[ It's the silence that tips her off — because before it's a happy coincidence it's also a technique, used for dramatic effect. To suddenly raise tension, amplify unease. The dramatic pause before the music starts again.
But in this case, the silence comes ... but never quite leaves; no moment comes for her to relax again, or take a breath. The strangest part is, nature isn't supposed to do that ( or, based on what she knows of nature ). Her head turns, lips thinned. There's little hesitation when she reaches out for a passerby to tap them on the shoulder. And before they can get a word out, she holds up a finger to them. Wait.
Their patience, should they choose to exercise it, is rewarded. She quickly turns a phone screen towards them, a typed-out message prepared to be read. ]
Your name. What is it?
TWO. FORGETTING IS SO LONG. ( CLOSED TO OLD CR. )
[ A) it starts inconspicuous, at first; a bar, with most of its patrons keeping it to their own tables. At the corner of the establishment is a redhead, the mic to her lips and a guitar in her hand, as she sings. The occasional person turns to watch her, until the view disappears, and —
The light comes from beyond the curtains, this time. Up ahead is a stage, beautifully decorated and entirely filled by a single individual ( unsurprisingly, it's the same redhead ). The silence fills with the same guitar again, and she's singing the same melody. This time, the crowd ( barely seen from backstage, but there nonetheless ) seems entranced by her music.
( The singer on the stage also stands behind the curtains, along with whoever is also watching this memory. Unlike the one performing, this one's eyes are cold. )
B) It's the same stage as before — except a glitch-like white has replaced parts of the floor, and the woman no longer stands at the mic. In her hand is a glowing sword — and at her feet is a ... being. What looks to be a mere shadow of a human, its entire body black except for a brilliantly white head. Slowly using its arms to crawl towards Red, while she watches. There's barely any movement from Red herself ( a voice, from the sword, asks What now? ), until she turns the sword in her hand, and she —
Strikes the ... thing on the ground with little hesitation. It cries out in pain, as if it's human ( maybe it was, once ). As it fades away, a distorted voice speaks, relieved, Finally, finally, finally we can be....
The scene darkens, until they're back on the road once more. Red seems to be looking at where the figure was — jaw tense, hands curled into fists at her sides. Anger radiating off of her frame. ]
THREE. WHITE AND GOLD.
[ And finally: the obligatory beach episode. Because the sun is shining, and a certain someone wanted to — not that he's around, at the moment. At the same time, that doesn't mean she's alone, either; no more than a few feet from her is a robotic canine, eyeless with a floating head, as it sniffs along the sand. When it barks, there's a machine-like, static-clinging sound to it. Red seems more than content to simply watch.
Until its — her — ears ( "ears" ) perk up, and suddenly, her snout points directly at anyone watching this happen. She barks once more, before easily leaving Red's side to close the distance between her and them, before starting to sniff at their feet. Once they seem to pass some kind of test, she grabs a stick sticking out from the sand, and drops it down at their foot. Play?
( If they were to look up, they'd see a redhead with her lips threatening to curl up. A nod at the stick, if they haven't gotten the hint yet. Don't disappoint her dog, now. ) ]
WILDCARD.
( the usual — if none of these prompts interest you, then hit me up with a wildcard! or find me at charred to hash out details. )
red | transistor
[ It's the silence that tips her off — because before it's a happy coincidence it's also a technique, used for dramatic effect. To suddenly raise tension, amplify unease. The dramatic pause before the music starts again.
But in this case, the silence comes ... but never quite leaves; no moment comes for her to relax again, or take a breath. The strangest part is, nature isn't supposed to do that ( or, based on what she knows of nature ). Her head turns, lips thinned. There's little hesitation when she reaches out for a passerby to tap them on the shoulder. And before they can get a word out, she holds up a finger to them. Wait.
Their patience, should they choose to exercise it, is rewarded. She quickly turns a phone screen towards them, a typed-out message prepared to be read. ]
Your name. What is it?
TWO. FORGETTING IS SO LONG. ( CLOSED TO OLD CR. )
[ A) it starts inconspicuous, at first; a bar, with most of its patrons keeping it to their own tables. At the corner of the establishment is a redhead, the mic to her lips and a guitar in her hand, as she sings. The occasional person turns to watch her, until the view disappears, and —
The light comes from beyond the curtains, this time. Up ahead is a stage, beautifully decorated and entirely filled by a single individual ( unsurprisingly, it's the same redhead ). The silence fills with the same guitar again, and she's singing the same melody. This time, the crowd ( barely seen from backstage, but there nonetheless ) seems entranced by her music.
( The singer on the stage also stands behind the curtains, along with whoever is also watching this memory. Unlike the one performing, this one's eyes are cold. )
B) It's the same stage as before — except a glitch-like white has replaced parts of the floor, and the woman no longer stands at the mic. In her hand is a glowing sword — and at her feet is a ... being. What looks to be a mere shadow of a human, its entire body black except for a brilliantly white head. Slowly using its arms to crawl towards Red, while she watches. There's barely any movement from Red herself ( a voice, from the sword, asks What now? ), until she turns the sword in her hand, and she —
Strikes the ... thing on the ground with little hesitation. It cries out in pain, as if it's human ( maybe it was, once ). As it fades away, a distorted voice speaks, relieved, Finally, finally, finally we can be....
The scene darkens, until they're back on the road once more. Red seems to be looking at where the figure was — jaw tense, hands curled into fists at her sides. Anger radiating off of her frame. ]
THREE. WHITE AND GOLD.
[ And finally: the obligatory beach episode. Because the sun is shining, and a certain someone wanted to — not that he's around, at the moment. At the same time, that doesn't mean she's alone, either; no more than a few feet from her is a robotic canine, eyeless with a floating head, as it sniffs along the sand. When it barks, there's a machine-like, static-clinging sound to it. Red seems more than content to simply watch.
Until its — her — ears ( "ears" ) perk up, and suddenly, her snout points directly at anyone watching this happen. She barks once more, before easily leaving Red's side to close the distance between her and them, before starting to sniff at their feet. Once they seem to pass some kind of test, she grabs a stick sticking out from the sand, and drops it down at their foot. Play?
( If they were to look up, they'd see a redhead with her lips threatening to curl up. A nod at the stick, if they haven't gotten the hint yet. Don't disappoint her dog, now. ) ]
WILDCARD.
( the usual — if none of these prompts interest you, then hit me up with a wildcard! or find me at