natha: (Default)
ɴᴀᴛʜᴀ orbiters ❰ mod collective ❱ ([personal profile] natha) wrote in [community profile] nysalogs2018-02-21 09:48 pm

( event ) FIRE & BLOOD

The atmosphere has been tense in both cities ever since the new batch of refugees were shot down out of the sky. Natives and refugees alike will note that things are steadily growing worse and worse... until suddenly, the tension snaps. Chaos erupts on one seemingly ordinary night and will continue until early March, when it all comes to a head. The question is, as always... what will you do?

You may submit an AC-eligible thread set in either Olympia or Wyver for 1 OLYMPIA REP POINT OR 1 WYVER REP POINT respectively, HERE or HERE, so long as the thread involves your character complying with their faction of choice's goals and responsibilities.

As a note, faction compliance in this case refers to actions that benefit the faction in the long term. Meaning that while citizens might be revolting against one another temporarily, assisting their fellow people and business will be considered as faction compliance for the purposes of submitting REP. (For example, raiding the palace in Olympia would earn 1 Wyver REP, whereas helping put out the fires in the palace would earn 1 Olympia REP.)

You may write threads and prompts in both cities, but ICly, they should take place on different days. Please also note that travel between factions is heavily scrutinized during the events of this log. If your character travels between cities, please report it here.
EMBERS IN OUR BLOODLINES    
CHAOS ERUPTS. The city hasn't been exactly peaceful for some time — discontented grumbles have been directed at anyone who exhibits even the slightest amount of pro-Wyver (anti-Olympian) sentiment — but now, the tensions have not simply worsened: they've outright snapped.

It wouldn't be unusual to start your day to the sound of breaking glass. Perhaps it's a neighbor's window, or if you're truly unlucky, it's your own. Regardless, it's clear that there are a number of people who decide that violence is the answer. Well-armed shops such as The Sharper are left alone, but The Silk Wyrms, The Wyvernest, and other smaller businesses aren't so lucky. Visit the tailor, and you'll find that someone has broken in and slashed many of the in-progress custom orders; at the dragon cafe, someone has set many of the miniature dragons loose in a bid to purge the city of anything tainted by Wyver's influence. Many shopkeeps are fearful that the culprits might return. They're offering good silver for anyone who will retrieve stolen goods, round up the missing dragons, or find proof of who the culprits were — and for protection in case the culprits return. Linger, and you'll be in a position to potentially stop a repeat attack when the rioters come back with torches and bricks.

Members of the Royal Guard have their hands full with the fights breaking out to attend to every instance of violence against the businesses. Shouting in the squares escalates into bloody brawls — and if you spend any time outside, you'll soon see why. There's a strange mist in the most populated parts of the city, which you may recognize as having similar effects to the waters of Flona Cove that lower one's inhibitions. It spurs those who would usually agree to disagree into shouting matches, and influences people who would normally shout into throwing punches. Members of the Guard, usually a mediating force, are joining the fray themselves.

Even you aren't immune to the mist's effects. Whether you're protecting your home or place of employment, chasing down vandals, rounding up escaped dragons from the dragon cafes, or even just observing what's going on with someone else, you're likely doing it much more aggressively than you typically would... but then, this level of aggression seems to be becoming Olympia's new normal.



SINNERS TO PLAY AS SAINTS. The theaters are miraculously untouched, but The Life and Death of Nithor the Exalted is no longer being put on. Instead, passers-by are being pulled onstage to play out other scenes from Olympia's glorious history. Those who don't want to play along don't have much of a choice; those orchestrating the scenes have people out in the crowds to bring people up by force if necessary.

The base scenario is simple enough: the noble Olympian puts the pathetic Wyvern in their place. Perhaps it's a fight scene: the Olympian comes out on top, of course, and the crowd roars for blood. Wyver weapons are only props, however, but the Olympian weapons? They're very, very real. Or perhaps it's a callback to when the Olympian people marked captured Wyverns with brands to assert their dominance — there is real fire, and real brands, on stage.

If you pass as Olympian, you may be pressed to perform. If you don't want to really hurt someone, you'd best learn how to fake it — refuse to play your part, and the crowd will very quickly turn against you. If you're too obviously not Olympian, or if they recognize you as someone who went off-script last time (and they have very good memory), you'll likely be pressed into the role of an unfortunate Wyvern. Hopefully your co-star is gentle...

Break a leg. Literally, as the case may be.



CRITICAL CONDITION. With all the chaos, it's only a matter of time before people start to seek medical attention. However, along the way to The Sanctuary, they'll be faced with an almost insurmountable barricade. It isn't immediately obvious who put it up, but it's clear that nobody will be getting through it without significant effort.

Approach, and a voice will ring out warning you to keep back. It's one of the employees at the clinic; she has a crossbow in her shaking hands, and if pressed, she'll admit that they put up the barricade to keep out rioters. She understands that there are people who need their help, but the decision was made to keep themselves and their supplies safe so that when the dust settles, they can set out en masse and help more people than they could if they were raided.

If you're accompanied by someone with grievous injuries, or if you're terribly injured yourself, you may be able to convince her to let you in for a quick patch-up, but they're not giving any medicines out. If you need more supplies, you'll have to figure out another way of getting it — either by overpowering the woman on watch and raiding the clinic yourself, or distracting her so that other members of your group can sneak in and take what they need.

Making matters worse is the gigantic vulture-like creature, much larger than the birds in Murkwell Hollow... and much meaner. This beast doesn't wait for eye contact before it attacks: it swoops down out of the sky when people are gathered at the barricade, snatching up anyone it can grab in its talons, fixing on whoever's closest. However, if someone who killed a vulture is present, it pursues them with relentless determination. If not dealt with, it will attempt to eat the dead and the injured without discrimination. It can be driven off with high difficulty using weapons, magical abilities (except fire, which doesn't affect it), and the terrain to your advantage. It will retreat before it can be killed, presumably so that it can regroup and harry the next batch of people to get close to the barricade.

As it retreats it will drop feathers that can be sold to the Institute for study for 100 silver; one feather per character, please. Sales can be reported here.



PALACE BURNS. Chaos reigns for the better part of a week, and toward the end, it escalates past the point of rioting in the streets — the violence reaches Empress Simwe's palace. In the gardens where Olympians and refugees alike had lit lanterns in unity and remembrance mere weeks before, one careless (or perhaps not so careless) flame catches, spreading to the rest of the grounds and to one of the palace walls. The members of the Royal Guard, already stretched thin, are too preoccupied with trying to contain the blaze to stop anyone from pouring in through the breach.

It's an opportunity that looters and dissidents do not pass up.

Follow them in, and you'll find the elegant surroundings being torn apart. Many of the rioters are those who have it out for Simwe and are hunting for her. As she's nowhere to be found, they settle for the next best thing: setting torch to her portraits. Portraits of the late emperor, on the other hand, are left untouched. The vandals are incredibly vocal in their displeasure with Simwe's policies, and almost fanatical in their opinion that life in Olympia would be much better if Simwe had perished in her husband's place. They turn to violence when the frightened maids and other servants don't have the answers they want as they leave a trail of fire in their wake. Will you use them as a smokescreen for your own venture, or will you intervene?

Further inside, the sticky-fingered will find furnishings, clothing, jewelry — anything that isn't bolted down is fair game. In the library, the gilded titles of priceless books glitter on the shelves; in the wine cellar, Simwe's personal collection of extremely fine vintages waits to be sampled; a mirrored room furnished entirely with pillows is draped in lacy underthings; fragrant salts and bottles of perfume sit in a steam-filled bathing room; in the treasury, looters are hard at work squirrelling away silver and carrying off golden baubles. Nobody looks too closely at anyone's face unless given a reason to, but in the morning, heads will certainly roll. You could make off with your own treasure from the palace with none the wiser, or you could stop one of the looters — maybe it's even a fellow refugee — and turn them in to the guard to help restore some order to this night of chaos.

In the depths of the treasury, there is a group trying to get past a sealed door. They're an unpleasant, volatile lot, and they make a lot of noise about how if they can just get their hands on the heart of the legendary dragon, they'll be able to wipe Wyver from the map once and for all and put someone competent on the throne. After multiple failed attempts, they start offering a reward of 50 silver to anyone who makes an attempt at opening the door.

ABOUT THE DOOR: The inner treasury door is enchanted to stand up to all manner of assaults, both magical and physical. Any attempts to dispel the enchantment will fail, but characters are welcome to make attempts in exchange for cash. While minor force will be harmlessly absorbed by the shields on the door, anything of great strength will be reflected back at its point of origin — so be ready to dodge!

Whether you help the Guard put out the fire, steal from the palace, try and get past the enchanted door, or make attempts to stop the looters, your actions may have consequences later. Please report any significant actions you take here.

NOTE: Characters are welcome to steal a single minor, setting-appropriate item from the palace. Mod approval is not required. Any items of greater import in the palace are locked in a vault and inaccessible.

BLOOD ON MY HANDS LIKE THE BLOOD IN YOU    
FOR GLORY. Meanwhile, in Wyver, the holiday celebrating Nithor's death may have finished, but the spirit is still high. The citizens, eagerly awaiting the results of the contest from earlier in the month, congregate at a large stadium in the East End on the morning of the 21st and encourage refugees to join them — not only will the contest winner be announced, but there will be a series of physical trials to select Wyver's best and brightest. This yearly event is considered the true end to the holiday. They honor those who excel at the arts — whether they be standard arts or the art of combat — and with these trials, they will honor those who excel on the battlefield. King Shanrian himself speaks to kick off the festivities, holding a distinctly human skull in his hands the entire time he's in view.

Everyone, join me in praising the winners of our citywide contest! I was, heh... quite delighted with the meat jelly dish submitted by citizens Clair and Frederick. Such creativity! Meanwhile, dear Shenya loved hearing the beautiful music provided by Diva and Tani Umenosuke. And as you all well know, his vote is my vote.

Now I speak to you on a more serious note: I encourage all of you to join the legacy of those who helped bring down the mad and oppressive Nithor. I ask you all to join the trials. Show the world that we are a people of honor. For we do not seek glory, but fairness, liberty, and truth. Citizens, do you have what it takes to represent your home?



Signing up is simple. Interested parties are to submit their name at the registration desk, and by high noon, the festivities will kick off in full.

First up is a tournament — to thin the numbers down and ensure that only the best of the best make it to the end, participants are matched to a fight until one side is incapacitated. The air is thick with excitement, and bouts continue all day and through the night. Vendors have set up temporary stalls to sell food, toiletries, pillows, and blankets for those who don't wish to miss even a moment of the action.

If you're participating, you will take part in three fights before the finalists are determined; if you are not, you will be free to watch from the audience or, if you're acquainted with people who are fighting, to go behind the scenes to assist them by bringing them water or medicine between matches or even just give them moral support. Either way, you'll notice a slight shift in the air as time goes by.

Midway through the preliminary matches, the atmosphere changes from enthusiastic to outright bloodthirsty. Observers who were content to see a knock out will call for blood. People will start to clamor for the losers to lose their lives, and audience members will find themselves itching for a fight. One wrong look and the fighting might not just be constrained to the ring.

Make it through to the finals, and your trial will be more focused on teamwork: after all, the assassins who took down Nithor had to work together to get their job done. Finalists are paired off to face a variety of beasts, some from Wyver, some from Olympia, and some from other, far-flung parts of the isles. There is no set number of winners — anyone who performs well will be honored with a prize of silver at the end — but the beasts are ferocious, and it will take coordination and exceptional skill to make it out unscathed.

Either way, it's sure to be a spectacle.



HEARTY DIETS. The city's atmosphere does not become peaceful with the conclusion of the trials. Wherever you turn, the people around you seem to be more combative than usual - and in this city, that can be quite the feat.

To mark the end of another successful set of trials, the shamans of the Altar of Volkkra make dragon's blood, which they partake in for one of their rituals, more widely available to the public. Most drink it straight, although there are some who take it mixed in with other drinks. Either way, the effects are the same:
Drinking dragon's blood will feel like drinking liquid fire. It will burn the entirety of its way down and leave you with a presence in your chest that you will carry with you for three days before wearing off. It is a warmth that seems to imbue you with the strength and confidence of the dead dragon. The adrenaline will minimize any great pains, and you will have the sense that the path you choose is right.

Unfortunately, there is a downside. The dragon blood will keep you restless until the effects wear off. Confidence will turn into mindless arrogance. If you and your companion both drink the blood, you will butt heads because you will believe the other is wrong. Additionally, you may experience the need to hoard. The shamans say it is a trial you must endure to learn not to overindulge, but to someone who has never drank before, the feeling will be overwhelming.
Dragon's blood isn't the only variety to partake in. This time of year, the blood of a variety of monsters can be found to drink; it's said that consuming a creature's blood will imbue you with that creature's power. Whether this is true or not remains to be seen — some insist it's a rumor, while others swear its veracity — but fueled by the confidence the dragon's blood has drawn out of them, the natives are very insistent that you try it out, and some may even challenge you to a blood-drinking contest.

There are some who say that they've managed to procure the blood of Olympians, and that ingesting it will sap the strength of the Olympian people and bestow it upon Wyver instead. Some Wyvern natives aren't willing to allow the blood of their most hated enemies past their lips and would instead use Olympian blood to paint out scenes of their destruction, either on the walls like the murals or on charms from the Altar of Volkkra, as it is said to have the same effect. If you're offered some of this "paint," it's probably better to accept. After all, refusal would be very un-Wyvernlike, and you wouldn't want to be marked as the next target for someone hoping to procure Olympian blood, would you?



FANNING FLAMES. Since the trials, natives have lit bonfires throughout the city as a way of showing support for their favorite contenders; the belief is that as long as the flames continue to be fed, the contender will continue to fight well. Even now that the trials are over, the flames burn bright. These contenders are Wyver's hope of victory over Olympia, after all; isn't it better to keep the fires ablaze until they've brought the Olympians to their knees?

But it isn't just wood that they're using for kindling. This time they want a more personal offering. Many of the natives will shed their own blood to throw into the fire, and still more roam the streets in search of people to feed to the flames. You might find yourself one of their targets if you've been too noticeably traveling between the cities on a regular basis, or if you've made the mistake of donning the Olympian colors of white and gold even in a subtle way. Perhaps you come off as a loyal citizen of Wyver, and they've tapped you to assist them with feeding a person to the flames — If you refuse, you might face scrutiny yourself.

Chaos is on the rise. It's a bastardization of celebration that has long since gotten out of hand, although few seem inclined to try and contain it. Those who do are mainly shouted down or silenced by other means, and if you're looking to assist them in quelling the unrest, you'll have to be subtle lest you wind up facing the citizens' ire.

Luckily, there is something to provide a distraction: a gigantic vulture-like creature, much larger than the birds from Murkwell Hollow, has come to hunt . When it descends, it makes to grab anyone with its talons, with one exception — if anyone who killed a vulture in Murkwell is nearby, it will ignore the others and focus its attempts on tearing them apart with a relentless, single-minded determination. If not driven off, the dead and the injured will become its next meal, and it has no qualms about diving into the flames to snatch up bodies, as it's unharmed by fire. It can be driven off with high difficulty using weapons, magical abilities (other than fire), and the terrain to your advantage, but will retreat before it can be killed so that it can regroup and make another attempt at snatching up bodies later.

As it retreats it will drop feathers that can be sold to the Altar of Volkkra for experimentation for 100 silver; one feather per character, please. Sales can be reported here.



BEASTLY EXHIBITS.The shamans of Volkkra, perhaps under the influence of dragon's blood, have their own way of dealing with the unrest. Throughout the week, those protesting the chaos start to vanish, and either from rumors or direct observation it will soon become obvious why: they're being brought to the main Altar of Volkkra, all the way up on Namarak Summit. If you have been attempting to calm people down, you might just find yourselves taken; otherwise, you can tail the shamans to the summit to find what's going on for yourself.

Those taken to the main altar are blindfolded and thrust into the labyrinthine halls without a flame to guide their way. Shamans guard the entrances and exits; inside, all light but that of the Eternal Flame have been extinguished. Other shamans, who take part in the rumored experiments, roam the halls with wicked-looking knives in search of new test subjects. If they come across you, you'll need to either fight or run.

It is possible to escape this, either by overpowering them or by using your wits. It's even possible to find your way to the entrance and fight your way past the shamans guarding it — but the when the first person sets foot out of the halls, the shamans call for backup. Menacing shrieks and roars sound from inside the mazelike halls, and strange, mishmashed creatures emerge from the darkness.

They're angry, and they're willing to lash out at both refugee and shaman alike.

ABOUT THE MONSTERS: They are amalgamations of people and creatures from all over the isles, and each one is different. One might have the head of a Duldrum, the torso and arms of a man, and the lower half of a Glowing Snake; another might look like a Wispurr with a second head of an Unlucky Cat grafted onto it, and the abilities to match. The shamans seem to have been mixing and matching the features and abilities of both named and unnamed creatures as they see fit, and they've whipped them up into a frenzy — these chimeras crave blood, and will not stop until their targets are dead, or they are.

They can be killed with medium difficulty using your own weapons, supplies from the Altar, and any abilities you might possess; survive, and the shamans will let you go with 200 silver as compensation, having decided that you've proven your worth and that your strength may be an asset to Wyver in the future. If your character successfully kills a chimera, please report it here.


FINAL OOC NOTES    
An AC-eligible thread in which your character complies with their faction's goals for 1 REP POINT FOR EITHER OLYMPIA OR WYVER may be submitted from this log. SUBMIT THE THREAD FOR OLYMPIA OR WYVER HERE OR HERE RESPECTIVELY BY MARCH 14th 11:59 PM EST.

We will no longer be providing overflow posts. In an event where the post hits CAPTCHA, players are advised to move threads to an overflow post on their character journals or create their own catch-all post. These threads remain eligible for AC, AC Rewards, and REP.

1 SILVER = 1 US DOLLAR.
almaredemptoris: (Default)

[personal profile] almaredemptoris 2018-03-15 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[A few tricks indeed, but this of course he prefers to keep close to the vest. He smiles politely, saying nothing of the butchered proverb; if his smile is strained, it shows little in the warmth of his countenance.]

I wouldn't want to impose, Monsieur Buckland.

[Jean Valjean has lived by the principle of minimizing his contact with those who stride the outside world. He maintains only the veneer of sociability so as not to arouse the suspicions one naturally casts upon an outsider, while shuttering the windows through which his life might more closely be viewed. The risks of being known are perhaps less pronounced in this new world, yet old habits and old troubles are not shed so easily.]
baguablade: (76)

[personal profile] baguablade 2018-03-15 11:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Cain goes tumbling into the ashes, yelping as bits of bone poke at him, as soot smears over his clothes and his skin. He's filthy already, black streaks on his face, and he spits soot from his mouth, but at least his head is clearing. Enough that he glares up at Takasugi, eyes burning as fiercely as the flames behind him.

Sweat drips down his neck. He can feel the heat of the fire at his back, bare feet away. One good shove would send him right into the pyre.
]

If it's such a waste, then don't burn me. [ He takes a darting look around, eyeing the crowd uneasily. They're all hanging back, wary of Takasugi, but still eager to see a sacrifice fed to the flames. ] Or are you just that eager to have the honor for yourself?
phykios: (♆ mmmokay.)

[personal profile] phykios 2018-03-15 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[ oh, percy wishes prophecy were too absurd to exist. his life would've been so different. ]

We are having a hard time of it here, [ he points out. peggy's in pain just breathing, and percy's bleeding on her couch, this isn't a great day for anyone. but he'll concede, ] But I'll admit, it's kind of nice that none of the monsters around here have out for me, specifically. Where I come from, they go out of their way to hunt down half-bloods.

[ he doesn't love the monsters here obviously, but it is incredibly weird that they're so equal opportunity about attacking people. one of the many reasons he doesn't feel right not jumping into the fray. he's not about to start hiding behind mortals to do the fighting for him.

he shrugs at her thanks, one-shouldered, feeling a little awkward about it. ]


It's not like there's any point to keeping it secret here. What would I do, not use my sword or my power when things go down?

[ he sounds pretty incredulous at the idea for a guy who thought he was normal for twelve years of his life. but he can't stop being his father's son any more than he can stop being his mother's. the sea crashes through his blood, is embedded in his bones. ]
Edited 2018-03-16 00:11 (UTC)
diplomatie: (090)

[personal profile] diplomatie 2018-03-15 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ WELL at least it's a relief to hear that she knows of it and that it's not deadly. That takes a lot of worry out of this situation, especially for his significantly more flustered friend, Prompto. (He does feel sorry for worrying him so much, though he'd prefer this to letting Prompto go through the pain himself.)

Though he is not a huge fan of Alisaie's suggestion to leave his arm on its own. Does she not see that it's taking away his greatest joy??? (That's probably specifically why she wants to leave it that way.) And he looks at Alisaie in shock, and then childish desperation. You can't do this to your brother, don't let her do this, Prompto. :(

He'll try to protest it but there's not much other than muffled sounds here ... Please do the splint thing and keep it still. It's hard enough dealing with the pain alone. ]
priorly: (➣ marvels)

[personal profile] priorly 2018-03-16 01:15 am (UTC)(link)
[This is where he took Byerly, the very first day after they fell to earth. For drinks and nostalgia and a flash of something so secret it almost ended with Prior held by the throat. That feels like a lifetime ago, the loneliness and bereavement of arrival here, and yet somewhere New York's still only a breath away. He could close his eyes and be back on a bench in the park, face tilted up to catch the first flakes of snow.

Of the two lives, it's the one here that still seems impermanent. A fever-dream that surely, eventually has to break and let him go - one way or another.

One flaw with the theory: in dreams, he can usually walk.

In this place he picks his way between overturned chairs and the glitter of shattered glass (for someone trying not to keep bleeding, perhaps this idea wasn't his best) and feels an odd affinity for the poor, beat-up place. It was pretty once. He knows how that feels. But nevermind the decor. He follows Richie, letting him choose the trail first, gently putting a little more weight down on his leg each time until his pain tolerance gets resigned to the jolt through his thigh.

While he might object - later, when he's keeping his teeth gritted less tight - to the idea he'd been hauled anywhere, he won't forget the offer made. Richie's used to physical fixes and Prior, impossibly tactile, has spent so long denying himself touch that someone not giving him the choice in the matter was (a disaster and) some kind of blessed relief. His human contact meter's up three bars just from the run.]


I'll get you a replacement for the jacket. Though if you rip your clothes off at the sight of any damsel in distress then warn me and I'll make it something with a disposable thread count.

[They pass the bar into the small, steel-countered food prep area. What a place to bring your lepers. But things are in disarray here, too, at least no one's going to reopen without a deep clean. What a goddamn mess. He swipes a pad of napkins and a salt dispenser from one of the counter tops, smudging both up already.]

What were you doing in that alley, anyway? It didn't look like you had your back to the wall.

[He could have run, is the point. It's been a long night of unexpected heroics.]
terrantrash: (24)

[personal profile] terrantrash 2018-03-16 02:12 am (UTC)(link)
Right...

[It's easy enough to nod at Mikazuki's order. Hiding right now sounds pretty great, if not an incredibly smart move. He keeps close to him, hyper alert as the two of them move to find a place to take cover.]
notwagging: <user name="bittenbittern"> (11)

[personal profile] notwagging 2018-03-16 02:48 am (UTC)(link)
... I guess I can understand that.

[ no guessing--- he DOES know, and Keaton frowns because of it. ]

Maybe everyone else is a monster, and you're the good one.
colorature: (Default)

[personal profile] colorature 2018-03-16 02:54 am (UTC)(link)
[That gets a genuine laugh out of her as she sets her brush into her bucket, deciding to forego the activity completely.]

Maybe! Before I came here, all I wanted was to make the world a place where my dear sister and I could live and not be seen as monsters...but to do that I figured everyone else should just be like me. Makes sense, right?
nineteenfortyfive: (Default)

[personal profile] nineteenfortyfive 2018-03-16 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
[B y e. Claire has no time, truly, to deal with him right now. There are more pressing matters than Ramsay coming back, unfortunately.

Until next time, doppelganger. Except she's going to find out from Theon it's actually not Ramsay, and feel rather bad for this whole encounter. Oops.]
fisherwife: (if you go to jail tonight)

[personal profile] fisherwife 2018-03-16 04:56 am (UTC)(link)
[Mipha shakes her head quietly, expression perplexed and a little sheepish]

They're the only ones anyone's heard of until now, I think. I'll ask around later once things calm down, but... Even in the time I've been here, I never heard of other cities even in passing.

Where I'm from, there's only 5 domains that make up the continent and, as far as I know, the entire world exists only there. So to me, I didn't think it very strange for there to maybe be only these two places that were large enough to be given names and status.
summertimeblues: (070)

[personal profile] summertimeblues 2018-03-16 06:12 am (UTC)(link)
[Richie makes an icks-nay gesture, padding softly through the hall. This part of the place seems almost suspiciously deserted.]

Not unless it's doors direct next to each other, I don't know my way around here and neither do you. I'm not so keen on losing you in this mess, even if you can't teleport again. In for a penny in for a pound and all that tripe.

[He tests one such likely looking door, jiggling the handle and finding the latch sticky. It takes a firmer push (noisier too, sad to say) before it weilds. More supplies, this time of the cleaning variety.]

Well this is definitely a storage hall. Question is whether or not they're keeping the mundane stuff at one end and all the goodies at the other.
romancekiller: (pic#8640880)

[personal profile] romancekiller 2018-03-16 07:16 am (UTC)(link)
Yeah, we have nothing like that back home.

[people with abilities, magic or anything of the sort didn't exist outside of fiction so it was definitely something that took her some time to adjust to being normal here] I'm sure you do plenty to help however you can.

It seems like it'd save the hassle of actually getting some supplies in any case. [and you know breaking in like she had to do just now]
summertimeblues: except these bloody ones i had to make these (034)

i've noticed you scurrilous wench

[personal profile] summertimeblues 2018-03-16 07:28 am (UTC)(link)
[In spite of his fear, Richie's nose wrinkles in displeasure.]

Oh my god. [Is she really quoting Monty Python at a time like this? Nevermind that she's never seen it, she's doing too good an impression to think of anything else.

The important thing is, she isn't fighting his urge to retreat. He was half expecting she'd roll up her sleeves, chomp down some spinach, suck back on a pipe and let 'er rip. She reminds him a bit of Beverly in that regard, unstoppable and ready to throw blows, though Bev had better sense than all this.

That vulture stays back, but it does skitter along the rooftop and screech at them as Richie gets them hustling. His breathing picks up the pace along with his feet, and he's trying to move Clair along with as much gentility a run can muster. The cold print of her bloodied hand on his chest sticks to his skin. It's chilled too quick in the winter air.

He hears the flap of wings behind them and another furious screech, and all pretense at delicacy is lost. He yanks her along, booking those last ten yards to the nearest shop.

Eight yards.

(Woosh goes the wings.)

Five yards.

(Their clothes flutter under the sudden gust.)

Three yards.]


GO!
lifespanned: (pic#11709552)

[personal profile] lifespanned 2018-03-16 08:48 am (UTC)(link)
[ The last string of tension that she had seems to give away once he says she can sleep, a small sigh leaving her lips. Now that there's no possible way anything else could make her get up, she can relax fully, making an effort to ease the stress in her temples.

While she's getting all tucked in, she's immaturely trying to blow some of the fringe out of her face since it's too much work to move it with her hands... It's only when he settles in next to her that she tries to rearrange herself to get more comfortable than just laying flat on her back - huddling just a bit closer and lying on her side. It's about as cozy as she can be for having a gash in her arm, but she looks calmer at least, glad to finally settle down. ]


Make sure I wake up, okay...? And make sure no one else sees me like this.

[ She's only half-joking - she really would hate for anyone to see how disheveled and somewhat pathetic she looked right now. It's okay if it's JJ, but that's because...they're friends? In a way that was different than her connections to people on Earth. Waking up here on this planet with all it's shenanigans had that effect on her relationships. It was easy to cut people off and throw them away on Earth for her goals, but imagining behaving like that now... she could anticipate a feeling of pain, however small and budding.

As vain as they both are, she has the feeling that he doesn't care about the state she's in, which is weird, but strangely reassuring... she doesn't feel like she has to worry so much if its only him. ]


But really...you should probably try to rest for a little while too...

[ See? She can afford concern for others. Just after she's had her fair share of Injured Spotlight. Truthfully she doesn't even know how bad his injuries are since she's focused on herself, but she'll still say this to him for the brownie points of it all. With her arms tucked in like this she can't give him a reassuring pat or anything, but with her head turned toward him he would be able to feel the steady puffs of her breath near his shoulder, slowing even more as she drifted off. ]
seagoing: (pic#8771939)

[personal profile] seagoing 2018-03-16 12:04 pm (UTC)(link)
((Sorry this comes so late!!! If there's anything you end up wanting to handwave let me know, I've been sick until recently so I've been away longer than I wanted to be. Its all good if you do! :D))

[The wine that she'd pilfered while absolutely delicious and a clear sign that more expensive stuff was indeed better, it just left her pleasantly warm instead of anywhere near drunk. Maybe it could to someone with a weaker tolerance, and though it had been tempting she'd need to run off with at least several bottles of the stuff to get a good buzz.

Instead, she rides a high influenced by the atmosphere settling over the city, giving into the instinctual urge to just go. Do what you want, take what you want, feel the thrill of being alive as the world burns around you in both cities.]


There's enough people still running about the place doing far worse than appreciating the craftsmanship of a well made garment for them to notice me. What's the harm in having a personal tour of the place while I can?

[His stern advice while logically the correct thing to do goes in one ear and out the other for the most part, taken as she is by the thrill of exploring somewhere otherwise forbidden. The mist is strong in influencing her actions to go against her survival and rational instincts, and she's pretty happy where she is at the moment.

She considers her company with a smile a little on the wild side, finding the voice to be a familiar one. Her find she sets to the side as she saunters over to him after a moment, a hand on her hip. Had he come to arrest her? She sort of hopes not, she'd been enjoying herself for the first time since the riots broke out.]


Besides...this is the closest I've had to a reprieve of any sort in days. Wyver's faring no better than here at the moment, so I figured why not follow the bread crumbs and get a taste of the finer things in life?
seagoing: (pic#12072884)

[personal profile] seagoing 2018-03-16 12:20 pm (UTC)(link)
((sorry this is coming to you so late!!! if you'd rather handwave this just let me know, apologies since i hadn't been feeling too well recently!))

You're probably right, it's likely for the better if I just keep it for myself then. A bit of a shame and a blessing too since it's right up my alley, but I can't say I would have minded the money either.

[Such a shame to have to keep such a beautiful, expensive piece of clothing for herself. She feels a bit of pity for those who won't get to witness it's beauty for themselves, but ah well. More for her she supposes.

More important than her lucky find is who of all people found her, and she just gives him an eager grin. Out of all the people she could have run into, it's a little comforting to come across someone she knows and not someone crying traitor or offering people to giant pyres.]


I'm always careful of who I talk to, though I think in the mist of all this hysteria and other people ransacking the place it'll hardly matter.

[A half lie, as she didn't exactly care who heard her at the moment. The daggers she'd brought with her was her insurance for the wrong person to hear her though, just in case.

And speaking of weapons, she eyes the way his hand lingers on one of his own, one of those guns she'd learned about from Rosalind. Dangerous for sure, but she isn't too worried. She takes a guess that if he was going to do anything he would have instead of hanging back to talk with her.]


You seem well prepared yourself. Here to keep the peace or add to the chaos?
Edited 2018-03-16 12:21 (UTC)
dianano: (pic#11871230)

similar situation for me so I understand and am equally sorry!

[personal profile] dianano 2018-03-16 12:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Steve turns towards where Haru is looking and just catches sight of them before they disappear around a corner. ]

Let's go!

[ Whether or not she's started running without him already, Steve is joining her, sprinting as fast as he can to catch up to the arsonist. Once they turn the corner, the man is back in sight and Steve calls out to get their attention. ]

Stop! I'm armed! [ Steve has his gun pointed at them but only as a threat. ] One your knees! Now!
seagoing: (pic#12072901)

[personal profile] seagoing 2018-03-16 01:06 pm (UTC)(link)
You don't-

[You don't look anything close to all right. is what she wants to say, but she catches herself to bite her tongue before she says it aloud. For some reason Rosalind is playing off her injuries and wounds as if they were mere scrapes and scratches, and that concerns her more than anything else. It was more than obvious that the city here wasn't faring any better than Wyver was, lack of giant fires to actually sacrifice people to being it's only saving grace between the two.

She can't help the urge she feels to want to check the woman over herself to confirm the damage, or at the very least find wherever Anders is in the city and take her there for him to look over in her place. The latter sounds like a better idea given he's an actual healer compared to her rudimentary skills from dealing with injuries on her own at sea, but. That can come later, and even driven on impulse as she is she makes a note to bring it up later. For now-

For now even though they're in the middle of a fancy parlor room in the midst of a palace getting looted and ransacked, she takes advantage of the urge to place a kiss to the other woman's forehead in an almost uncharacteristic move for her, enjoying the warmth of Rosalind's body for a moment before it starts to feel a little too much like something nagging her in the back of her thoughts. She shakes it off, instead giving in to running a careful hand over bandages and wounded skin before ruffling her hair slightly with a sympathetic smile.]


Seems like more than just a few. If you need help with getting back at any of them I can think of a few people I could ask to keep an eye out, if I don't gut them myself. [That part comes out harsher than she'd like, concern bleeding into a simmering fury at whoever dared to hurt someone she considered a good friend.] You'd have to be blind to not see both cities were building up to some sort of explosion of sorts, but I hadn't expected anything like this to come about. You're right that things seem worse though, the city looks absolutely trashed from what I could see coming here. Wyver might be on fire, but everything here seems more...violent, as if everyone has given up on any pretense of reason.

[She steps back then, eyes lingering on her prized find of the bustier she'd come across for a moment before turning to her other prize; the wine bottle she'd drank from earlier. She takes it then, holding it out in offering to the other woman because from looks alone she more then deserved it than Isabela did.]

Made a mess of this place too it looks like. I didn't expect you to be around here taking in the sights too, but it's good to know more or less you're up and about. And you've certainly earned a sip of this from what it looks like you've been through.
vorrutyer: (god honestly what is this guy's face)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2018-03-16 01:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Oh, god, this hurts a lot. By takes about three steps where he's resting only lightly upon Prior - and then, each subsequent step, he sinks down further and further until he's resting a lot of his weight on him. Small noises emerge from his throat as they walk, little exclamations of pain that are mostly swallowed but only mostly, and after a moment he closes his eyes, trusting that Prior will lead them the right way.

It is funny, how much easier it is to walk with Prior supporting him. It hurts like a motherfucker, it's true, but without him, he'd have been crawling at this point. When he was in his twenties, he'd been just a little bit too bold and too reckless and he'd gotten the shit beat out of him by a few of the more righteous Vor lads. He still remembers the agonizing steps to drag himself to a clinic. Every step taken on his own. His friends had moved on to the next bar while he was having his arm broken.

What a strange thing it is, having a real friend. ]


You can leave me behind...at any time.

[ It's said like a joke. ]
priorly: (pic#11690485)

[personal profile] priorly 2018-03-16 06:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[There are few right ways in a palace that's on fire. Prior opts for the one that looks most like getting them the hell out and the least like hell in general. He's grateful when Byerly's eyes drift closed because it lets him mouth his own pain silently into the air.

Not a sound, though. He's too aware how quickly Byerly would try to pull himself back up at the slightest whimper.

Turning his head, he's practically speaking into Byerly's dark hair. It's strange to be at so close a level.]


Too late for that. I've spent a whole week failing to talk myself into moving a few houses down the street.

[There, fresh air at last. There has to be somewhere nearby it's safe enough to collapse and call for aid.]
song_of_ice: ([Jon] Can't Believe My Eyes)

[personal profile] song_of_ice 2018-03-16 07:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[He glanced around. There were a few shops nearby, some people gathering there to hide. From what he could see, a few injured were huddled together, assisted by the healers that ventured from Sanctuary.]

There. We will have to move him slowly. We don't want to attract attention from...whatever that is.
yelliot: (//Well...No)

Somehow I missed this and I suck forgive me

[personal profile] yelliot 2018-03-16 09:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Kind of...enough to punch them if I see them.

[Chuuya, no. Don't encourage Elliot's violent streak. He's destructive enough as it is.]

What are you doing? Wrangling lizards?
yelliot: (//Holy Shit)

Somehow I missed this in my inbox...I apologize for crusty lateness sob

[personal profile] yelliot 2018-03-16 09:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[Her arm looks...pretty nasty. That's definitely not how a person's arm should be set by any means. At the very least she seems to be coming to and it probably sucks. He can only hope her brain's all in one piece. Thankfully Elliot's touch is a lot more gentle than his voice is as he reaches out with a hand, fingers gently patting against her cheek to encourage her to wake up.]

Hey...that's it, wake up. We need to get you out of here.

[And fast. It's not like the chaos around them seems to be settling down anytime soon.]
Edited 2018-03-16 21:19 (UTC)
cajolery: grouchygutterrat@tumblr (013)

[personal profile] cajolery 2018-03-16 09:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[ When he goes for the handshake instead of the kiss, her smile freezes on her face for a moment, almost pained. (Un)fortunately, this isn't even close to the first time that someone has messed up this very simple greeting—in fact, she's starting to become genuinely surprised when someone kisses her hand properly instead of shaking it.

It's fine. He's truly uneducated, after all. At least he's managed to pick up "milady" just fine—he's not completely hopeless. ]


Camulus, then. [ Does not insist that he call her "Clair." Mila forbid. ] Is that so? Surely your deeds were quite heroic to earn such fame.
personalwar: face (pic#11621352)

[personal profile] personalwar 2018-03-16 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Well, he walked right into that one, didn't he?

Jack scoffs and shakes his head to himself, but it's not like he can argue Ana's point. She's bailed him out more times than either of them can remember, and while she'll give him a hard time about it, she's never actually expected anything in return. There's no way he could repay her, not after all this time.

When she starts with the gauze, Jack lifts his arms above his head to give her whatever access that she needs, his mouth twisting a little at the strain. ]


I'll be paying it off the rest of my life.