. "Okay, sure. Sure. Laces...got it." Dareen wasn’t a particularly modest person, but she realised this was the first time she had had an extended conversation with someone who wasn’t part of her company in...years. Since she was a teenager. Let alone having someone help her into new clothes.

Trying not to be too awkward Dareen vanished the hood she held took off and then cleared her throat. Unclasping the belts and straps that kept her clothes from being too loose and held her weapons, one by one the leather implements vanished. Crossing her arms she lifted her red long-sleeved shirt off her body, revealing the sleeveless chainmail tunic underneath. Her bare arms were covered in a line dot pattern similar to the one on her face, though much more intricate.There were also a few scars cut into her arms from long healed wounds. For a moment she hesitated but shaking her head she removed her underarmor, and with a clink and a clank that too vanished into nothingness. Now she was just in her pants, boots, and a white wrapping around her chest. Her torso was just as tattooed as her arms, with the lines doing a kind of swooping circular dance around her breasts and navel. There were ghosts of a few nicks here and there, but the most obvious scar was a particularly grievous one that had been carved to the right of her belly button and was four inches tall.

Face turning red against her will, Dareen spoke. "”Do I uh- how do pants work? With a dress?" She asked and then laughed quietly at her ignorance.

Fatima was utterly fascinated with the markings which swirled like stars over her traveling companion's body. Without thinking much she reached and and traced the dots along Dareen's side before pulling back with a faint apology. Dareen had frozen up a little bit but forced herself to relax. "Pants should be fine, the modified in such a way as to indicate the need for pants. Makes it easier with the height difference. I can finish the hem once it's on."

She lifted a pale cream blouse and handed it to the girl. "This first. And then we'll make the corset work. I'll tie it loose so you can move more easily in it." She pulled at strings on the under item in question. "It might be a bit short but it should work." She was saying it more to herself than to Dareen. "Does the blouse fit?" She turned from the corset to check that seams and movements were all in check. "Ever worn a corset before?"

The Pruulish witch lifted the blouse over her head and put it on " Yeah, it fits. A little small, but it’s fine.". Once again covered she seemed comfortable. Not many people had seen her markings before- let alone touched them. They shared the texture of her skin, of course- the dark red tattoos were inextricably etched into her brown skin. A permanent, inescapable reminder of her past, even more so than the scars given to her by her quarries. A scar could have come from anywhere- but the markings were very specific. They only came from one place.

"Um, a corset? I don’t think so." Her old red shirt vanished into nothingness as she spoke.

A devilish grin spread over Fatima's face. "You are in for a treat!" She directed Dareen how to stand, arms up while she laces the object around her middle, just over her chest. It stopped a bit short over her hip bones but it would be passable. Then Fatima began to tighten the laces, cinching Dareen's waist.

Dareen raised her arm to look at the enthusiastic Queen behind her. With a look of mild concern she asked, "Is this a treat?” She asked. "You wear these often, then?" She asked with a small wince.

"Only when forced," Fatima replied with a small laugh. "What do your tattoos mean?" Her chatter was idle and congenial as she finished tightening the bodice. Still loose and Dareen could breathe. But not exactly comfortable.

Dareen was a terrible liar. So instead, she only decided to give some of the story. "They are uh, a tradition. From where I come from." She said, staring into the middle distance. ”I got them when I was sixteen. They mean I am a warrior." She thought back to that long evening so many years ago, where she was told not to squirm as the artisan marked her in that glowing warm tent.

She finished up the laces, tying and tucking them away. Once satisfied with how the corset sat on Dareen's frame she then offered up the dress. "Over your head," she directed. "That is amazing. There are so many of them. It must have taken a great deal of time."

Dareen smirked and then somewhat clumsily followed Fatima’s direction, placing the dress loosely over herself. "Yeah. A great deal of time. Had to spend an entire biting on a wooden spoon.” This was one of those odd memories that was absolutely miserable upon living it, but that Dareen had come to look upon with a strange sense of fondness.

"Is this right?” The ex-mercenary asked, turning her back to Fatima.

"Yes, lovely!" She began to position the dress properly over Dareen and tying the laces in place so that it hugged her curves tightly. "What about the scar on your stomach. Was that part of it or were you attacked?" She knelt down in front of the woman, pulling a needle and thread from the air. "Keep your arms at your sides." She licked the thread before pushing it through the needles eye.

Dareen cleared her throat as the dress began to tighten. She didn’t answer for a moment, lowering her arms at her sides. "Uh, no. That a few years later in a fight.” That was the worst pain she had ever felt and the closet she had come to dying. Dareen was dancing around the true context of all these situations, avoiding telling Fatima who gave her the tattoos and who gave her the scar. Fatima didn’t yet know Dareen’s past as a mercenary and for now she would much rather keep it that way.

"Oh, you have lead a very exciting life it would seem. The proof is all over." She carefully, but with speed, hemmed the dress so that it hung correctly and with no frayed edges. It was shorter in the front, revealing Dareen's legs below the knee and longer in the back so that the light fabric would float behind her as she walked. "I'm sorry for asking but… what has you gathered here with us? Most I know and I think you've had this sort of conversation before my arrival… but your presence is baffling. That is not to say unwanted! Please don't think that. I just… you're different from the rest of us."

"Yeah, you could say that." As Fatima became more and more curious as to why the mercenary had joined this little cabal of aristocrats, Dareen’s throat was impeccably dry. "”W-well. I, uh..." Did this seriously have to happen while she was having a dress put on?

"...I have an interest in seeing the fall of Queen Dorothea. And Faeril decided to...to let me join her. It’s kind of a long story, you know?” She managed. If Fatima decided to ask Faeril, it was probably all over. No way Fatima would regard Dareen with anything but disgust if the matter of Dareen’s origins became apparent to her.

"That much is obvious." She said dryly. She finished the hem and cut the thread with a flick of her wrist. "I mean, why throw your lot in with this odd crew? There is much contention in the group, you are not kept to us in the way that I am to them. Take a seat." She gestured to one of the carriage seats as she stood. Fatima then produced a tiny latched trunk. "Face paint," she explained. "What I mean to ask is… what is keeping you here among us woman warrior."

Sitting down, Dareen couldn’t meet Fatima’s gaze, Instead she focused her attention on the tiny latched trunk. "I...well, where else would I go? You are the only people I know of who are going against Queen Dorothea, right?" Dareen asked, questioning her own truth.

"I suppose you're right. It's a common thought. Not so much action though." She set the box to the side before opening it to reveal an amazing array of beautiful bottles, tins and tubes in endless colors.

Dareen nodded. "People are scared, I guess. I...I know I was. " Admitting this felt good. "But we’re just getting started. Can’t all just be dresses and makeup." She joked, glancing over at the cosmetic arsenal Fatima had at her disposal.

Fatima grinned. "In any case, I'm glad you're here to help me set the world on fire. You've got a good energy." She opened various bottles and containers to find the right concoction of paints to apply to Doreen's face. "I don't want people to feel afraid of us anymore." She gently began to apply a coppery powder to the woman's face.

Dareen was about to say something but closed her mouth as Fatima began placing powder. Then Dareen closed her eyes as Fatima moved up her face and continued not to say anything, instead breathing slowly as if she was worried about inhaling the substance. In the meantime, she internally considered Fatima’s words. Good energy? That was a first. Did Fatima have some kind of magical energy detector? Or was it just a figure of speech?

Setting aside the powder, she then cocked her head to the side. "I don't think I have anything strong enough to hide your tattoos. It should be okay though. The powder will at least make them less obvious."
Dareen opened her eyes and looked at Fatima. "So...I could pass as a nobleman’s wife?" She pinched the shoulders of her dress and lifted them a little bit and shrugged. "Is there a mirror in there?". She placed the finishing touches of a pewter eye shadow, dark kohl, and a bright red lipstick.

"Here," she plucked the mirror from amongst the containers and handed it over. "Of course you could. You're very lovely."
Dareen touched her newly done up face in the mirror. She pulled down the skin on her cheek and opened her eye up wide. After a while she laughed mirthlessly. "I feel ridiculous, Fatima. But, hey, are we done now?" She said, still looking at herself in the mirror. It was like looking into some kind of bizarre alternate reality.

"Should be fine once you let your hair down. Yeah… we're done." Her voice was filled with sincerity when she spoke again. "You are quite marvelous my dear."

Dareen shrugged and smirked, letting the mirror fall into her lap and quirking her head at Fatima. Reaching up she undid the braids and knots of her hair and let it fall down to just past her chin, running her fingers through it like a comb to straighten it out a little. Swearing disbelievingly in her native tongue, she slapped Fatima crudely on the shoulder, a soldier reassuring a comrade of their deeds.

"Thanks for the effort, Fatima. Let’s hope this is worth it, eh?" With that she stood up straight, put on her best dignified face, and left the carriage.

---Shalador---

Now as Ranina Rentrick stepped out of the carriage, all done up and "pretty", Dareen followed her "husband" into down. She tried to keep her back straight, and as Jandar would instruct, her arm looped through his. Trying to put on a dispassionate, formal stride, Dareen tipped up her nose and observed the town. Perhaps she was a bit too observant and bit too aware of her surroundings, she pulled off a somewhat convincing illusion. Now she just had to keep her mouth shut and let hubby here do all the talking. The guards here were clearly just hired goons some aristocrat plucked off the street. Nothing more than warm bodies to scare off the rabble and be meat shields for material possession. Still, they were antsy. Dareen tried not to look at them for too long, though. Try to act as though she was letting the hobbling hag and her spouse worry about the troublesome little things like that.

Of course there was the distinct scent of witchblood on the air aswell. All of this combined to fill the Pruulish young woman with the sense that something was about to go wrong, and a fight would start. If so she would feel woefully vulnerable. Dareen brushed a strand of black hair out of her eyes. When was the last time she ever had to do that? Besides when washing it, her hair was permanently tied tightly up into it's braid. Now it hung freely and bobbed up and down and to the side like some kind of maniac. Just begging to caught on or by something.

It was nice, though, to go unchallenged. From her brief experience of travelling alone, everyone was eager to make snide remarks and prove their worth against the woman warrior that dared enter their town. But now, the proverbial shoe was on the other foot. Though it was cheating, since they were obviously more wary of Jandar than they were of her. Whether it be her fellow mercenaries or her fake husband, if she wanted to travel somewhere with any modicum of respect she had to be side by side with a man. How...annoying. Perhaps this annoyance in the vague direction of the entire world would add to her persona.

Every once in a while she had to re-check her gait, resisting the urge to drop her hand to where her scabbard would be or to slouch her shoulders. How did people do this all day? The sooner this was over, the better. Thankfully she wasn't alone, though she got the sense that Fatima derived some sort of cheeky joy from her Ugly Queen persona, and Jandar was probably just acting as he always did except with a different hairstyle or whatever.

Sighing, Dareen kept her eyes foreward. Fatima began to speak, but trailed off. Dareen turned her head to look back at Fatima and raised her eyebrows before looking at the road ahead.

🌠 Once Upon A Time 🌠(Concluded)

Annabelle Lafeyette

Annie's parent's house

Locking the door and peeking through the blinds, Annie tried to calm herself down. "Uh, yes, hi. There's some guy going around trying to get people to come in his car with him." Annie described the location of where she encountered Merlin. Holding her side she began to pace nervously around her quiet house. Doug, calming down after all the excitement, hopped up onto a nearby couch.

Annie began to try and put together a description of the man and his car in her mind. "Please hurry, he was talking to a girl when I, uh, ran away. He tried to get me to come with him, too. I dunno- he's, he's weird." Annie began to wonder about the other strange things that had happened today. The letter. The weird images that popped into her head. Those were- illusions. Fake. Annebelle began to reconstruct her normal reality by rejecting what had just happened. Focusing herself on the material, Annie was trying to stop a possible criminal from capturing people. Then she would go to college and everything would be normal. Everything would be normal!

Anyone up for a game of Mafia? (How to Get Away With Murder Edition)

I guess the option to not lynch anyone? If that's what that means.

I think the best option is nabbing another lurker or two. JOIN US

[HIGH CASUAL] ► Her Majesty's Spirit

The Ballroom

---

^{August 31st, Sunset | An Entrance | Fellow Guests}

Ellinor Myren stuck out from the crowd. Though she imagined most of the people that were to do the fighting would stand out, the Moorish girl's total lack of formality caused her to part the crowd a little bit. She was wearing the furs of a couple of white wolves she had hunted, aswell as leathers and clothes from various beasts. Her short blonde hair had been combed recently in an attempt to seem worthy of being a guest of such an auspicious event. A headband was wrapped around her forehead, a few inches above her arching, thick dirty blonde eyebrows and sky blue eyes. Her face was sharp, with a nose that rounded off and upwards at the end above a set of pale pink lips that had been parted on the left by a scar recieved long ago. There was a particularly deep healed gash along the right side of her face. It caught the shadows as she peered from side to side. As if her rural clothing wasn't enough, as far as women went she was tall and strongly built, standing at 5'11 with broad shoulders. The Moorish warrior's mouth dropped open as she stared wide eyes at the opulence around her. Still, her outlandish appearence wasn't the thing that made her feel isolated. No weapons were allowed at the event, and Ellinor had complied. She felt naked without a shield strapped on her back and the axe in it's proper leather loop that now hanged limply on her right side. But if she had been caught with a hidden dagger it would have given a bad impression. Not to mention hiding a dagger in a first place was an impolite and rude thing to do. Ellinor wanted to be respectful- especially for the hostess of this particular opulent event.

Her boots clunked noisily on the marble flooring as she wandered into the audacious room. Some of the noble guests gave her accomodating smiles. They all knew why she was here, indeed, she was one of the honored guests. Ellinor smiled meekly back at them and tried to get out of their view. The shield-maiden felt out of place- but it was the first of many sacrifices that would be required on this journey. Oh, yes, Elly thought with a sardonic waggle of her head. What a sacrifice. So terrible to be treated to live music, delicious food, and a night of luxury. Woe is me!

All internal jokes aside, Elly's stomach grumbled as she caught side of the ridiculous cornucopia of food. Smiling she quickly plucked the leather gloves off her hands. Her fingers were strong and calloused, and she immediately went to the meat section. Begging the pardon of those nearby, the tall woman had to restrain herself from falling into the ravenous eating habits of her home land. She was among nobler company. Putting on a dignified pose she plucked a drumstick from the cornucopia and placed it on her plate.

"You're supposed to use these," an older gentlemen next to her offered humorously, apparently waiting for the obviously out of place girl to make a slip up. He was holding some kind of metallic claw.

"Ah. Of course. Thank you," She spoke with a Moorish accent, giving her voice a unique borderline sing song quality, with the words sounding like they were getting caught in the back of her nose. She accepted the advice and began to place various slabs of meat on her plate, then she got the potatoes and the vegetables. Elly was a hearty eater. A night of indulgence in preparation for the long weeks ahead.

With a great harrumph she almost broke a chair as she flopped down, placing her plate onto the table with a loud noise. Immediately she shrunk into her shoulders a little bit, glancing around. Fortunately most of the people around her were sympathetic to her plight. After all, they would be just as out of place in a Moorish festivity.

Slotting a piece of turkey into her mouthh Elly smiled and glanced around. People chit-chatted away near her. An eldery woman dressed in refinery met Elly's gaze and smiled lightly.

"'Ey there," Elly greeted with an upwards nod of her chin, swallowing her food. "My name's Elly." She reached across the table and extended her hand. The noble stuck her fingers forward gently, Elly clasped them and gave them a stern shake, then sat back into her chair.

"Hello, dear. My name's Sabrina Pendleton. Are you one of the champions setting off a journey tonight,"

"Aye. What gave it away?" Elly said with a smirk, opening her arms as if to gesture to her battle-ready attire.

The woman laughed politely. Elly was trying to make nice but she knew her type. Could never tell if they were being genuine or not. "Well, thank you for your service." She said.

"No problem, no problem at all. Say, I wasn't allowed to bring any weapons in, but look at this pretty little thing." She pointed the tip of the refined silver knife upwards to the sky. "Knew a lad who killed three angry boars with a knife no smaller than this. Boards the sizes of horses, he claims, but I ain't so sure about that last bit. Still, he brought back some hell of a pelts." She grinned. "The knife he killed them with was too small to skin them, so he had to make a bone knife outta their tusks. That part, at least, is true- he let me hold it. Lad's name was Ulfric, went by Ulfric the Boar after that." Satisfied at her story telling she began to indulge in her meal once more.

"Really? That is...fascinating." Sabrina said, looking the woman sitting across from her up and down. An older gentlemen with a bushy mustache sat down next to Sabrina. "Have you met my husband?" She asked.

"Hey there, I'm Elly." She said, reaching across the table for a handshake. The man stared at her indignantly before cautiously moving out his hand to do the same. They gave each other a firm handshake and apparently whatever doubts he had in his head vanished.

"Hello there, Elly. I'm Artemis Pendleton. Pleasure to make your acquiantence. You are from the Isle of Moore, I assume?"

"Aye. You?"

"Thelan, of course. Are you eager for the journey ahead? Were I a younger man, no doubt I would be joining you." His wife tsked and held his arm. "What? It's true. I was quite the fighter in my day."

"I don't doubt it, Herr Pendleton." Elly said, gesturing abstractly towards the gentleman in a way that seemed to please him. The three of them got on to chatting. Elly paid her due in the conversation but every once in a while her eyes wandered over their heads. No doubt Alice had clocked Elly the second she walked into the room, but the Moorish woman couldn't say the same. Alice probably had her hair all done up and was wearing some fancy dress. Plus, she had grown into an adult woman since the time they had seen each other. Elly sometimes she felt like she hadn't changed much at all. Perhaps that would be true were it not for her increase in size and her face's two prominent scars that were unfamiliar to Alice.

This whole trip had her nervous and excited. Nervous, of course, because it was going to be a long and arduous journey. Excited, because this was her life's purpose. To find the Queen and preserve the fragile peace between nations. It was a long shot, sure. They didn't even know where she was. But they would find her, and bring her home. Whatever reason it was she left, Queen Anice had a responsibility to her people to stop the war. It was inevitable. King Charles sat lazily in the corner, casually terrorizing his servants. Truth be told, people like him irked Ellinor. Still, she wasn't fighting for him, was she? Her brothers and sisters back home. Their parents, their friends, their siblings. Many would be lost in the wars to come, and many would grieve. She had to prevent it. At all costs.

"...and that is the story of how I earned my one and only medal," Herr Pendleton concluded heartily.

"Incredible," Elly agreed, realising she had only half paid attention. Apparently the elderly gentleman was a sailor type.

"Well, you're not half bad a story teller yourself, young lady. With people like you representing us I'm sure we'll..." He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "I'm sure you'll find Queen Anice in no time."

Elly nodded somberly. "Aye. I certainly hope so." Those at the table paused their conversation to carry on their meal somberly. The Moorish woman couldn't quite pinpoint what had soured the mood, but the spark of storytelling had died for a moment. Her thoughts drifted to other things. Ellinor began to wonder what kind of allies would be accompanying Alice on her journey. Obviously, Ellinor. But as far as she knew, Ellinor was the only Moorish warrior on the journey. The rest were back home gearing up to go burn down the fields of Alovia, something that no doubt filled the minds of those Alovian merchants who cast wayward glances at the back of Elly's blonde head. Who else was there? Thelians, of course. Alice must have picked the finest soldiers of Thelan to accompany her. Alovians? She was wary of them and their kinship with the witches. A witch or two must be coming with them on their trip, Elly thought grimly. With a sigh she picked at a piece of greenery on her plate with a fork. Ellinor wasn't sure how she'd ever get along with a witch. She would have to try, though, for Alice, and for the cause. Besides, if they agreed to go on this quest, they couldn't be all bad, could they? If Alice had picked them out, she trusted her judgement. A lot can change, though. Still, from letters Elly recieved every so often, Alice seemed to be mostly the same, if wiser. Elly wrote back to Alice far less often than she would have liked. She never was good at reading or writing. Fortunately, her literary skillset was not the one being sought after on this day.

The Gauntlet

Natalia

Natalia fired with grim satisfaction. Finally. The beast was unintelligent. It would attempt to put distance between the gunfire and itself. While that may slow down it's demise, it would be inevitable. It had no where to run. Perhaps the dwarf thought otherwise, and deployed his mechanisms to force the spider creature back on the ground. Natalia wasn't sure if this was right play or not. Perhaps, had it stayed up in it' webs, it would have found a way to escape from all of them.

It didn't matter now. The creature was on it's way. Hoping to end this fight quickly, Natalia levelled her machine guns and began to fire, only for the infernal webs of the animal to gum up the inner workings of the machine. Unfortunate. She could not retracted the miniguns into the Toolbox, they were stuck.

The engineer grunted as the spider slammed into her. It stuck it's legs against her Powered Armor and began to try to dismantle the machine. There were safe guards against this. Natalia's arm was sticking through some what of a roll cage in the chest of the machine. Were the arms of the Powered Armor to be ripped off, Natalia would automatically recede her real arms inside of the roll cage where she could continue to pilot the machine easily. But without an arm, the bare socket could be more easily penetrated, and more importantly she would not be able to fight as effeciently. If the arm was ripped off, it could potentially be reattatched thanks to nanotechnology- but not until the fight was over and the Powered Armor had a chance to collect itself.

Either way, it was only a matter of time until the creature was able to kill Natalia. The engineer registered this fact calmly. Her only chance was that her allies continue to fight it. Considering how easily the spider creature was able to limit anyone's mobility, any attempt to escape would most likely be futile. Instead, Natalia decided to once again try and crush the woman-shaped growth on the outside of the spider.

While the spider focused most of it's energy on her right arm, the Powered Armors left clenched fist came crashing down again and again on the spider, hoping to pummel it to death.

De'kae, the Druid

The Druid Elf was in a dreamless coma of which she would retain no memory. Katelin had managed to stop the bleeding. The holes cut in Kay's leaf armor would slowly begin to knit themselves closed. Sparkles of green energy crackled off the wounds. The burned flesh began to return to it's normal peachy color. The color began to return to Kay's face. The Druid Elf began to stir as the pain faded and consciousness attempted to return.

However, the phenomenon faded. Without direct access to sunlight, Kay had exhausted all of her powers. It would take a moment for them to recharge. As a result, Kay moaned painfully and once again went still, the injuries too dire to speedily recover from. The only sign of life was her surprisingly strong heart beat that feriociously, defiantly pumped blood through her veins, and the slow rising and falling of her chest as she raggedly breathed in and out. There was nothing more for Katelin to do, the small green and white shape on the ground was of little concern to the spider-beast now.

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okay! :)

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Operation: Ground the Harpy

Chloe Bridgette Cakebread-Yonaka

At some point during the flight, young Miss Cakebread 'shut her yap' and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms behind her head. Almost elbowing Kiara in the process, she smiled apologetically, but then closed her eyes and leaned back. Suddenly, a swing song began to play throughout the plane. Sourceless, the upbeat pop music rang pleasantly throughout the narrow space.

Hit that jive Jack
Put it in your pocket till I get back
Going downtown to see a man
And I ain't got time to shake your hand

Chloe began to hum along, nodding her head up and down. As the song reached it's second verse she glanced over at Kiara, the smile never leaving her face. It wasn't a fake smile, though it was more of a habit of her face rather than anything she was consciously doing. The muscles of her cheeks just seemed to naturally twitch upwards. "I love music. This one's Nat King Cole. You know~" She said, very briefly going into a sing song voice. The music in her voice vanished as quickly as it came, though, and the british woman began to speak normally once again.

Chloe brought her right arm down and pulled at her lips with her right finger, artificially tightening her smile. Then she moved her thumb on the inside of her mouth and flicked it outwards. Pop.

"I think it's true what me mum used to say. Keep doin' that silly face, little lady, and it'll get stuck that way. I didn't believe her at the time, but maybe it's true." She said, referring to her seemingly permanent cheeky grin. Curious, she turned her head directly towards Kiara and reset her expression to neutral. Blankly she silently stared at the young woman next to her for a long couple of seconds. The only sound was groovy swing tunes; which added a surreal element to the whole thing.

"Cohme, comrade. Whe fight for de Soviet Union. Dees time, the revolution will go wehll, I promize." She said, adopting a shitty slavic accent and keeping her face stern. Then she giggled again and the smirk returned. She wondered if that would finally provoke a reaction of the russian man on the other side of the plane. Jonesing slightly, Chloe reached into her breastpocket and pulled out the packet of cigarettes only to immediately place them back where they were. A strange habit that Kiara would notice had been happening with increasing frequency as the trip went on. As the plane began to descend, Chloe straightened up and glanced cautiously out the window.

"Oi oi, eyes up everyone," She said as a vocal confirmation of the end of their trip. Grunting with the landing, she didn't cast a glance at the pilot. Following the other two out of the plane, Chloe stumbled into the open air. Burning hay bales had marked the landing zone, and the french fighters were battling the flames. Hopefully, their approach had gone unnoticed.

"Bloody hell, fuckin' finally, eh?" She complained in good humor, grimacing as she stretched her arms up high. Her back cracked from the strain, and then she leaned all the way down and touched the toes of her boots without bending her legs, groaning from satisfaction. Standing up straight, with practiced speed she reached into her front pocket and produced a cigarette and a lighter. In a matter of seconds she was puffing the thing from her lips. It hit and pleasure spiked in her system. Relief from the pressure behind her eyes, and a newfound alertness. Smoke 'em if you got 'em.

Leaving the cigarette in her mouth she cracked her neck and walked towards the nearest frenchman. "Well, we're here. What's first?" She asked.