EVENT #011

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone on Earth in Meadowlark's world.
WHERE: The Aerie, a different world.
WHEN: Late July 2512.
WHAT: The first log of our AU event, taking place in an AU world that puts on battle royale events to cull the massive overpopulation.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Overwritten minds, horrible dystopian conditions, and more!

> EVENT #011

On the morning of July 26th, every living person on Earth will be spirited away from where they were mere moments before. Just like that. Hover cars will descend slowly in transit, trains will come to a stop without a screech of their breaks, and the streets throughout every single of the 104 megacities will be left barren, empty, and lifeless. Even those lost and hidden, not seen for months, are swept gently away with the rest of their brethren. No stone will go unturned.

The world upon their return may pick up where it's left off, or it will be changed in some way. Will it be July 26th when everyone finds themselves back where they were standing before? Or will something else happen during this time? Now that the supposed lifeblood of this planet is gone, what will happen in their absence? The world may not be able to go on how it had been.

Perhaps the more terrifying question is this: if something is powerful enough to steal away every person, every single one capable of thought, ideas, conflict, war, and more, what else could happen?

Perhaps it's for the best that it may be awhile before anyone has to worry about that.

For now, they've entered a world that's one week away from its next Quarry event: a place where The Aerie's criminals fight to prove they deserve to keep their life.

> THE WORLD ENDS WITH YOU (THE AERIE)

The Aerie is a structure that should not exist.

Made of steel and concrete, it gives off the impression that its guts were arranged haphazardly, as if an amateur surgeon had pulled them out and tried to put them back in again. Steel beams stretch out between buildings, connecting them together. There may have been a wall of concrete around this beam once upon a time, but it splintered and fell away, exposing its insides and opening up a pathway that people have taken for granted in the past fifty to a hundred years. Power lines hang in loose tangles throughout this little world, ready to fall away at the slightest breeze, then splinter and spark.

Most of the insides of The Aerie are barely preserved. Trying to do that would be an impossible task: there are too many people, too many who live in concrete layered on one another like stacks of broken shelves, too many who pass through open maws of ruptured pathways, crawling up onto the roof of a business for what they think is a shortcut to a higher level. Brittle walls that splinter off into clouds of chalky white dust are everywhere and anywhere.

How The Aerie came together was once a majestic feat: a place for people to live, thrown together as extinction surged forward like a towering beast on the horizon. There was a mix of minds behind the action, as well as a hollow sense of desperation. Even those who brought The Aerie into being knew that their lives were on the line. It was a matter of "make this work" or die. So, they made it work.

What's truly impossible about The Aerie isn't the hulking structures merged together at all manner of impossible angles, but the outer layer of this little world, looming overhead in shimmering, constant glory. The people of The Aerie are protected, safe; the world outside is a nebulous, uncertain mess of greys and greens and reds and blues. Storms surge just outside of the wall of The Aerie with sharp, constant bolts of lightning that batter the surface overhead. Once upon a time, the people of this little world feared those bolts cutting through and destroying their home. But it's been long enough now. No one lives in fear of what's outside, and no one wonders, not anymore. After all, the people who made it outside were never seen again. For a time, some people could watch through the clear walls as these escapees' bodies turned to irradiated mush with only bones left behind. In time, those bones withered away to dust. And with them, their memories were forgotten.

Within The Aerie, life goes on, just as it must: riddled with fear, with survival often depending on the ability to escape notice.

Only two parts of The Aerie remain unscathed, untouched by the passage of time and haphazard construction of this refuge:

The Volary, which stands tall and pristine at the heart of The Aerie. Lights burn within The Volary all day and all night, showing signs of life that most of the people outside of its walls will never see for themselves.

And then the Quarry, a structure built in haste and out of necessity. The same people who brought The Aerie together also made the Quarry. At its base are a series of office buildings, setting up monthly arena events where the guilty fight to show that they deserve to survive.

These two things are the source of all the fear in The Aerie. It's what keeps everyone's mind off the crumbling walls, the storms outside, and the miserable, unending passage of time.

> SOAK UP THE GLORY (THE VOLARY)

When The Aerie came into being, so did The Volary. Far from fragmented like the rest of this tiny, tiny world, it stands pristine, with brown bricks lining its exterior, and strong steel beams holding it strong within. Either through its making or its care, The Volary hasn't suffered from the hands of time like the rest of the world. Anyone outside of The Volary doesn't know the truth, though they could likely guess.

Inside of The Volary lives the members of Parliament: the newly-joined Magpies, the comfortable Rooks, and the looming and most powerful, the Cardinals.

The Cardinals live at the very top. Even after over two hundred years, the Cardinals remain impenetrable. New members are accepted into their ranks from time to time, granted secrets of a bygone era, but the rest of the world remains ignorant to their knowledge. At the heart of this structure is a cult, a belief system; they are the ones who decide if The Aerie lives or dies. For now, it continues to live. Of course, any other path would lead to their devastation as well. They may be nearly immortal, but they aren't truly untouchable and eternal.

Beneath them are the rest of Parliament, cocky in their comfort. Many were born into it, but some were raised into the ranks, finding their own footholds. Sometimes these elevations seem random; sometimes these promotions happen with purpose, with someone driving to catch the eye of a Rook who's looking for someone like-minded to have around them.

Outside of the Magpies, the Rooks that were once Magpies, and the once-members of The Congregation outside, everyone seems blissfully ignorant of the dilapidated world outside. There are some workers from the outside world who know, and some Carrion lucky to have their place among the elite—but there is a sense that some things shouldn't be spoken about, or else they may need to be responsible for it all. While the outside begins to age without any sign of renewal, this compound lives on—untouched, unbothered.

The Volary is set up in levels. The very bottom is where all the businesses that serve the people up above are located. It's where animals are raised and butchered, and where food is prepared before it's brought up to the upper levels. There are numerous common areas, but these can be rented out for any whim of any members of Parliament. Even the businesses themselves can be shuttered for the day, with preferred chefs invited to the upper levels to prepare meals to deal with these circumstances. (Someone from the Congregation can train as a chef in the Cotillion, even if they've never handled food of this nature their entire lives. It's a good job to have, as a number of favored chefs have been elevated to Magpies.)

Beyond the shops is the first level of living quarters for the various members of Parliament. Many Magpie and Rook suites are side by side, though some Rooks prefer not to be housed next to a newcomer and have made their preference known throughout the years. These suites are designed and adapted to its inhabitant's every need, and if someone is born into the family, they inherit their family's suite once someone dies. How is it that there could be space for all the members of Parliament, and so little room outside of the walls of this compound? Consider that yet another question that members of Parliament don't need to concern themselves with.

At the uppermost levels are the suites belonging to the Cardinals. Unless explicitly invited, no one is allowed onto these floors. Numerous Carrion have died throughout the years because they wandered up the wrong set of stairs, knowing that risk was looming over them.

And at the very top is where The Conclave meets. Newly elected members of Parliament visit this room once to receive their powers, only they recall nothing. No one knows what happens within the inner walls of The Conclave. Some have attempted to spy throughout the years. Needless to say, that didn't go well.

The Volary is the home of the pampered, the rich: the people who can ignore the dying world beyond them. Even those inheriting a sense of importance feel as if they've done enough—when they clearly don't do enough. At least those stuck outside may find themselves walking through the heavy front doors of this compound one day. Too bad it's based upon the powers of Parliament, and whether they deign to let someone inside. The only good news is that someone can be buzzed in via their power. That gives a real personal touch, right?

> NO WAY TO LIVE (THE CONGREGATION)

Outside of The Volary, The Aerie is set up in sectors, these sectors acting like rings that move further and further from The Volary up and down throughout The Aerie. Almost by necessity, the rings closer to The Volary are populated by Parliament's favorites. The upkeep around here is better: not pristine, but far from as bad as it gets as someone travels to the outer sectors. Many who have made a name for themselves in the Quarry live in these inner sectors, close to the people of Parliament. Many believe that the inner sectors are still tended to because members of Parliament would hate to face up to the fact of their world dying, and it may not be far from the truth.

In addition to better upkeep, the inner sectors experience less Shrike patrols, with the people allowed to live a life that allows them to remain ignorant to the world around them. They may not be Parliament, but their life in these sectors affords them the feeling of comfort. They don't have to fear their ceiling caving in; they don't have to fear a pipe bursting at an unfortunate moment; they don't have to fear wrongful arrest because they looked at someone the wrong way. It takes a lot for those from the inner sectors to have their lives ruined—but it's not exactly impossible. Of course, this is also where The Cotillion is kept, with numerous buildings and dormitories maintained for its students.

The further and further someone goes away from The Volary, the more life within The Aerie becomes difficult. The worst part is this: no one knows any better. They know the crumbling walls, the faded and peeling wallpaper, the revealed steel beams. They know the frequent Shrike patrols. They know that if they commit a crime, it's on them: they deserve whatever comes their way.

How does someone work in order to get by in these outer sectors? They can help man the bars, because drinking is as much a way of life here as it is back in the regular world. They can help upkeep of The Aerie. Someone can easily enter a trade alongside their compulsory schooling, especially if they aren't special enough for Cotillion training. Electricians are needed throughout. Maintenance of trains is needed throughout. Plumbers are needed throughout. And rations? They come by way of processing plants connected to hydroponic farms. More than a few times throughout the years, these plants have suffered breakdowns, and there have been ration shortages. But don't worry: Parliament continued on eating as if nothing changed outside.

Rations are given out three times a day through numerous rations checkpoints in each sector. These rations are like tasteless protein bars: enough to provide someone the meal they need, a bland mixture of carbohydrates, protein and fat sprinkled with essential nutrients, and little more. Attempts to make them more flavorful throughout the years have failed. Badly. It's probably better that they're bland little morsels. The good news is that they're filling. That may be the only good news.

Life isn't all misery and pain, even if job prospects are largely unfortunate if you're nothing special and the food is literally nothing to talk about. There is a thriving popular culture within The Congregation. There are numerous television shows and movies depicting the distant past, or even a brighter present: one in which the people of The Congregation managed to come together and make their lives better. Oddly enough, these don't tend to act as propaganda. They're just badly written, but done with an eye on hope and perhaps a better life. There are sports and games, though no official leagues have started up, almost certainly because they would compete with the Quarry for airtime.

Members of the Congregation are able to travel anywhere they like within The Aerie thanks to trains, with the only sector the train lines don't access being The Volary. They can peer down over the city, seeing a blurry line of grey all merging together, with people living their lives as best as they can. These trains go near the surface of The Aerie, too, granting someone a close up of the world outside, and reminding them that life could be much, much worse. It could be gone altogether.

> SO SHALL IT BE (QUARRY PREPARATIONS)

With one week remaining until the next Quarry event, preparations continue within The Company's headquarters. Located at the base of the arena out of necessity, The Company's offices are pristine and lifeless in nature. White walls, white ceiling tiles, and white chairs: nothing varies from anything else. How does it remain so surgical at all times? One can only wonder.

Numerous Quarries are being prepared at any given moment, with the televised sensations planned months in advance. Some plans are scrapped depending on competitors. Given the recurrence of Snipes, there are moments where plans need to be changed, where tension needs to be brought in. An arena designer may have to scrap his entire vision for a backup plan.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—The Company is a well-oiled machine. Need some crunch time to make sure a Quarry event is ready on time? The underlings at The Company are used to working long, long days to make it work.

The Quarry this time around is unknown, though there are suspicions of what it might be.

As for those waiting to enter the ring: they're free to live their lives, but many of them are undergoing talent training and preparation for the big event. They're going through interviews, getting sized for any costumes, and being asked to tell their stories. Some of the Snipes may be more than ready for this, while the Guineas will need to figure this out for themselves.

> A WILL TO FIGHT (THE KESTRELS)

Littered throughout the Congregation is a group that's been budding for a while. As much as this world is all they've known, there are some who believe that they deserve something better. The Quarry is unfair, and all throughout the many sectors, there are signs that The Aerie is breaking down and dying, barely keeping it together. These are people who may be afraid, but want to fight despite that fear.

Some of them have made themselves known: bearing a tattoo of a kestrel where others can see. Others hide who they are, but they're waiting. Planning. They strike when they can, but they know that time is running out. There are tiny safehouses throughout, typically through hatches underneath small local businesses that are sympathetic to the kestrels themselves. These people aren't members, but they put themselves at risk every day to protect this movement.

So, they have their sights set on this upcoming Quarry. It's time to bring change to The Aerie—or die trying.

> GOALS FOR THIS LOG

Either through talking ICly or OOCly, we'd like to have the following goals outlined and submitted to our comments below:

What is the Kestrels' plan in all of this? What do they intend to do?
This can include trying to find and meet with Prometheus, just as a note! Overall, we'd like an idea of what they'll be attempting with the upcoming Quarry so that we can work it into the next log.

What is the theme for the next Quarry arena?
We'd like to have some idea of a theme, as well as some submitted puzzles! We know that we're the kings of Vague Ass Puzzles, so feel free to be vague. We just want to give our Quarry participants something to look forward to.

Are there any other factors we need to consider?
Parliament upheaval? Plans to find out what Parliament is doing? Anything else that might come to mind? This is more loose!

We're giving a loose deadline of DECEMBER 7 with the next log going up on DECEMBER 12.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to part one of our year-end AU event! We meant for this to be primarily be a description log to start play, especially since we feel that most of our critical information is in our Planning Post. We suggest that you do any necessary planning there for your select crews there, as well as use the "DM" system on Warbler for private stuff.

Of course, our questions thread is still open.

Since it's come up in the past: since all characters are in the AU, please feel free to do a catch-all post of anything you might want! Flashbacks! Anything open prompt-wise! Go wild with this stuff. This is always available during events, but we wanted to be explicitly clear here given the nature of this event.

As for mod-run social media, we have a post here on the network where we'll be steadily adding things throughout the event!

Our November Activity Check goes live on DECEMBER 1. AC for the month of December will be check-in only. It's a weird holiday season, but it will undoubtedly still be stressful for all of us.

Our next reserves will open on NOVEMBER 23 and our next application period will open on DECEMBER 1. We intend for all new or returning applicants to be kept outside of the AU. We have a special plotting opportunity and NPC ready for this scenario to help people integrate. However, if you have a friend who's apping to tap into the AU, let us know—we're not 100% married to our plans, but we worried about any new players apping into such a convoluted scenario after so much plotting has already taken place.

That's all for now. Have fun and for those of you who celebrate, have a Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃

> NAVIGATION

Comments

GOAL SUBMISSIONS

[larkers]

We're shooting to have the questions above answered by December 7th, but we'll be keeping an eye on things to see if everyone needs more time!

[wittingly]

Quarry arena puzzles!

"teamwork" puzzles, where groups of >1 trigger some kind of cage/cell/trap door or whatever, and they have to work together to use clues to figure out how to get out.
→ a cool example of this is a rune puzzle, where character A and character B are in different rooms and can't see each other. They each have a set of symbols on a wall, and some of those symbols have a letter of the alphabet beneath them. They have to describe the symbol to one another to assign an alphabet letter to it to decode the message.
→hilarious twist of fate, one of the messages is like "kill your partner to get out", "press this button for murder", you know, post-bonding betrayal.
→or just regular actual working together to survive puzzles where if you betray your partner you die too. it takes two people to open the door / turn off the rising water levels / whatever

"incentive" puzzles
haven't found food or water in a few days? get bit by something poisonous? have a gaping wound and need medical care? good news, there's an incentive puzzle. if you solve it, you get what you need.
if you get it wrong you get a lovely metal punishment spike shot at you at high-speed.

good old fashioned "you weren't paying attention" traps
oops didn't notice that pressure plate before you stepped on it didja, well here's like the lethal equivalent of when people step on rakes in cartoons

larry trainor | doom patrol

[testflight]

soak up the glory

[ there's luxury and comfort in the volary —privilege, too, yes, but it's easy not to realise that, not to notice it here. if larry is aware of the fact that the world outside is crumbling, he excels at putting it out of his mind.

there are better things to focus on, after all.

things like dancing with handsome men at parties, smiling at a friend or a lover over drinks or dinner. things like inviting someone back to the suite he now inhabits on his own. things like revelling in the joy of simply being himself, unapologetically and without restraint. ]

dish out the gossip (@ x15)

01. if you had to rank them, who'd you say are the top five hottest shrikes at the moment?
02. i could use company for dinner tonight. interested?

[ aka texts from the volary; private messages larry has sent. ]

( ooc: what larry currently looks like & his plotting comment. this vague tl is here to create a space for consensual shippiness and smut and flirting and larry being gay and okay, a space for happy and joyful things. yes, this is a dystopian au but damn it, larry trainor deserves A Good Day. threads might get nsfw if i have anything to say about it ]

gossip - 01

[plainsimple]

1. Myself, obviously, I do hope you agree.
2. Amos, devastatingly confident in who he is
3. Lance, quite the lovely pout
4. Marcos, so very pretty

The other choices get so very difficult. I'm surprised you aren't simply posting your list of favorites.

Callisto

[myfavoritemurder]

no way to live

[Maybe this is just how life is going to be from now on, she thinks - waking up in different places, on different worlds, dragged around by the will of gods who aren't even bothering to tell her what they want from her. It's enough to make a girl miss Hades and Tartarus.

This time, she's in a small but homey apartment - smack dab in the middle of the Aerie, she'll later learn, in a sector that's not exactly close to the Volary, but isn't in the outskirts either. The furniture is worn and the floors creak, but it's still far cozier than any place she's stayed since she was a young child. The strangest thing, though, is that it appears to have been created with her in mind. She doesn't know how, or why, but it's unmistakeable: all the clothing fits her perfectly, her name is everywhere (on things that she'll later realize are bills, letters, post-it notes, text messages), and she has a key to the front door in her pocket. There are even little paper images of her with others stuck up on the refrigerator. She spends a long time standing there looking at them - at the happy, open, utterly foreign smile that always appears on her own face. And then she leaves, taking to the street, not bothering to use the key to lock the door behind her.

It’s not until someone greets her with a cheerful "Hi, Callisto!" that it fully clicks. She drops to her knees right there on the street, and bursts into hysterical peals of laughter.

After a while, after she's had time to collect herself, she tells herself that she won’t stand for this. She impulsively makes a decision to strike back anyone who tries to call her friend, or who acts as if they know her in any way. A hit with her open palm for one offense, she thinks, and a broken bone for two. Maybe outright slaughter for anyone who dares go for three. And when she finds her way back to that apartment, she'll rip down all the images from the fridge. She'll tear to pieces that happy-smiling Callisto, and with her all the people around her who had made her look like that.

She does not, it turns out, do any of that. She ends up doing something very different instead.

It's not quite a decision that she makes - she doesn't sit herself down and come up with a plan to live this life that's been thrust into her hands. If confronted, she would in fact deny that that's what she's doing. But it's born of impulsivity, of curiosity, of - and this is the part she touches on, and then immediately skitters away from, unable to fully admit it even to herself - a desire to be anyone else but who she is, and to life any other life but the one she's known. And so she'll smile when people greet on the street, even though it never reaches her eyes; if they stop her for a chat, she'll go along with it. She'll nod along with what they say, filing away the information they inadvertently give her, so that she can trot it out with others later and act as if she knew it all along. She'll learn, with some fumbling, how to use her phone for calls and for Warbler, and she'll respond when people reach out.

She hates it. She loves it. She wants to tear it all down, scream at them all, hurt them all, do whatever she can to drive them away from her and keep them from ever returning. She wants to grab hold of all of them tightly, dig her claws in, and never, ever let go.]

[OOC: Plotting here (tl;dr: she has her full memories and non-AU personality, but will be kind of trying to play along regardless), info here and here! I'm still making my way through the OOC plotting post, but if your character is a Kestrel you are free to assume that they at least knew each other by sight, and I'm very open to plotting out AU CR beyond that!]

Just outside his shop?

[plainsimple]

He's straightening up his displays, as paltry as they are, when she comes by. Garak looks up to offer her a smile.

"Callisto. How's the shop today? You're getting a later start than usual." There's a fine line to walk between being friendly and being a shrike - he can only show off so many observations at once but that seems casual enough. Things are just a little more charged right now, as the Quarry announcements are starting to go out.

Julian Bashir!

[frontierbashir]

So Shall It Be

"This isn't going to work. You have to give people a chance to actually find and create their own antidote and this bacterium's toxin is deadly within the first 18 hours. That's barely enough time to brew it, not to mention you can only find the herb in one small patch." Julian does his best not to raise his voice. He is not frustrated with this bit. Not exactly.

It's that he's the medical consultant for the Company and thus the Quarry. It's that his direct input leads to the deaths of so many.

Though even without his input, they would still die.

"You can either make the herb more accessible, or eliminate the bacterial involvement altogether, as I see it."

He struggles with this day in and day out. A physician responsible for so much death--but he knows he contributes to healing as well, and so being caught and found out as a kestrel and sent into the Quarry would simply be a waste.

It's the only thing that carries him forward, being able to treat patients like a normal doctor outside of the Company.



A Will To Fight

There's a small safehouse for the Kestrels that Julian has set up his tiny, covert clinic underneath a distillery. He joined the movement for this--the simple, no-strings-attached pleasure of healing the way he was taught, and, in his opinion, born to do. For anyone that gets hurt or injured or sick that doesn't feel comfortable for whatever reason wandering around in an attempt to get proper medical care, Julian is there--particularly for kestrels that are getting themselves into trouble messing with any shrikes, no questions asked.

That's a lie. Julian needs to ask some questions, but only as related to medical care.

If you're a buddy of his in the kestrels, you will find him here most evenings.


Other

Every once in a while, Julian just needs a drink to, counterintuitively, clear his head from a day of working with the callous people of the Company.

He can often be found in a corner of a dingy bar near where he lives in the mid-rings of the Congregation, drinking either a beer or sipping on the awful distilled spirits available near them. It's no secret that he works with the Company and is Cotillion-trained, but the good doctor prefers to live out here, where people need him the most. For those that know the Kestrels or are known Kestrel sympathizers, they'll recognize that Julian is one of them.

However, someone could always mistake him as a sympathizer for Parliament and get upset at him too.

[ooc: If there's anything else you want to play out, let me know! Totally open for it!]

Other

[plainsimple]

"I see you're out here pretending to be of the people," Garak drawls, coming over to Julian. It is not the safest of things to do. He has his suspicions and he knows that Julian has his own, but there's something alluring about the threat the doctor might pose. Intoxicating, even.

He trails his fingers lightly over Julian's back as he scoots around behind the man, smirking by the time he sets his cup on the table and fully joins the man.

"How has your day gone, doctor?"

kai parker | tvd

[hiyakai]

SO SHALL IT BE

[ only a week away before the quarry officially begins.

he has participated in the event enough times to go through the process without much thought. it's usually the same old shit — training, backstage preps, and interviews on rotation. it has never been hard for him to garner attention. labeled a murderer for killing his entire family in his early teens, kai parker is a repeat snipe with an established root as a renowned criminal in the sectors. his outwardly sociable and affable personality only makes him more noticeable on and off camera.

it's a genuine wonder whether the guy's here to sate an unquenchable bloodlust or he just simply has a death wish because it's pretty evident that he's smart enough not to get caught without meaning to. but really, where would the fun be if he didn't keep people guessing?

whatever his truth may be, he doesn't hide his enthusiasm from the others, a friendly and carefree smile almost perpetually on his face. he's relaxed and unfazed, and he isn't shy about approaching any of the other participants for a hearty chat. some of them he recognizes from previous quarries; others are new and exciting.

throughout the week, he will be leisurely going through the routine, working with his stylists and charming the crowd onscreen. he will also be actively trying to get to know everyone whether they be a participant or otherwise. he might even offer up some tips and tricks to the guineas because he's nice like that.

when he isn't going around spreading his version of joy, he will either be busy tapping away at his phone or he will have disappeared entirely, most likely returning to the sectors for work-related purposes or whatever the guy gets up to on his spare time. nothing for anyone to worry about though. ]

NO WAY TO LIVE

[ shouldn't you be preparing for the quarry?

it's both an excellent and legitimate question. he should be busy with the quarry preparations right now, but it isn't like he can just put a stop to his life for one life-or-death event. he can squeeze some productivity (and me time) in between! no point in staying still fidgeting over what may or may not happen next week.

no, it's not really his style, is it?

his, let's call 'em, assignments aren't nulled just because he has landed himself in "hot waters" again.

besides, if he doesn't make it out this time, then he needs to make sure (again) that his last will will be carried out. otherwise, he'll be leaving behind a lot of unfinished business and he really hates not tying up loose ends. his reputation as a totally reliable and top notch criminal would take a considerable blow, dead or not.

it's called having a smidgen of accountability.

also, he wants to drink and party a little. hit up a bar, sing some karaoke, maybe meet a nice guy or girl who he can have some fun with.

point is, kai parker is still open for business. if someone wants to hire him, he is available for a chat. if somebody wants to befriend him, he will never say no to new friendships. if someone wants to ask him where all his bells go towards, well, maybe mind your own beeswax, man. that's personal information! ]

WILDCARD

[ ooc; i made the prompts pretty broad, so feel free to get creative with them! overall, kai will just be traveling back and forth between quarry prep and personal work/life things. his plotting comment/history can be found here. he is also open for network/inbox stuff, so don't hesitate to touch.

if you want to do something else or you have a specific idea in mind, you can contact me at voicelog or pm. ]

no way to live

[realists]

[ dipping into the aerie proper means jyn draws some looks from the congregation — she's easily clocked as parliament based on her pristinely put together outfit and the clack of her heels across the floor — but it doesn't seem to bother her. she's walked between the volary and the company so often the past 15 years that she's more of a fixture of the aerie than most members of parliament.

she sinks into the booth next to kai easily, leaning over to kiss his cheek before sipping her drink through a paper straw. ]

Hello darling. Getting into trouble again?

[ how else did he wind up in the quarry? ]

Elim Garak | Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

[plainsimple]

[In Wait]

There's an almost meditative quality to lying in wait, ready to strike and bring someone in. It's his favorite part of the job, really. He's done the groundwork, is in position. Soon comes the fight and the state will be served. He hears movement and braces. They're here.


[Plain Simple Gardener]

Due to the dual patronage of Marian Hawke and Homelander, Garak's able to run a business he loves as a cover. Sometimes it's a little mundane, creating delicate floral displays and breeding various addictive plants to make new variations by himself. There aren't a lot of customers, after all. Any visitor breaking up the routine gets his full attention both because it means he's less bored and it might mean he gets a little information...and he can't say for certain which he likes the most. It's a good thing no one asks that.

[Wildcard me]

[[ooc: I have a plotting post here, and feel free to toss me something!]]

tell me if this doesn't work c:

[flowerpressings]

Henry's in his store again, like clockwork. The boy is always smiling, especially around plants. His hands are grubby and his clothes have holes in them, but Garak never actually turns him away.

He's even got money this time! He approaches the counter, emptying his pocket. A small, small amount of money comes out, along with a candy wrapper.

"Do I have enough? I want carnations. Ah... dianthus caryophyllus!"

Thor / Cardinal

[jarnbjorn]

1. 'cause we are living in a material world
a party held in the parliament, open to all. feel free to use in your own prompts

[ Life's hard when everything's been handed to you on a silver platter and suddenly this one single thing isn't.

Thor's father (who didn't get him into the Cardinals, why would you even say that, Thor got in all by himself!!) is hosting a dinner party and Thor has to be there instead of literally anywhere else more exciting. He doesn't try to hide it, spending most of the evening slouched in his chair at the table, or staring glassy-eyed at the door.

Most of the Cardinals are old and boring, after all. Thor doesn't give a shit about nonsense like maintaining alliances or being seen to be worthwhile patrons for the lower classes looking to rise. He just wants to do what he wants and have fun.

But every once in a while inspiration strikes and he'll start up a conversation with whoever's nearby: ]

The Quarry had better not have some piss-poor theme this time. I still remember two rounds ago I just about fell asleep with how uninterested I was in the thing. It felt old and stale. The only exciting part was when that one man ripped his own arm off to use as a weapon.

[ or, if you're someone he actually likes-- ] Can you believe my father had the audacity to threaten to cut my allowance if I didn't stay he whole night? He's so old and out of touch, I hope someone poisons him.

[ and to any handsome young men or women he'll turn on the charm ] You're far too lovely to be in a dull place like this. What do you say we leave and find somewhere a little more intimate to talk?

2. and i am a material girl
out and about

[ Sure, Thor uses his powers to help maintain the atmosphere in the aviary. He helps water the crops, keep the humidity levels in check, purify the air. It's a good look for the family, he keeps hearing.

....but when he's not otherwise busy, he enjoys heading down to the lower areas of the city to find other ways to use his atmospheric powers. Making it rain on a shopkeeper's stall and ruining all their goods is a particular favourite of his, as is turning puddles to ice and watching people skid about on them.

But today he's picking passers-by at random and using his power to remove the air from the space around their heads until they pass out.

Join him in his fun? Find some way to stop him? Or are you the unfortunate one he's picked on? ]

3. experience has made me rich
warbler posting in the week before the arena

@dtf
just a heads up, if you're the lead arena engineer and this quarry SUCKS then you better have a good explanation
the last two rounds were b o r i n g as all fuck

--

any rooks out there looking for some work, let's help each other out

--

everyone saw the list of guineas? my money's on malachi

are there bets on which one of the lovey dovey couple gets offed first? HEY GUINEAS. SEE IF YOU CAN KILL ONE OF THEM IN FRONT OF THE OTHER

1

[gossipkinesis]

[ You'd think that Margo would be used to Thor's nonsense by now, given that she's known him all her life. And as a younger girl, she found his pranks an actual laugh riot, even going so far as to suggest some of the crueler ones to him. And sure, they'd had their dalliances after one too many drinks (granted, who hadn't Margo had a dalliance with?).

But she's not interested in repeating the experience now. Perhaps a few months ago she would have considered his offer but for now, she rolls her eyes at him and takes a long taste of her drink before she turns towards him, eyebrow raised, her dress clinging to her in all the right ways.

For all she knows, he's drunk and didn't recognize her from behind (though he should) or maybe he's just trying his luck.] Been there, done that, Thor.

jyn erso ✧ open

[realists]

soak up the glory ✧

[ it's been a couple months since her father died and jyn became the last remaining erso in the aerie. she hasn't been mourning really, she wasn't particularly close to her father but there are a lot of complicated emotions she doesn't want to think about and so for a while she's been squirreled away in her now too large quarters — it was built for three and now it holds one — with only her dearest friends visiting.

but a new quarry is starting and it's time to get back in the swing of things. luckily the volary is never lacking for parties and jyn finds herself easily slipping back into one already started, all dressed up, snagging a glass of something shimmery green she doesn't even question. it'll probably be good.

she glances around, trying to find a friend she can wile away a few hours with. ]

no way to live ✧

[ jyn was born and raised in the volary, but when she was very tiny and couldn't sleep, her mother would take her for walks through the rest of the aerie. after her mother died, jyn took up the habit herself as a way to feel close to her mother and to attempt to stay close with her father, working away at the company. it isn't as if anyone can stop her now, they'd given a five year old the power to control people, they can't be surprised when jyn absolutely uses her power to let herself in and out of the volary.

she looks out of place in the aerie proper, well fed and neat, flush with bells, but she walks with the air of someone who has never felt out of place in her entire life. there's shop selling fruit chips that she stops at, buying a packet to munch on as she walks.

despite being a born rook, she's an easy target for children. jyn is an orphan, she doesn't relish standing by and watching another child become an orphan because they'd stolen an apple and their parent was sent to the quarry. not when she could toss a few bells their way before any shrike could intercede.

she's done just that when she looks up to spot someone watching her. ]

What?

wildcard ✧

( go where your heart takes you. BACKGROUND and PLOTTING for your perusal, jyn is a whole ass babe and you are free to TEXT HER @ stardust )

soak up the glory.

[gossipkinesis]

[ margo's all dressed up and ready to go herself. and while margo excels at this kind of event, all charm and wit and sex appeal, she feels a little less inclined to mingle this evening and so, she's pleased when she sees her dearest friend, grabbing herself a drink, calling out as she crosses the room towards her (despite already having a drink in her hand)]

Get me one of those!

John Murphy | The 100 | Cardinal

[reproached]

AU info | plotting

CLOSED to Homelander

[reproached]

[ It's an old trick. Murphy's been entertaining his godson with this game since John was just a boy, and even a century later, neither of them have tired of it.

It begins, as always, with the two of them mingling among the commoners in the lowest level of the Volary. This is as close to adventure as Murphy typically gets nowadays, as it's been ages since anything gave him reason to abandon the comfort behind these walls. This is the level where fresh blood tends to circulate, however, which makes it thrilling enough to him. The people who don't know him also don't know what to expect from him, which is key to this particular form of amusement.

He and John have taken seats at their favorite spot, an exclusive joint that caters to the highest among the high and therefore employs the lowest lows, the ones who won't be missed when tastes run a little deadly. Drinks in hand, settled into their plush booth, Murphy surveys the various staff before pointing out one young waitress and murmuring to John: ]

That one looks feisty. I bet she bites.

Henry (Tewkesbury) | Enola Holmes | OTA

[flowerpressings]

1a. the streets of the Aerie

[Henry (Tewkesbury) can usually be found around, in inner and outer sectors, though he usually stays in the outer. Sometimes he just sits and watches people, eating a little loaf of bread. Maybe another time, he's walking along, reading a book, and he runs straight into you. Or maybe he's doing a card trick for money, a hat sitting on the ground with a few bills in it.]

1b. wildcard

[Got something else in mind? Hit me up on plurk or just write a starter! Whatever works for you!]

closed to kestrels

[flowerpressings]

2a. Kestrel safehouse

[Henry can be found in a various safehouses throughout the day, checking on food and blanket supplies. He does a lot of manual labor in hopes he'll earn the kestrels' respect. He's earned it with some, but not with others, and he wants to fit in badly.

At the moment he's scrubbing the floor. Probably no one would notice if the floors went un-scrubbed, and it's tough work. His nails are dirty and he wears a coat with a missing button, a shirt with a hole at the bottom. The kestrels have kept him alive, and he's grateful.

He notices someone standing nearby and says,] Watch your step! It's slick.

2b. Kestrel safehouse

[When he's not trying so hard to get respect, he sits in corners on a blanket, curled up and reading a ragged-looking book. He keeps pressed flowers between the pages, little beautiful reminders of his time with Garak.

Today, he has a small bouquet lying next to him, which he seems pretty protective of.] Don't step on the flowers! I still need to get them in water.

2c. Kestrel safehouse; closed to anyone with au cr with him (as plotted on the plotting post or plurk. Contact me if you want this prompt and don't have plotting with him.)

[Lifting a pencil up and down with your mind is not very exciting, Henry finds. He's doing it, though, lazily letting it float in the air. Someone enters the safehouse, and he approaches them, falling into step with them as the pencil drops to the ground behind him.]

Hey, you were out for a long time. [Then, without even waiting for a breath:] Hey, can I ask you about Prometheus?

margo hanson - the magicians - rook

[gossipkinesis]

soak up the glory...

[ if you wish to see the cardinal's daughter, margo (a powerful rook in her own right), you do not need to look too hard. she is easy enough to spot with her striking features, haughty look and the eye patch she wears ( the fabric of which always seems to match whatever it is she is wearing perfectly).

(A) most often, she is at some event, some party. and she is every bit the rook she was born, if she does not like you, she will judge you, perhaps even dare to say something rude about you just when you are within earshot. if she likes you, she will greet you with a kiss on each cheek and share whatever gossip she might have or complement what you are wearing or tell you who designed her dress. (the eye patch to match, of course). or if she pretends to like you, she might do all those things as well. or she might ask for a drink. perhaps you are one of her past lovers (male or female, it does not matter), she finds delight in many forms but lately, she has not been in touch or asked for a late-night booty call. there's a reason for it. good luck getting it out of her though.

if she is not at a party then she is (B) waiting for the conclave to end their session, waiting to speak to her father (aka Stephen Strange) or some other cardinal (not her brother Homelander, gross, he's the worst and she's way better than him) whom she might need to deliver a message. but you might also see her in (C) common area, heading towards her rooms with whatever treasures she'd found for herself at whatever shop she had visited. if you're a rook, she might stop you to show you her find. if you're a magpie, she will tell you to get out of her way, she has no time for your lot. she was born a rook, she is the daughter of a powerful cardinal after all and she believes this city's structures have a purpose, a rhyme AND reason.

and why shift away from that, right?]

message her...

[ hit up her inbox or comment here @ popthebubbly ]

wildcard...

[ come at me with ideas! here is margo's BACKGROUND + PLOT COMMENT ]

[livrer]

[ Sébastien is holding a drink, something pink and bubbly and served in a tall, delicate flute woven in gold and glass. He walks amongst others decked in lace and sparkle and fine fabrics, his own attire a respectable sort, shiny and delicate and custom-made to fit by someone outside of the Volary. It's clear he's here with a purpose; he's here to impress.

He makes small-talk with familiar faces, well-acquainted with the protocol and the pattern amongst the rich and the powerful as though every silver stitch in his jacket is a reflection of the pedigree of his upbringing. A falsity, of course, because he came from the lowest of the low — and it's a fact not so easily forgotten by some members of the Volary either. (Those he does his best to avoid, either by way of pretending not to see them at all, or purposefully making the point to say hello.)

Still, in all of his schmoozing, there's one familiar face he hopes to see tonight, as though he hasn't seen her only mere hours earlier in the day. And the smile that spreads across his features when he spots her is hard to hide, because it's soft and genuine, but he takes his time making his way to her. They're still playing this game, after all — and discretion is key. ]

Quite the party.

[ He leans in to kiss her cheek, polite, ever polite — lingering long enough to move in, breath hot against her ear: ] Hmm. Like something from a dream. [ And then he pulls back, offers her the glass in hand, and smiles. ]

andy ( the old guard ) cardinal

[scythias]

▶ 01 SOAK UP THE GLORY

---

( sometimes, she gets bored. she thinks herself untouchable and impenetrable but sometimes, that's boring. sometimes, she wants someone to challenge her so she can decimate them and have a good laugh.

but, very few people like to challenge someone like herself so she gets bored. and that means she leaves her comfortable surroundings and comes to spend time around those below and beneath her.

she figures that she should keep up on the goings on, listen to the gossip and get a handle on what's occurring before she makes her moves.

most people find her easy to talk to because she rarely talks back. they babble on and on, telling her all about themselves, dropping their guard and letting her in on secrets they shouldn't have told.

it's easy but boring.

today, she finds herself wandering down. she finds herself strolling through the various halls where the rooks and magpies live, peering into open doors and chatting idly with those that catch her attention.

eventually, she finds herself on the lower floor, among those that she rarely ever sees. she dislikes it but it's a good way to listen to conversations that she otherwise might not hear.

besides, they do serve some interesting foods down here and she likes to indulge. )

▶ 02 WILDCARD

---

( feel free to throw something else at me if you've got it in mind. i'm down! )

[realists]

[ jyn doesn't... care about most of the cardinals. it's not borne of disrespect, but the natural byproduct of being born into this life. if they are royalty, she isn't anti-monarchy, she simply doesn't care. it's indifference more than anything.

and then there is andromache.

she is not indifferent to andromache because she's had a crush on andromache since she was five and the fearsome woman held her hand before she'd gotten her powers. she doesn't remember after that, but she remembered those steely blue eyes and the firm set of her jaw.

and she jumps now when she sees the woman peering in her open door. ]

Hi.

marcos diaz ( the gifted ) shrike

[heliophilous]

▶ 01 NO WAY TO LIVE

---

( there's a feeling in the air that says something's coming, something's going to happen. he can see it in the lines of those he passes, that tension that tells him that they're waiting for it too.

the quarry's coming. you would think that they'd be used to it by now but no, people seem to grow more agitated and restless the closer it gets.

it makes getting what he wants from them a little harder because they're so emotional. ridiculous really but if it's what he has to do.

marcos likes to spend most of his time in the outer rings, moving through dark alleys and coming up on those unsuspecting fools who think they're alone. it's fun and he gets a thrill out of it. once he shakes them down and moves on his way, he enjoys the spoils of his day.

he slips in and out of bars at random, always taking a seat at a booth with his back to a wall and always drinking without paying. it's probably pushing his luck but he doesn't care. e knows what he is, what kind of power he has and he's not going to let anyone tell him otherwise. )

▶ 02. WILDCARD

---

( feel free to throw something else at me, i'm good with whatever! )

william adiyodi ( the magicians ) rook

[delayable]

▶ 01 SOAK UP THE GLORY

---

( if there's a party, william's going to find it and he's going to try and make himself the center of attention. the more people that put their eyes on him, the louder he gets talked about, the angrier his parents get.

it all works out, doesn't it? it's a fool proof plan that william's perfected and it's made him quite the party animal around the volary.

there's a drink in his hand whenever someone might see him though he's never sloppy drunk. he's just happy and outgoing, willing to chat with anyone who wants to have a conversation. as the night progresses and the party goes on, he gets a little louder and a little more attention seeking because why not?

he can, he's allowed, and he wants to. )

▶ 02 NO WAY TO LIVE

---

( on the rare occasions where penny isn't taking up space at a party, he ventures out into the inner rings because he can and he's curious.

he's grown up thinking that he's better than these people, that he's lucky to be who he is because he doesn't have to deal with the quarry and what it comes with.

but, he's curious and he can't help himself. he wants to know the type of people that do go to the quarry and what it's like.

just walking around doesn't tell him much but he ducks into a bar and finds a seat, listening to people talk about the upcoming quarry round, who they think might go and what they think might happen.

he sips on a drink slowly, leaning over the bar, trying to be inconspicuous for once while he listens to people talking around him. )

▶ 03 WILDCARD

---

( if you'd like to do something different, feel free to throw it at me. )

no way to live;

[wittingly]

[ Ian's not a fighter. He has broad shoulders, he's muscular, but that's all a product of what he does for a living. At the end of the day he's an engineer, a nerd, and it was only through brains and luck that he survived his one and only quarry. He also has too even a temper to fight; diplomacy is his strong suit, he's a calm and reasonable guy.

Not that anyone can tell right now when he stands up so fast he knocks over a bar stool, then grabs the fabric of somebody's shirt with both fists to haul them up right after. Over the scuffling and the din, he snarls out a raspy: ]

How fucking dare you? Do you even hear yourself? They're people- she's my sister, what the fuck is wrong with you?

[ Obviously not literally, there are no siblings here. Regardless, it's proven just how much of a fighter he's not when the guy easily shoves him backward straight into Penny. ]

Tony Stark | MCU | Rook

[nonstopnarcissist]

The Volary - R&R

[ Despite the deadline rushing at The Company with bared fangs and open maw- publicity matters, public opinion (to a degree) matters, and Tony takes the time to dust himself off, put on the polish, and make the rounds at the local events when his schedule allows. He's bright, he's brilliant, he's charming when he puts effort into it and around Quarry Time? He must put in the effort. All is well, everything's right on schedule, the list of names isn't at all worrying, nothing needs to be redesigned that'd be madness!

Utter madness.

Which isn't at all why he tucks himself against a far wall now and then to breathe, dark eyes roaming the room for faces and names that he absolutely has to hit before he ducks back out. Scotch in hand, suit and tie in the usual red and gold, Tony shakes hands and drinks and laughs with the pretty, empty vessels of Parliament and their hangers-on.

Not that he doesn't have his own (technically) but it's a satisfactory enough arrangement. ]

The only thing I can promise for this Month's Quarry is that it'll be unlike anything you've ever seen. We've pulled out all the stops for this one, got some fresh perspectives, some real bright minds putting in the work- but if you've got feedback, DM me on Warbler. Especially if you've got suggestions.

[ Or later in the night, tie tucked and first few buttons of his shirt unfastened, ] I heard, once upon a time somewhere in history, that the real parties had actual fountains of champagne. Think that'd be too pretentious for The Company's wrap party? No?

Quarry Preparations - Crunchtime

[ Away from the glitter and glitz and vapid, petty conversation, away from the wheeling and dealing? Dressed down to warm denim and cotton, face clear of makeup and hair free of product, Tony focuses on his work. A veritable library of traps and easily modified segments of area for shelter for framing the best killboxes, for attracting the best kind of show. The theme's still up in the air but maybe something real and gritty? Something industrial? Flipping through concept treatment after concept treatment, scanning the names and bios of the combatants has him frowning. Something more natural isn't his bag but if they can rig it with vines like a jungle? No. He flips to the next slide. ]

I don't suppose post-apocalyptic hellscape is too on the nose?

[ Twisted rebar, rust, dust, water scarcity, environmental effects. Rigging a sandstorm would be difficult but not impossible. ]

Could swing the other way, do a frozen hellscape? No, I think we did one of those...two, three years ago? Ugh.

[ Now and then he wanders to check in on the rest of the Company, poking his head in for inspiration or feedback or just- passing around cups of tea. The wheeling and dealing here is less of the dazzle and flash and more the real shit- collaborating for a cohesive show. They're all on the hook, they're all putting in the hours. ]

I've got Jasmine, Peppermint, or Chamomile- pick your poison.

The Congregation - Train to Nowhere

[ Sometimes a man needs a break. For- inspiration, for the calming white noise of people, for a glimpse on the outermost edges of what lies beyond the Aviary. It's a reminder of why he's doing this. What's at stake. There's bound to be a better solution but getting any kind of traction on them has been so impossible it's- well it's an uphill climb, that's all. Howard took a crack at it, Tony's working on it. So he pulls on sunglasses and an oversized hoodie, pays a fair and tucks himself quietly off to one side, eyes on the widows as he rides incognito.

Relatively.

Any time the track passes near the outer walls he sits tense, contemplative, taking notes on paper, murmuring under his breath about the latest round of weather. If there are any variations. If it's getting better.

If it's getting worse. ]

Does it seem more or less nightmarish out there lately?

The Congregation - Tubthump'n

[ He takes a whiskey drink, he takes a-

Whiskey drink, honestly, beer, whiskey, the odd sip as he sits and settles in the various bars in the lower outskirts of the city. Not stirring trouble just- keeping an ear on the people they're meant to be sheltering with all their good works. The people he inevitably helps execute but- he can't afford to have emotions about that. Keeping them at a remove would be better but-

Knowing what frightens people? Makes for a better show. Rhodey used to do this for him but that's not so much an option anymore. Hunched in his usual uniform of 'just another bird, don't mind me' of a hoodie and sunglasses, Tony sits and sips and keeps an ear on the conversation around him for about an hour before paying, tipping (reasonably) well, and heading to the next bar. ]

Wildcard

[ Have something else in mind? My plotting comment is here! ]

R&R

[selfimage]

[ well, Tony, did you expect a Cardinal? ]

I sincerely hope so.

[ there's a bored drawl to his tone that matches the curve of his body. knuckles to his chin, head tilted to the side and legs crossed elegantly at the knee. there's a flowy, unearthly manner to his movements, as if the slight flicker of his wrists or the turn of his head ripple.

there's a tulip of mead between his dark nailed fingers, and he turns it slowly to create a mini-whirlpool in the glass. ]

The entertainment's been sorely lacking as of late. Though it wouldn't be my place to give feedback.

[ bright eyes narrow a little. ]

It's results I'm interested in.

John Blake | The Dark Knight Rises | Rook

[oversight]

SHALLOW_
( General Prompt - for backfilling or current AU interactions )

As the son of two Rooks, there's no falling upward, like some. John Blake is forced to work hard to make a name for himself, to honor his mother's legacy and distance himself from his father's, to keep upward mobility while still heralding otherwise unpopular ideology among his social class. It takes a special kind of person to juggle all that and somehow remain relevant.

In his ascent to the position he's essentially made for himself, he's remained relatively elusive. Some would say exclusive. His every day life outside the public eye is often up for debate and as a very eligible bachelor, it's become recently popular for Blake's love life to be the fascination of gossipers and neighbors alike.

He's practically famous for being famous and sometimes it really shows.

In the intervening years, it wouldn't be uncommon to receive sponsorship or patronage as part of his on-going efforts to honor his mother and help those in a more disadvantaged position. A person might also venture a quiet relationship, although it's rumored more often than not these unions are more for appearances than for the sake of building a future and a family. Later, when it's obvious that change needs to come from a radical pushing some will work with and against his sympathies towards the Kestrals, creating plenty of controversy and a little bit of danger for everyone involved.

VIP_

Easily and often hailed as much a social pariah as an enigmatic magnate, there is at least one area where there's little room for argument: John Blake throws notoriously good parties.

Most of his functions are intimate and well-organized, as finely tailored as the clothes and decor with which he surrounds himself. He has a well-paid team of the best, of course, all facilitating the details and generating the broad ideas, but it's always his finishing touches that bring the the vision into focus. The parties are small enough to feel exclusive, but large enough to sate the ever-important need for networking — and you'd better believe Blake picked all the players on that field specifically to further his own efforts (because that's just how things work). The live music, as always, is incredibly well-received.

At his current engagement, things are beginning to wind down. The fundraiser is meant to generate revenue for Blake's fledgeling movement towards offering an unbiased support system for participants, but it happens to coincide with the approach of the next arena run which is slated to be the most rigorous and contentious round to date.

"I needed one final push," Blake explains as he fusses with the ice in his watered down drink. Most have already said their goodbyes and drifted off for the evening, so this is a good time to get the host alone. "See, it's not about— right, right, it's the help we can offer that makes this crucial—" He doesn't seem to back down about the importance of his efforts which is a characteristic he shares with his mother. "Well, okay. Next time, next time," Blake tells the man trying to make his escape without opening his wallet.

Frowning, he watches the man go and glances over, narrowing paying attention to who he's talking to. "Tough loss," he sighs. "But I'll get him next time."

The Social Network_

R. John Blake ✔ @ apparentheir · 4h #tbt ✎ 39     ✄ 22     ✫ 899 R. John Blake ✔ @ apparentheir · 16h Perfection is an illusion. ✌ ✎ 198    ✄ 471    ✫ 2.4k R. John Blake ✔ @ apparentheir · 22h 👀 ✎ 485    ✄ 3.3k    ✫ 10.9k

WILDCARD_

[ Don't see something you're interested in here? Toss a random starter my direction and we'll see where it goes! Not sure what you want and looking to plot a little? Hit me up here. ]

[ character history ]
[ mood board ]
[ warbler ]

shallow_

[righteously]

[ Dean hasn't seen Blake in months — longer, maybe. That's the way things go with people living entirely different realities in entirely different worlds. Dean spends his days shoved up underneath some kind of vehicle or engine; mechanical traps, fork lifts, whatever, getting grease up to his elbows. Blake spends his days doing... whatever it is he does that Dean never actually got around to fully understanding. It involves a lot of parties, he knows. A lot of meetings. A lot of social, and none of that social takes place in his particularly mediocre sector.

Without seeing each other actively, there's not much of a reason for the two of them to run into one another.

Until, you know, he fucks up and gets his ass thrown in the next Quarry. He doesn't reach out, he doesn't ask, he doesn't advertise — hell, he doesn't court a single goddamn sponsor and he has no intention to.

Which is why he's surprised as hell when he gets notified that he has one, and his attendance at a small pre-quarry event is mandatory. Most people show up nice, even if it's supposed to be casual. The guineas all dress to try and impress, the snipes dress to intimidate. Dean wears a plain black tee and some jeans and doesn't give a single fuck that the person handing him a drink is wearing something better than him.

He scans the room, flicking his eyes from person to person, looking for any sign of recognition on anyone's face that might give away the fact that they're his bankroll. In hindsight, he should have guessed. ]

sam winchester ( parrot | the company )

[remorseful]

frozen in place ( closed to fellow company workers )

[Sam's at work when the news comes in. When it's apparent that Kyna will be put on trial with the rest of the Guineas, forced to prove that she has any right to live.

He sits still as his supervisor explains it to him. Kyna stole plans … Kyna was found passing on this information … Brady's the one who spotted it, who saw what she was doing … Chances are, she's one of them and she just wanted in through you.

It's that last one that almost makes him snap.

Now that it's two hours later, Sam leans forward to study the numbers in front of him. He looks more haphazard than usual today: his hair is loose, his shirt unbuttoned a couple buttons from the top, revealing a thin white T-shirt underneath. His forehead is permanently furrowed.

When he thinks he hears someone nearby, he turns toward them, eyes focusing.] Uh, sorry. What was that again? [It's possible, though, that no one said anything at all.]

clearing his head ( inner sector location, OTA )

[Once the news gets out, once the whole damn world knows that his girlfriend is heading into the Quarry, Sam takes to the streets to try to clear his head. It's been a couple days since he was told personally, but it's different seeing the responses. Isn't she dating Sam? I'm surprised no one thinks he's in on it.

And then fricken Brady's smug face in all of it. He wishes he could punch him. But punching someone is assault. He can't risk it. Can't risk his life turning into that.

The problem is this: he can't bring himself to be mad at Kyna. That she could get caught up in this. Probably because he knows the truth, knows that his ex-best friend has turned against him because that idiot thinks he can be elevated to Magpie status. And Sam—well, Sam could take or leave that. If it came his way? Fine. If not, then fine. It should be fine, fine, fine.

He doesn't mean to shoulder check someone in the street. When he does, a book falls out of his jacket pocket. Something about statistics, the history of them, whatever.] I wasn't—I'm not—[He's not okay. It goes without saying.] Are you okay?

the talk ( closed to kyna )

[What do you tell someone who's gotten completely screwed over because of you? The worst part is that he can't rush to her, can't tell her that he'll solve the problem. It won't be solved. It's only ever solved with someone going into hiding, sneaking away on the run and moving through rumored safehouses all throughout The Aerie. It sounds like hell.

The worst part is that he feels weird even … having a problem with it. Sam knows that some people end up there who shouldn't. He knows that. Some people just—have it happen to them and it's unfair. He's heard it before. He'll hear it again. There are some people who hate the designs he's made, because they specifically played to people's researched weaknesses.

When he's off work the day she's sent to the Quarry officially, even if it'll be a while yet before she's even in there, he messages her to tell her to meet him at his place.

And his place? His place isn't bad. Inner sector. Fresh coats of paint. The water's usually hot. Sam doesn't ask for a lot. He knows he lives better than most people, and if he kissed up to more Peacocks, he could do better. But he's fine just being good at his job. Favored.

He hasn't sent out a Chirp all day. They'll want to hear from him.

He tucks his phone into his bag after shutting it off, heading right into his place.] Hey Kyna. You here yet? [Because, of course, she has a key. If he has a ring picked out for her, she has a key.

God, he's screwed up everything for her.

Everything.]

wildcard

[All plotting for Sam is here, as well as relevant links! I am also running this event, so if you don't mind me being a touch slow, I will backtag into eternity! Or whenever we fail to get a notif. But either way! Let's goooo.]

[evocation]

[Of course Kyna's here. She's been waiting for him since she got the message, seesawing through her emotions. It's fine, she keeps telling herself. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine. Everyone knows that this happens—someone pisses off the wrong person or just gets caught in the crossfire and ends up in the Quarry without technically doing anything wrong. But it's still sort of their fault, isn't it? And even if it isn't, the Quarry still serves its purpose.

Kyna has helped prepare people for the Quarry who insisted that they didn't belong. She'd always brushed it off or figured it was a necessary evil. Now that it's happening to her, though, she can't help it. She's furious in a deep, consuming way that she's never been in her entire life.

That anger has dulled down into a sort of numbness now, and she hasn't found it in herself to be scared yet. Maybe that's a blessing. Something still twists in her when she hears Sam's voice, the sudden realization that even though he's been there for her through every low she's had the past few years, she's alone in this. Would it even be fair for her to tell him how she's really feeling? He's still going to have to go back to work and figure out the most entertaining ways to kill her.

She can't even blame him for that. It's just the way things are.

So, deep breath. Get it together, Kyna.]

I'm here.

[In the little kitchen, she means, sitting at the table. She looks exhausted, but otherwise fine.]

john strange (homelander) / cardinal

[laserbeams]

soak up the glory /

[ John's been a social butterfly since he was first introduced to Parliament as a kid, so he's not difficult to find if you want to chat with him. Unfortunately, that also means he is difficult to avoid if you'd rather not. If you're standing alone and you don't look busy he'll very well just come up and say hello. Were you trying to have some alone time? Too bad!

Though he's not usually the one throwing the party, he's a frequent party-goer. If you didn't explicitly invite him he may just waltz in anyway and pretend that you simply forgot. He can be found drinking, dancing, indulging in some fine dining, or playing some sometimes rather cruel party games like betting on who's going to die first in the next arena or hassling some poor Carrion.

If you're keen on some less savory activities, he'll tag along. Just don't get them both caught or he'll whine at you for weeks.

Outside of party life, when it's time for serious Cardinal business, he'll get serious. He stands tall and still with his arms behind his back like a drill sergeant, not a hint of good humor on his face. It's hard to believe that this is the same person who was making an ass of himself at parties the night before, but he's put a lot of effort into being a real Cardinal when it counts. ]

warbler / @haliaeetus

[ public social media posts ]

1. Lovely day at the Volary! So many vibrant small businesses have found a home right here in our humble tower. Maybe yours will be next?
2. Can I get a BIG SHOUTOUT to all our hard-working engineers and designers at The Company? You guys are the ones who make it happen!
3. [ just a picture of him looking laid-back and smiling, like the nice personable guy he is. ]

[ private messages to others in Parliament ]

1. Alright, we've seen the lineup, who's biting the bullet first? My bet's on the old guy.
2. Someone took my sunglasses out of my pocket after I passed out at the party. Any idea who? I'll kick their ass.
3. I'm bored. Let's do something.

wildcard /

[ anything goes, or feel free to hit me up at dandymott or vellocet#7191 for plotting! ]

for nate;

[laserbeams]

[ John doesn't bother asking permission before he takes a seat right next to Nate at the party. He's a big fan, really, those quarry matches he was in were all so entertaining. They don't make 'em like that anymore. Given that Stephen was one of his patrons, John already knows him pretty well. Out of all the previous winners he only knows Bucky better. ]

Nate! It's been a while! [ Probably a nice reprieve, but unfortunately that was over now. He claps Nate on the back with overly familiar playful affection, and smiles. ] How've you been?

yusuf al-kaysani | open

[malta]

𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 —

[ the congregation is all joe has known, born and raised in the apartment above his parent's — now his — textile and print shop. it's hard but there are pockets of lightness, his friends, his beloved husband, his art. they want for a lot in the aerie, but yusuf doesn't want for the important things.

and sometimes, he is lucky enough to share. when a particularly bedraggled someone passes the shop while he's standing in the doorway sketching, joe calls out: ]

Come in, my husband made soup.

[ he gestures inside, smile indulgent. come eat the soup. if the someone is question is someone yusuf knows, the request is a little more forceful, "Get inside, Nicolò made soup." ]

𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 —

[ in the kestrel safehouses, he goes by "joe". he is pretty determined to keep his double lives very seperate and flat out will not answer to his given name. joe is a kestrel, yusuf is not.

at the moment, he's settled over a table with his sketch book, drawing different variations of a bird in a cage, a bird breaking out of a cage, a bird near a cage, the symbolism is clear enough he figures, but he can't settle on which one he likes best. after a few more tries, joe scraps the whole endeavor and closes his sketchbook. he won't bring this one home, it stays in the safehouse.

he stands with a sigh and stretches. ]

Alright, who needs messages sent?

[ joe isn't the messenger but he knows a fair few. ]

𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘥 —

( go where your heart takes you! BACKGROUND and PLOTTING for your perusal or TEXT HIM @ alkaysani )

[sparklequeen]

[ Glimmer doesn't come out this way too often. She's too afraid--afraid that it would bring the attention of the wrong people on the still down-trodden people of the Congregation. Maybe they'll think they had something to do with what her and her mom were doing. Still... she tries to get out here. Especially now that it's been almost a year, exactly since that awful, awful day. She's not sure if she's been recognized or not as she turns more fully towards the doorway. ]

Hey, Yusuf.

[ She's dressed well, at least. The dubious benefits of Quarry celebrity and "good" connections. ]

What kind of soup?

clarke griffin | kestrel / current quarry participant

[strove]

a ticking time bomb ( closed to kestrels )

[These days, there aren't many opportunities for Clarke to smile. The truth is, it seems like her brow has been set with her lips in a grim straight line for quite some time. She doesn't have a whole lot of joy anymore. It was already waning over the years since her father died in the Quarry, but she kept on. She had to, far away from her mother's mistakes. She had to. But now with her mother dead, it's—different. Worrying.

But she's a Kestrel now. She's driven. Focused. Though anyone asking for a clear thought of where she's going will find that all she wants is for it to end.]

a. getting caught— [It wasn't up for debate. For the big plan, for what was happening inside of the Quarry itself, Clarke would go inside and raise some hell. The big thing turned out to be that Clarke didn't want to be caught stealing food or blankets. That wasn't a big enough blow. No, she intends to try to take down a Rook or three. Her power is dangerous and destructive—just like her mind these days.

She draws a hood over her hair.] Our scouts say that a few of those Cocks come out around this time every day to wander civilization, all to make themselves feel better. [Maybe one of them will even be Jyn. Just maybe.

She lifts her chin, proud and defiant.] I'm ready to make them regret it.

[Whether Clarke succeeds at that is up for debate, but she sure as hell is going to get caught.]

b. the waiting game— [Now that Clarke's been caught, it's a matter of waiting. The problem with Clarke Griffin is that she's always been a bundle of energy. As a medic, she worked in clinics around the clock to keep her mind off the screwed up world. As a student at the Cotillion, she took as many classes as possible—too many, in fact, and she did well in all of them. And now that she's a Kestrel, sitting idly while hitting scheduled "preparation" appointments feels like it's too long.]

Is there anywhere I'm needed? Anything I can do to help us get set up?

quarry preparations ( open to other current participants, stylists, etc. )

[Unsurprisingly, Clarke's gimmick is her anger. Anger that her father died trying to do good. Anger that her mother's death was caused by her guilt from that, leading her to spiral and try to nullify any of her emotions once and for all. Anger at herself for not being able to help, for being a hopeless student who thought that she could skate by in the world. She always believed in doing what was right and just, all instilled by her father, but it came with a price of coming from a world like this.

As one of the Company people comes her way, she narrows her gaze, lifts her chin, and spits out the words,] Do you think I want your help? Your branding? I can do without.

[Clarke could play for sponsorship, could try to survive, but she doesn't care to at this point. If she does, she takes it away from someone else. Two powers should be enough. She can protect others in there until the Kestrels strike, or die trying along the way.

That's her plan, and she's sticking to it.]

wildcard

[All of Clarke's plotting / relevant information is here! Like I said on my Sam top level, I'm going to be writing this event and handling most of the incoming inquiries, so I'll be at risk of being slow.

That said, Clarke is mostly presently available to current Quarry participants, as well as any former participants who might spot someone who's that angry, and fellow Kestrels. I'm down for flashbacks, people checking in on her after they find out that she's going in, and more!]

a ticking time bomb (a)

[variate]

[ there had been a pattern that he'd been seeing in Clarke for a little bit, and when the opportunity was there, he accompanied here. this time was no exception. there's a hood pulled over his head, a dark jacket over a dull-colored hoodie. it's unfortunate that no matter how much he tries to blend in, he always sticks out just a little bit. ]

Yeah, I know, I just ...

[ his lips set in a thin line. ]

amos burton | the expanse | shrike

[baltimores]

> out and about (the congregation)

[ Simply put, he does not give a fuck.

He knows that's not common among his peers. Doesn't really get why. They're Shrikes, what's anyone going to do to them if the general public knows? There's nothing they can do.

He enjoys the personal bubble he gets just from being out and about when in uniform; of course he'd want that to extend to his everyday life. It's not that he hates people. He's just more comfortable without them around, and when most people look at him, they tend to steer clear. It's nice.

And besides. Say he gets off shift, is in the mood for a drink now. What's he supposed to do, go back home and change? Walking into a dive bar and just taking his mask off, keeping its blank face staring out at others from beside him, so he can drink is so much more efficient. ]


> along the outskirts (the congregation)

[ He spends more and more time in the inner sectors, along the Volary, in the Volary now - the perks of Cardinal patronage, and he'll never take that for granted - but his favourite place is still in the outermost sectors, along the wall.

There's something soothing, to him, about looking at the storms raging outside, seeing the toxic environment swirling around, just out of reach. Growing up, the stories about being able to see bones just along the outskirts had fascinated him. A way to completely disappear. There'd been something appealing about that, once. He'd never been able to spot any though.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel most at home out here. He's not keen on reliving any aspect of his childhood, but there's an unmistakeable feeling of home, like he may be able to rise from the muck but the grime will never fully wash off and maybe it shouldn't.

The other added benefit is the kind of person who makes their home out here. He should know, since he was one of them once. They know the punishment for committing a crime; they don't necessarily care. Violence can be almost cheerful out here, and if he's not on the clock, well, it's not like he has to arrest anyone. If it's an infraction against him, well, that's not a crime, that's life as it always was, and he can take care of himself.

Seeks it out, sometimes, but never initiates. He's more dignified than that now.

Maybe. ]


> wildcard

[ character history | plotting thread | also on plurk at cadiai or discord at arii#6412! I am open to just about anything, feel free to hit me up! ]

out and about.

[withmeinparadise]

Jesus.

[ He makes a habit of drinking in some of the divier bars in the Congregation--why the hell not, right? Sure, he sticks out a little in his immaculate tailored suits, but he's more than capable of holding his own against pickpockets and muggers, and the prices are damned good.

Problem is, sometimes it means the trash gets dragged in, too, and by the look on his face, it just sat the hell down near him. That fucker, with a head like a chopping block--Sam knows that fucker. ]

You make your quota today, or you still on the clock?

sam drake.

[withmeinparadise]

the hard sell.

At this point, if you're familiar with the backstage aspects of the Quarry, Sam Drake's an institution of sorts. Past victor, sure, whatever, but that was decades ago, two measly wins from before some of the brats in the Quarry these days were even born. No, these days he's a terror in a brightly coloured suit, the hard bargain being sold while one of the handsomest snipes to come out of the Quarry smiles for the camera. Samuel F. Drake, agent, publicist, and right-hand man to Nathan Drake. They're cousins. Completely normal.

The F stands for fuck you, got ours.

Generally speaking, if your name isn't Nathan, he doesn't give a shit about your chances. But occasionally, when Nate's not going into the Quarry himself, he picks up a little talent advisement on the side. Call it a hobby.

Which means, if you've come into his office--a small room with a messy desk, plastered with digital Nathan this-and-that on the walls, old ad campaigns, awards, whatever else--you might be in need of some advice for not getting murdered. Or maybe you're a friend dropping by, or a rival, or--hell, maybe you're selling chocolate to raise money for orphans, who knows? Everyone always ignores the NO SOLICITORS sign next to the door.

"Got a little time between calls," he says, feet up on the desk like a goddamn asshole. "What is it?"

--

around town.

He shows up at swanky parties in shiny suits that're tailored within an inch of their lives. And unlike his brother cousin, he has a hell of a time going--Sam loves a party, loves talking to people, especially loves the possibilities for making his brother's way a little easier when it comes to dealing with Parliament assholes. He bugs rich assholes, he bugs Quarry designers, he bugs victors, he especially bugs pretty women who look like a good lay. Sam's a mosquito in everyone's ear.

He was born Congregation, though, and he's pretty sure he'll die Congregation, too--and since they have the better bars, he's not too fussed about it. (Besides, the goal here is for his cousin to do okay. He'll gladly watch him turn into a Rook (hell, into a goddamn protein bar) if it means Nathan's happy.) He's easy to spot in a bar: conservatively dressed, but in brilliant colours, as anywhere else. And whether you've got a bone to pick with him or you want to try to get in good with the Drake family, he'll probably hear you out. Might even take the bait if you try to start a fight.

--

pick a card, any card.

[ Want to do something else? Hit me. If you want to discuss first, I've got a plotting comment over here, and you can also always reach out to me at prettydoes.

BTW, I'm fine with brackets or prose, whatever you prefer. ]

the hard sell

[evocation]

[Kyna knows how Nate and Sam's whole thing goes. She knows how he usually handles the Quarry, and really, it doesn't come up much. What's the point? It's just work, or so Kyna tells herself. They're all just trying to make their lives better.

If Nate were going to be a participant this time, she wouldn't even be here. There wouldn't be a point. She likes Sam, and she knows he likes her, but Nate comes first. Again, just the way it is.

But she really, really doesn't want to die.]

Don't be a dick. Did you hear?

[He must have heard, and if he hasn't, he'll have guessed from the expression on her face, from the fact that she doesn't make a crack at his suits like she always does.]

Wade Wilson | Marvel Comics | Snipe

[ishotyouuu]

i. I know the score like the back of my hand

When Wade was a child, he'd had rather idealistic goals. Grow up, become a Shrike like his father, lock away bad guys and defend the innocent like a proper hero. Then his mother died, his father fell out of favor and hard times and cynicism did the rest. Over the years his dreams and goals had warped into one immutable universal truth: You could only rely on yourself, and you needed to take every opportunity to claw yourself out of the ditch that life saw fit to toss you in-- regardless of the multitude of bodies you stepped over to get there.

It was a credo that has served him well in recent years. His heightened status remains strong among Parliament as long as he continues to rake in winnings in the Quarry, and if the general population happens to hate him for it-- well. They just don't have what it takes to set your sights on a goal and just take it, come what may. In Wade's mind, the risks are greatly outnumbered by the rewards.

And what fantastic rewards they are! Wade's steadily lost track of the amount of parties and Parliament get-togethers he's been invited to. If you're a regular at one of the many fancy soirees, odds are you'll see Wade there, easily wooing the upper crust with the good looks and boyish charm that had garnered him popularity outside the arena. Are you a friend of his, an adoring fan, or just someone who wants a chance to curry favor? Wade's always open for some scintillating conversation.

ii. I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man

It's not all whiskey and blowjobs, though. Being a multiple-time winner means that there's a whole bunch of people clamoring for your crown, and with another Quarry event steadily looming on the horizon, Wade's got his work cut out for him. There's appointments to make with his stylist, regular visits to the gym, interviews to film-- and, of course, bars to frequent for the aforementioned whiskey and blowjobs. All work and no play makes Wade a dull boy, after all, and he's gotta allow some time to himself to blow off steam. If you need to track Wade down, odds are you'll find him at any one of these.

iii. Wildcard

[Interested in Wade for another reason? Hit me up! Plotting comment can be found here, and his inbox is here if your character wants to speak to him in private. As always, my plurk is pillowtalkative if you've got something specific in mind you wanna plot out.]

ii;

[maisel]

[ You never forget your first, and that goes double for when your first actually wins. Wade Wilson had essentially started Midge's career: she'd gone from no one to one of the most in-demand stylists in the entire business, all because od hard work and a lot of luck. Midge's clients win, more often than not. She's expanded her pool, but almost all of them are victors. It's mutually beneficial, the two of them: Midge makes Wade presentable and then gets out of the way, Wade sweeps the general populace off of their feet with his charm and good looks, and Midge reaps the rewards behind the scenes. It's enough to make them friends in Midge's book.

She's dressed casually, though her idea of casual is still dressed to the nines. She has to be perfect at work--she has to appear perfect everywhere if she wants to continue to climb.

She steps into the small green room, one assistant carrying her beauty supplies, the other Wade's clothing. They begin to set everything up while Midge opens her arms for a hug, beaming. ]

Ready to steal some hearts?

kyna medina | former stylist/current quarry participant

[evocation]

getting "caught"

[Kyna hasn't actually done anything wrong, but that doesn't matter. After she gets the news, some bullshit about stealing Quarry plans, she goes numb. It's almost too absurd to take seriously, this idea that she's some kind of femme fatale, wrapping Sam around her little finger to lift information. Like she could possibly be that charismatic. Like Sam could possibly be that dumb. Like it makes any sense that she'd wait years to do it.

She's sent home from work, because now there's no reason for her to be there, and then she just has no idea what to do with herself. There's a part of her still clinging to the thought that even if the Quarry has flaws, it's still necessary. It has to be, right? She can't be this wrong about something.

There's nothing to do but wait now. She keeps herself from telling anyone, because it seems pointless. They'll all see the announcement anyway, or they'll be told personally like Sam was, and she's not sure she can keep herself calm and detached if she actually has to talk about it. Kyna can't handle staying holed up in her tiny apartment with her thoughts, so she wanders the city, ignoring the stares she gets. Everyone suddenly recognizes her, apparently, and it makes her skin crawl.]

the company

[It takes a couple of hours, and a few breakdowns, but Kyna finally gets it together. She knows plenty of people who have won. Ian and Nate won. Why can't she?

So, while she doesn't reach out to Ian and Sam—it's bad enough that they'll have to help design a bunch of shit to kill her—she does reach out to every other contact she's made during her career. Stylists, agents, designers, past winners. It's a wide swath.]

@unfajitable
hey
i need your help

closed - ian

[Originally, Kyna was planning on keeping Ian... maybe not out of this, but at least distanced from it. It didn't seem fair, dragging him into this whole situation when his entire job forces them to be on opposite sides. She already knows how much he'll hate working on designs for this Quarry. Why make it worse?

Of course he drags her to his apartment and sits her down. Of course he goes into shut down logic mode and tries to help her prepare. She's not sure why she thought she could protect him from this.

Kyna, for her part, has gone from numb to pissed. The fear comes and goes, but the anger doesn't. Sometimes it ebbs, fading to a low simmer, but it's always there. They're at his tiny kitchen table, diagrams and papers spread out before them, and Kyna has her hands curled into fists in her lap. She's focusing on what Ian is saying, of course, but she's also desperately trying to keep herself together. She couldn't keep her feelings hidden from Sam, so she knows there's no hope with Ian. He's been there for every bump and bruise and heartbreak since they were tiny. He can read her like a book.

But she can delay it, maybe.]

I don't think I can fight anyone head on. What if I get cornered or something?

[Sure, she knows how to handle herself courtesy of Roy, but one on one with some dude three times her size is still going to be too risky.]

wildcard

[Hit me with something else! Kyna's plotting comment/backstory info is here.]

@boo

[hiyakai]

[ is he surprised that kyna is reaching out to him?

no, no he is not. ]

yeah, what's up?

Castiel | Supernatural

[unwings]

the company;

[ castiel blends into the background in the Company offices more often than not, a quiet, unassuming figure with attention ever on his work. Polite, helpful, but mostly impersonal. His job is to run the physics behind the arena concepts the designers pitch, letting them know what’s possible and what isn’t. Maybe he didn’t completely internalize what he was in for before taking this job, but some time close to the next quarry, he’s hovering over one designer’s blueprints, expression distant, dissonant. ]

How cruel…

[ He mutters, like an afterthought, distracted, and catches himself a second after, blinking rapidly up at the designer next to him. ]

Which is, of course, the goal. [ cas clears his throat, glances back down at the plans once more, then back up, nodding stiffly. ] Impressive work.

[ it doesn’t come out sounding like a compliment, but it’s too impassive to seem like a criticism either. Like that, the moment’s gone, and cas’s attention is back on the tablet in his hands, typing out equations related to the plots in front of him. ]

pre-quarry training;

[ dead man walking. That’s how it feels as he watches the other quarry participants-to-be parsing through weapons, speaking with trainers in low voices, watching each other with assessing eyes. He’s a physicist, a mathematician. The perfect angle to swing an axe for quick, seamless decapitation wasn’t something they covered in the cotillion.

If it were cas here alone, that’d be one thing, but dean’s here - dean’s locked into this death sentence with him and its his fault. Cas can’t, won’t, be deadweight for him to be burdened with. Throwing knives in hand, Cas watches another participant across the room thudding them into a target, one after the other, observing the method before attempting to mimic it.

It doesn’t go great for him. After a couple lame tosses that bounce right off the wall (don’t even hit the target itself), he lets out a huff, dragging his feet as he goes to collect the knives on the ground. They’re traded out for a spear, and Cas turns back to the poor person who’d volunteered to train him. ]

I’m— I'm just not very good at this, I’m sorry.

[ there may be muscle memory left in him from before this world, something his limbs remember about the endless battles he’s been through, but he’s all together too nervous and tense for anything to feel natural. ]

interview;

[ tell us a little about yourself, castiel! the interviewer (a peppy woman with fuchsia colored hair) asks, far too chipper for the circumstances. Cas answers, short. ]

I’m a mathematician.

[ a lull of silence, the woman waiting for there to be more, but cas watches her with flat, unwavering indifference. This isn’t a game he wants to be playing, and he doesn’t plan to give her, or the millions watching, anything of himself. Which is fine, she’s found a way to twist even that into something tantalizing. So Dean Winchester likes them nerdy, huh? Cas blinks, squints. ]

You’d have to ask him.

[ sounds like a cop out, she answers, and cas gives the woman the lamest, laziest of shrugs. Miss him with your romance in brutal death fetish, lady, and miss his entire relationship with dean, thanks. As far as cas is concerned, that’s none of their business. Dean is something precious to him, something personal, something he wants to keep close to his chest, and this barbaric world can pry the love he holds for him from cas’s cold, dead fingers. Is it true that you were caught smuggling state secrets to the rebels? a heavy sigh, and he admits to it. ]

Yes.

[ Dean too? Is that how your romance began, as rebel spies? Partners in crime? Star-crossed lovers on the lamb? ]

What? No. [ what absurd fucking nonsense, this isn’t a soap opera, woman, it’s a death cult. Irritation starting to show on his features, Cas snaps at her, asserting with conviction. ] It was my plan, not his. Dean Winchester is innocent.

[ rather than the concern he would’ve rather seen on the woman, she only becomes more excited, nearly squealing, and goes off in a titillated string of romantic speculating on the heroic sacrifice of a love-struck soulmate. cas’s eyes flicker up to the ceiling. Are you sure, because Dean claimed it was his plot, and Cas sharply interrupts her, patience at its limit — ]

That's because he's an idiot. Are we done?

wildcard;

[[ hit me with whatever floats your boat, or message me for plotting - wuzzafuzzle ]]

the company

[remorseful]

The crueler we are, the better we are at persuading people to stay away from this outcome. [Never mind the fact that there are always Quarry participants. There are always people willing to screw up. And if they don't have a nice, solid, even number by the week before, the Shrikes are sure to cook up some surprises for people. Deals are broken. Blood is spilled. And so, they get more people in the ring yet again.]

Sometimes I feel like we're a little late in the game, too. [Casual. Thoughtful. Sam doesn't sound like he's chastising Castiel, and that's because it hasn't crossed his mind.] Like we have to be more creative. Sometimes creative means crueler than you'd think.

[The theory of Quarry making is what drives Sam. He knows the engineering processes, but he likes to go outside the box. It's why he has a Warbler following in the first place.]