larkers: (WARBLER)
MEADOWLARK MODS ([personal profile] larkers) wrote in [community profile] meadowlarklogs2020-11-21 12:11 pm

EVENT #011

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! 🦃

gossipkinesis: (love ∘ kiss ∘ josh ∘ grab)

[personal profile] gossipkinesis 2020-11-25 05:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ If it were any other evening, it would be easy enough to slip into her rooms together without being seen. But whenever a party or event was happening, it was too difficult to predict the comings and goings of other people, especially drunk party-goers.

The dress is very hike-able, to be sure.

Her hands slip beneath the fabric of his jacket, sliding slowly up his back, nails pressing against the fabric keeping them from his skin.]
That we do. [ She tugs him close again to steal a slow, lazy kiss.]
sparklequeen: (074 » Cause I have lived my life in debt)

[personal profile] sparklequeen 2020-11-25 05:05 am (UTC)(link)
Of course I needed it.

[ Glimmer protests in a cheeky, sing-song voice. Despite having had a few, as the saying goes, she's remarkably capable of appearing fine. That's what the last year has taught her. How to be fine. How to look happy and smile and not have a noticeable problem someone could use to hurt her. ]

How the fuck else am I supposed to get through these parties with all these fucking ghouls?
gossipkinesis: (listen ∘ angry ∘ passive)

Re: wildcard;

[personal profile] gossipkinesis 2020-11-25 05:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ Margo's last stylist had let her down in a big way, committing some kind of egregious fashion sin that Margo still wasn't ready to talk about even if the tabloids had.

And Midge was the hot new talent, making a name for herself. What a perfect combination, right? Margo was the perfect person to show off Midge's latest designs and outfit combinations, was she not? She was a fixture and eyes were almost always on her at every waking moment.

The fact that a fairly easy friendship bloomed between them was only an added bonus, right? Even if, as always, Margo is keenly aware that most of the people below her station were probably using her to climb higher.

She arrives whenever she means to arrive which is probably a few minutes late (always keep them waiting), gliding towards the other woman and greeting her with a kiss on both cheeks.]


Thank you-- [ she gestures for Midge to sit back down and moves to sit herself.]

Sorry I'm late. [ she's not ]
notathreat: (3)

For Cassandra: cw: bullying mentions

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-11-25 05:15 am (UTC)(link)
[Five years in the past, Cassandra receives a message from dispatch. A student has been stabbed at a local high school. The victim is receiving medical attention, but the perpetrator has been isolated and is awaiting Shrike justice.

It's a public school, nicer than some and shittier than others, in the heart of the Aerie. The principal waves Cassandra in, looking unnerved, and tells her that there were several witnesses to the assault and all are preparing statements.

They're following protocol, he says. Just following protocol.

The girl in the empty classroom is small, and looks more like she's twelve than fourteen. There's a bruise across her cheekbone, more edging under her t-shirt. There's a light spray of blood over her sleeve.

Her jaw is set and her bright green eyes fix on Cassandra the moment she enters the room.]


You're a Shrike.

[There's no question in her tone. She's pale, but doesn't scream, doesn't cry.]
notathreat: (5)

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-11-25 05:21 am (UTC)(link)
Fuck's sake.

[Ellie hisses it through her teeth, even as a laugh rises up on the edge of her voice, forcing its way out at the edge of her words. Drunk as hell or not, this is the reason they became friends in the first place. Glimmer can put on a show and act as well as any of them. She can play the game better than most.

But away from it all? She doesn't mince words about how she feels about this place.]


Stop making me laugh when I'm pissed at you.
nonstopnarcissist: IM3 (Inside a living hell)

[personal profile] nonstopnarcissist 2020-11-25 05:21 am (UTC)(link)
It's concrete. It's security- something he doesn't need, he's set as long as he keeps playing his cards right with the deck he's carefully crafted to stack in his favor. For her?

It's a lifeline. They make this announcement, they take an artfully framed photo of their hands with the tattoo and the engagement ring? Public opinion will save them. Oh, the designer and the Champion, oh the Rook reaching down to bring up someone lovely and brilliant. He's got a habit of doing that already, that's not new, he's been hauling up Cotillion graduates for years, but making it personal. Painting it in a romantic light- they've been seen together off and on for the past while. this next step?

Kicks everything into another gear entirely. He knows what she tells him and knows, also, there's so much she doesn't. But he has no right to her ghosts and her demons any more than he has a right to lay his at her feet and demand loyalty. So they don't talk about who she was before the PR machine painted her scarlet and alabaster and shoved her into the light. They don't talk about the nights when he can't sleep for dreaming of the deaths he's caused, the moments when he goes over their 'crimes', questioning quietly the validity of a few.

But dead is dead, done is done, and the only way is through.

The only way up is to keep moving forward.

And it's easier to climb when you've got someone else on the line with you to double-check hand and footholds. Having something to offer makes it straightforward. Giving his team, his tools, his expertise in the game so, even if something goes awry and they're both in a place to walk away clean, she can continue? That's-

Messy. Potentially. there's too many shards he's handed over to be entirely comfortable but he can't be on all the time. He tried at the beginning, it only made him feel more like Howard rather than less and- she deserves better.

Especially when she's so- aware. Of him. the situation. The stakes. Something so small as a ring and- the devil's in the details. And with Natasha? She never forgets a detail. He accepts the ring with a half-smile, pausing long enough to cradle her hand between his, dropping a chaste kiss to the back of it. "You think of everything."

Because she has to. Because if she forgets the tiniest variable for even a moment, it's all over.

He lounges in her absence, slinging his legs along the mattress, arm tucked behind his head, rolling the ring around in his fingertips. Something he'd set himself, gold titanium working like liquid to make just the right band, just the right size. Easier to keep things under wraps if he did the work b hand rather than buy a ring outright. Thumbing the edge still warm from her skin, he watches her walk, watches her return, waits until he's certain the hovering attendant is well and gone with bells in hand before-

"We split the difference between one of my pet projects and part of your own narrative coming up out of the Quarry. There was a labyrinthine portion that month, wasn't there?" He offers up the ring like a gem of wisdom, like a sincere promise that's worth far more than being his. "A compass rose. Because we're navigating this world together. There are a few placements possible but something overt and obvious so we're often reminded of one another tested well. How comfortable are you with getting a tattoo on your left hand?"
sparklequeen: (Did I misplace or forsake my love)

[personal profile] sparklequeen 2020-11-25 05:38 am (UTC)(link)
I'm the one that's pissed.

[ Glimmer stifles a giggle. Look, she's a little (a lot) drunk and the wordplay (a word her mother used) is too good to pass up. She hugs herself a little closer to Ellie, swaying just a little as they move towards the dance floor. To anyone watching, of course, it's just a normal sort evening out--a young woman having a good time. ]

Why are you mad? It's just a couple drinks. And I have to have a lot of them because it's all just the sweet bubbly stuff at these things.
laserbeams: (pic#14429565)

[personal profile] laserbeams 2020-11-25 05:41 am (UTC)(link)
[ He smiles when Amos returns, running his tongue over his teeth. He doesn't do this often; he doesn't even consider himself a sadist although he undoubtedly is one. Once in a while he just needs to blow off some steam on someone who would've gotten tossed in the quarry sooner or later anyway, and a lanky kid like this wouldn't have lasted an hour there. ]

Very good. [ A quick nod of approval in Amos's direction, and then he's searching through the unconscious man's pockets until he pulls out a phone.

It's cracked, and probably not due to any sort of struggle with Amos. Some people just walked around with broken screens, for economic reasons John never had to ponder himself. Sure enough, it still works, and he grabs the guy by the hair and holds his face up to the phone to bypass the facial recognition.

That makes him start to stir and gain awareness, which John ignores as he swipes through the contents of the phone. ]
Hm. [ He frowns, face twitching every now and then as he scrolls. An eye roll here, a flick of his tongue there, until he's seen what he needs to see and tosses the phone on the floor. ] He doesn't follow me. [ And he looks back up to Amos. ] Do you think I should go easy on him?

[ Regardless of what the answer is, he's not going to go easy. He'd have spared a fan. Roughing them up a little and then talking them into loving him again was a fun test of his abilities. No follow? No mercy. ]
laserbeams: (pic#14429599)

[personal profile] laserbeams 2020-11-25 05:41 am (UTC)(link)
That's exactly what I was hoping for. I knew I could trust you.

Can I come over and get them back?
notathreat: (65)

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-11-25 05:53 am (UTC)(link)
And you've got jokes.

[Ellie snorts, checking outside. The balconies look like they have a few stragglers, they'll have to wait to be able to take true refuge out there, get some air. Instead they head to the dance floor, where a slower number is going.

Ellie takes the lead, a hand in the small of Glimmer's back. Her dancing skills are great; Gene's the one who taught her, and Glimmer refined it. So she'd have someone to dance with at these fucking things.

She'd promised Glimmer a dance at every single one, and has never broken it.]


Look... I told you to go easier on this stuff. Remember?
sparklequeen: (014 » Why do I keep dreaming of you?)

[personal profile] sparklequeen 2020-11-25 06:02 am (UTC)(link)
[ As the slow number picks up, Glimmer leans in and lets Ellie take the lead. Her fingers interlace with the other's and squeeze tight. It's small, a subtle gesture unlikely to be noticed by others but perhaps the only one that Glimmer has made so far that shows she might not be as okay as she claims. ]

I know. I know.

[ Glimmer's voice comes as a low whisper, barely audible beneath the music and the noise of the party around them. ]

I'm sorry. I try to remember to pace myself. Then each time there's some new group of them who want something and I just need something to do with myself so I don't lose my mind.

[ She sways closer, her free arm tightening against Ellie's waist. ]

I just want it to get late enough that we can get out of here already.
livrer: (154 (au))

this about to get nsfw;

[personal profile] livrer 2020-11-25 06:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ He leans into her kiss, now feeling a little constricted in his jacket and wanting to feel more of her skin beneath his hands. Most days the party garments are fine, a symbol of status and ranking within the Volary, but right now they are too tight, the stitches like bars of a cage.

He guides her backwards, still kissing her, until they find a particularly convenient pillar to lean against, shrouded in enough shadow to keep them both hidden from view of casual passersby. His mouth doesn't leave hers until his hands find places along her sides to roam, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck, to find the part in the folds of the thin flowing fabric of her skirt and run a hand up the length of her thigh. ]
stabsbooks: (pic#9976377)

[personal profile] stabsbooks 2020-11-25 07:01 am (UTC)(link)
[ The girl is younger than Cassandra had expected, looking almost too young to be a student at the high school. She pauses, taking her in for a moment before her eyes flick down to her notes. No, this is correct. She must be small for her age, that's all.

That settled, she moves closer without hesitation, waiting until she's standing - looming - directly in front of the desk where Ellie sits, before deigning to respond to her statement. ]


And you stand accused of violence against a classmate. [ She lets her eyes travel over the bruises and the blood; Ellie's appearance speaks for itself, but she's always been vigilant about following the process, even in the face of undeniable evidence. ] Do you deny it?
malta: annoyed but make it fashion (☾ forty two.)

[personal profile] malta 2020-11-25 07:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ joe's own hands are buried in his pockets when he approaches, dark curls mussed on one side like he'd only recently woken up and gone for a wander when his body decided it was too restless to fall back into sleep immediately. (this is, of course, exactly what happened, with some vandalism thrown in.

variety, you know, the spice of life.)

most people ignore the posters. try to at least, averting their eyes as much as possible without barreling into someone else on the narrow streets. joe made sure to put posters on both sides for that reason in particular. it shouldn't be an idea easy to escape.

she isn't trying to escape it, staring it down. ]


Not a fan of birds? Or maybe not of cages.
baltimores: (07; free right now)

[personal profile] baltimores 2020-11-25 07:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ Amos raises his eyebrows, taking a longer drink this time, never breaking eye contact. He puts his glass down on the bar, rests his elbow beside it. A comfortable position. He's settled in. ]

Don't think I will.

[ His voice is low but almost amiable. Like, hey, he's just having a quiet, pleasant conversation. The threat underneath it all, the way he won't take his eyes off of Sam, is barely even there. ]

Not exactly the one trying to start shit here.
baltimores: (06; cool)

[personal profile] baltimores 2020-11-25 07:24 am (UTC)(link)
[ Amos blinks down at the offered drink, back up at Larry, before he takes it. His lips twitch upwards, if only for a second, at his words - it's about as much amusement as he'll show on a first impression. ]

Not exactly my usual scene.

[ Like that wasn't obvious enough. His voice is soft, though; he's not opposed to Larry coming up to him at all.

The drink was a good first move. He knocks a bit of it back, and, shit. Probably should've started doing this earlier.

He looks Larry up and down. ]
You look comfortable here, though. [ It's not a judgement. Just an observation. ]
freightcars: (Bᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴅᴀʏ ᴡᴀsɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴍᴏɴᴀᴅᴇ)

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-11-25 07:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ His eyes travel along Tony's profile, studying the smaller, subtler pieces of his expression to read what he's actually being told. Tony's spotted the way his posture's off, he surmises. Knows he's injured. Knows just as well as he does he'll wind up back in that pit.

Knows there's gonna be something in future drops that might keep him alive.

It ain't the first time he's done this.

He's tired, he's gotten gradually more blunt with age, and as they walk he levels Tony with an unfaltering, earnest look — reserved, still, because he always is. But. A level of earnest all the same. ]


I'm pretty sure you're the only thing keeping me alive in those damn things anymore.

[ Just so you know. With tips like these.

So, thank you. ]
baltimores: (06; cool)

[personal profile] baltimores 2020-11-25 07:36 am (UTC)(link)
[ He looks down at Kyna, cocking his head at her sudden appearance. ]

No.

[ He says it conversationally enough, even as they're out in the open. It's different, but he doesn't exactly see the problem with her coming up to him like this. She's probably got a good reason.

... He might be able to suspect what that reason is. He had dwelled on it a little more than normal. Upon reflection, he might have even felt bad breaking the news to her. He's known Kyna for a while now, before a lot of shit in his life went down; she's one of the few people he'll more than tolerate. She's different from most of the people he interacts with in his day-to-day, but in all the best ways. Way more interesting, at least. It's good, having her around. ]


What's up?
stabsbooks: (pic#9976372)

2

[personal profile] stabsbooks 2020-11-25 07:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ Parliament, and especially the Cardinals, are immune to the rules that govern the rest of society. Cassandra knows this. She understands it. Of course there must be structure, there must be authority. There would be no Shrikes without their patrons in Parliament; there would be no Quarry without the Cardinals to rule and to manage. To make the decisions that people like Cassandra, like most of the population, simply aren't equipped to think about.

But it still rankles, when she sees this Cardinal in particular acting the way he's acting right now. Unlike some Shrikes, Cassandra is truly committed to justice and the truth. She neither blindly follows her patron's will nor allows her own grudges and biases to affect her work. If any member of the Congregation were harassing others this way, she would already be marching them off for interrogation and subsquent arrest. It is wrong that she can't do the same here.

But there's nothing she can do to change that. So she does what she can. ]


If you're looking for entertainment, you would be better served watching the events in the arena.

[ Her voice isn't aggressive, but it is firm, and it carries. This isn't the first time they've had this sort of interaction. ]


(ooc let me know if any of this isn't okay!)
nonstopnarcissist: AOU (And why is all you ever sing)

[personal profile] nonstopnarcissist 2020-11-25 07:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ Plausible deniability is easy when everyone's on board the same train of thought. Dance around the truth, tap, and pirouette around what you're actually saying but never lay it outright, move on to the next stop.

Of course, Bucky decides in the middle of a relatively public hallway to pull the break and send the whole damn thing off the rails.

He doesn't stop, he can't stop moving forward (it's metaphorical, it's literal, the future is right there as long as he keeps walking toward it) but there's a stutter in the stride, a moment's blatant hesitance as he swings his gaze around to meet Bucky's eyes, lips pressed thin because-

Honesty is rare and precious and dangerous.

Trust Buck to be too tired and too worn down to give a single solitary fuck about it.

It's a click and a grimace, nails drumming against his own chest as he gestures Bucky into his office- clean, spartan now that most of the notes are piled up in relatively orderly files, the high pitched burr of noise to deter audio surveillance only as good as long as Steven Strange doesn't start poking around minds. Still.

Honesty for honesty. ]


It's inefficient. Ineffective. Insufficient. I'd do more but- [ Rules, regulations, a delicate balancing act that has never been on his neck alone- everyone that worked for him, everyone he's slowly pulling in through tech and promises to lift up when he makes that final step-

And now Natasha who needs him to not fuck up so badly he really can't risk...anything. ]
My hands are tied. And not even in the fun sexy way. If you weren't someone else's- [ Pet? Chew toy? Employee? ] Favorite, it'd be less complicated.
freightcars: (I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛᴀɢ ʙɪᴛᴄʜ I ʙᴇᴇɴ ɪᴛ)

soak up the party

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-11-25 08:01 am (UTC)(link)
[ He doesn't like coming to these things. If he had it his way, he'd stay at his apartment between his quarries and he'd... maybe drink himself to death or something, but whatever the case, he'd stay anti-social forever. Unfortunately that doesn't quite suite the whole marketing strategy; at the end of the day it's less about him winning quarries and it's more about selling him out. He's been told it's about his brand. People pay to have him around.

So here he is, dressed in a way Homelander should approve of, wearing eyeliner he doesn't want to wear, standing visibly in a room around other humans. All of that's good so far.

What's probably not really cutting it is the fact that he's standing off in the corner, looking a bit dour, engaging with nobody and putting down a drink while he does his best to blend into the wallpaper. Not really great for the brand. ]
baltimores: (07; free right now)

[personal profile] baltimores 2020-11-25 08:07 am (UTC)(link)
Depends. [ Amos crosses his arms, looking down at the kid who's just lifting his head up properly, opening his eyes. He makes direct eye contact with him before looking back up at John. ] How badly do you need to get it out of your system?

[ That the sap doesn't follow John is an unexpected bonus. It's almost funny. And he hasn't seen a lot of blood lately, and between this and John's previously over-emotional state, things look like they could get messy.

If he lets the uncomfortable moments pass, there's always a chance of a reward. It's in the air, now. Almost like ozone. Amos bares his teeth, giving John a full-on grin. ]
I say do what you need to do.
freightcars: (I ᴘᴜʟʟ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ʟᴇᴍᴏɴ)

[personal profile] freightcars 2020-11-25 08:22 am (UTC)(link)
[ He gives out honesty, but he doesn't expect much back. He knows the game now, even if he doesn't really play it. He participates as much as Homelander requires him to, because he needs to keep food on his table. Because he needs to keep his lights on. Because he doesn't have any alternative at this point, even if he found another job. You don't just stop being what he is — a returning combatant, a kind of celebrity athlete that represents the Valory's order and rule. Walking away for him would pretty much be a death sentence at this point. He belongs to them, they've got the power to order him into whatever they want.

He knows other people aren't as hopeless and burnt out as he is. He knows other people have bits and pieces of happiness they can chase and earn in this life, and they can only do it by playing the game right. Natasha, as he's recently discovered, has kept herself alive and happy and healthy by working her way up the ladder. Not just learning the game but perfecting it, maybe even creating a few rules herself. After her quarry, he'll never blame her for cutting a throat to stay safe. Tony, he knows, can find happiness in this — building, creating, helping in subtle ways. He doesn't expect either of them to flex to his nihilistic level.

Surprises him to even get this much, honestly, and it earns Tony a wry smile. He finds weird shit funny these days. ]


I'm gonna pretend that's jealousy. I do make a good lawn ornament. Kind of like a scarecrow.

[ It's a pun. ]
stabsbooks: (pic#9976404)

clearing his head

[personal profile] stabsbooks 2020-11-25 08:29 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's not often that anyone runs into Cassandra on the street. Most people even in the inner rings are so hyperaware of any Shrikes in the vicinity that she's given a wide berth. This man, though, is clearly distracted at the moment.

She's swooped down instinctively and picked up the book almost before he has a chance to react, studying its cover critically. Statistics. Nothing immediately suspect; nothing she can immediately understand the signifcance of, either. She frowns at it. ]


I'm fine.

[ Still holding the book, she looks up to assess the man who'd run into her, eyebrow lifting in recognition. As someone who's sent many to their deaths in the Quarry, Cassandra has always felt she has an obligation to maintain at least a passing familiarity with those who manage and design it. She recognizes Sam; not quite a celebrity, but with his fair share of followers.

And lately, if she recalls correctly, at the outskirts of a bit of a scandal. ]


Sam Winchester. [ It's not a question. She's still holding his book. ] You work for the Company.
nonstopnarcissist: AOU (Lost myself in things I said)

[personal profile] nonstopnarcissist 2020-11-25 08:30 am (UTC)(link)
I'd have you in a heartbeat if I could, but alas, I am no longer on the market. Or...won't be, soon.

[ Tony gestures for Bucky to sit and drags the latest variation of the arm out from where he's got it stored in a safe that's less locked and more solid block of steel that won't open until he reaches in like it's water to pull out what he has stored inside. In this instance? It's the plain white box holding the latest version.

No gurney, no fun tools, not when all the connectors and plating and everything of Bucky's arms are metal and therefore subject to Tony's will.

He used to have emotions about the level of control that could give him, before he decided to trust Bucky. Before Bucky decided, however unwisely, to trust him.

They're lucky it's paid off so far. ]


We finally picked a moment to make an announcement. I'd feel more excited, I guess, if it were...she's great. But we both know what this is. You don't get to be who we are and have things honestly. [ He works as he talks, passing his hands over the chrome limb cradled in its case, silvered sheen morphing to matte black in a slow pass. ] There are moments when I think I could actually, you know, risk that before I remember how terrible of an idea that is.