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! 🦃

notathreat: (40)

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-12-13 09:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[Ellie puts the letter down on her blanketed lap, blinks back the sick stinging of shock and tears. Gene will take care of you, it says. Don't give him too much of a hard time. Try not to be as stubborn as me.

For too long she hangs in the silence between them, the pounding in her head matching the rising sick feeling in her chest. She had a family. All this time, she had someone she was supposed to be with.]


What happened?

[Somehow, she manages to get her voice not to break, but it still comes out smaller than she'd like, all twisted up. And when she looks up at him their eyes meet, and she sees it. His face is so young, and he looks-

So sorry.]
championofsnark: (pic#14332881)

[personal profile] championofsnark 2020-12-14 12:34 am (UTC)(link)
Hawke has almost the exact same thought when she looks around the room, which is why they always seem to be on the same page. There are some people here she would never lay a hand on, but sometimes she does get bored and want to play with someone. Make them dance by using their blood as puppetry, although she got in trouble the last time for doing it to a Magpie without asking permission from their Cardinal. She didn't really care, but it was enough trouble she hasn't done it again since. Chaos in this room would be so fun though.

"It would be. Most of them have never had more than a stubbed toe." To be fair, Hawke hasn't done much more accidentally, but she does have a taste for pain, enough that she can keep it together better than most in a crisis. She's been attacked before, usually by fools that don't realize she's often the scariest person in a room. Blood is everything.

"It wouldn't be fun probably, after the first five or so, too easy. It's too bad we can't get more Shrikes into the Quarry for you to kill. They'll be a little more challenging." Hawke's favorite Shrike Cassandra could probably give him a very good run for his money. She doesn't mind that he's talking about murdering everyone in the room. It's not treason when it's asked for. "You might want to have your wits about you this time, turns out little brain birdies are working on tricks in the Quarry to make it more interesting than you chopping everyone down."
championofsnark: (Default)

[personal profile] championofsnark 2020-12-14 12:48 am (UTC)(link)
You'd die of boredom. Just like I would without you.

[ She raises her glass back at him. That's a true enough statement for all the Cardinals and well-born Rooks who grew up together. There's a natural camaraderie about how hard it is to be raised powerful and rich and perfect. They've been a crew since childhood.

Thor is the one her parents are desperate for her to marry and despite the fact they get along great and have been lovers off and on for quite some time, neither of them likes the idea. What a way to spoil a good friendship, really, with such overbearing nonsense. But it does get them good reasons to run away from things; neither his father or her parents mind if they disappear together. ]


I don't know why he's so hard on you, you could be so embarrassing if you wanted to be, but you never cause any real trouble.

[ Well real trouble in terms of anything other than partying too much and being ridiculous, but they're all like that. Marian's the trouble maker, considering she chops all her hair off and sometimes blood marionettes low ranking people who piss her off. Thor is so good comparatively! ]
ishotyouuu: (i swear to drunk i'm not god)

[personal profile] ishotyouuu 2020-12-14 12:57 am (UTC)(link)
Sam was one of those common beasts who seemed the most at home in seedy bars, almost as if that was his natural environment. Lounging against the sofa with a drink in his hand, he manages to look like one of those ads that were televised daily, the sorts of ads that promised dark and sensual encounters in smoky rooms and quiet respect from the other patrons.

Wade's dressed a little more subtly than Sam is tonight-- sporting a jacquard blazer of red, black and gold. He slides into the seat across the way from Sam, blinking slightly as the man's question registers. His mouth stretches in a sardonic grin and he chuckles, raising his own glass in a toast.

"You shouldn't believe everything you read, pal. Sometimes I want somethin' hard and dark inside me, y'know? Tonight just feels like a whiskey sour night. Don't ask me why."

He nods towards Sam's glass. "What's your poison?"
Edited 2020-12-14 01:01 (UTC)
withmeinparadise: (02.)

[personal profile] withmeinparadise 2020-12-14 01:04 am (UTC)(link)
I'll pass.

[ Dryly, wryly, a little annoyed beyond the current situation. Sam's nothing if not a dick. And watching this asshole is something else, the way he goes from their conversation to the bartender and back again. Like flipping the lights in a room. ]

Got another option for you. [ He finishes off his liquor ] You wanna sit here, you act like a person. Starting with this:

[ And, absolute mad lad tipsy logic and a longstanding belief in his own immortality playing heavily into his choices right about now, Sam snatches at the stupid goddamn Shrike mask. ]
kinkprofessor: credit: <user name="thebutt"> (Default)

[personal profile] kinkprofessor 2020-12-14 01:31 am (UTC)(link)
Of course. Always.

[ The most modest, as she can see. He smiles in earnest though, obviously indicating that he doesn't mind the teasing. It's what keeps things interesting. And speaking of keeping things interesting- ]

Complacent? I don't know about that, exactly. Comfortable, maybe. But I suppose there is a fine line between the difference. [ He swirls whatever drink is in his glass in contemplation. ]

I suppose it has been a while since I've been excited by much.
kinkprofessor: credit: <user name="thebutt"> (pic#12272510)

[personal profile] kinkprofessor 2020-12-14 01:31 am (UTC)(link)
[ He does love a bit of gossip, actually. It's a wonder that he doesn't slum it more often in order to get information, but... There's a plethora of it up high, too, and usually much more scandalous and enticing. ]

I'm not sure 'excitement' is the apt word. Pity? That feels appropriate.
requiemshark: (058)

[personal profile] requiemshark 2020-12-14 01:32 am (UTC)(link)
People say a lot of things at parties.

[ Doesn't make them true. It's all a game anyway. Trick is understanding the rules. Play long enough and well enough and occasionally you get moments of something real. Ephemera knows what he is. Curiosities don't last. One of these days what he's got won't be his anymore. And then?

Well, that'll just be that. Doesn't look like his luck's run out today, though. He'll survive until he can't anymore.

Ephemera grabs his drink and his tablet and settles in a chair of his own. ]


But, you're here. Can't be sorry for that, now can I?
preseance: (pic#14279492)

[personal profile] preseance 2020-12-14 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
there's nothing he can even say to that that wouldn't sound like an excuse. 'i tried' doesn't matter when the end result was what it was.

I — he starts. stops. takes a breath, and lets it out. he needs to lay it out as plainly as possible. she can decide what it means, what matters. I was too young to be your legal guardian.

he knows she got bounced around. he'd managed to find two group homes that had her early on. reggie's help. he had a knack for that kind of thing, until it killed him. but he was still always ten steps behind the system, blocked at every corner by bureaucracy and ignorance. outright malice, a time or two.

funny, how they can pack a kid off to die in a fucking arena, but won't let one raise a child. his fingers twitch, this time in a restrained anger he's had to keep a lid on since reggie died, and he smooths down a crease in his trousers.


I looked for you. I'm sorry it wasn't enough.
notathreat: (61)

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-12-14 02:19 am (UTC)(link)
[It does sound like an excuse, and Ellie wants so badly to be angry. Angry at everything. At the group home, at the school, at the kid who was the last fucking straw, at the shrike who put her in the Quarry. At all the people who were betting on her death, and all the people who made a spectacle of everything that hurt her.

She wants to be angry at the girl who killed Joel, and even at the Cardinals, but really... it's everything.

It's this whole fucking place, and everything in it. It's feeling powerless and fragmented and impotent. It's the feeling that she can't draw even one more breath and go on living like she had, in fear.

She'd needed something to change, and now everything has. Ellie looks at the way Gene's fingers twitch, the way his face crumples in on itself, and something inside of her threatens to snap clean in two.

He looked for her.]


So... what happens now?
preseance: (pic#14279491)

[personal profile] preseance 2020-12-14 02:31 am (UTC)(link)
I guess that's up to you.

he could tell her he has a place for her. it's not much, but he's got a small apartment with two small rooms. a bedroom door that's always closed, and locked away behind it are thirteen years' worth of gifts piled on a tiny nightstand. most of them are hand-made. little carvings. he didn't know what babies would like, much less little girls, but he'd tried.

reggie asked him once why he didn't turn it into an office. it's how the whole story came out, but that was years back now.

his pa used to tell him you should always keep a place for the ones you love.


But whatever else happens, I'd like to be in your life. If you'll have me.
monomachy: insomniatic @ dw (arabella)

[personal profile] monomachy 2020-12-14 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
[She knows he's seen her slip-up, but there's nothing to be done about it now. Perhaps she'll be able to come up with some cover later, even if it might end up being flimsy. It might hurt just as much as help though, so she'll have to think on it first. What she does know right now is that she's going to have to keep a bit of a closer eye on Tony now. At least it will be easy if she's designing this event for him.

Diana hums quietly to herself, setting down her tea so she can grab a pen and start jotting down ideas already. Nature is one of her specialties; all of the arenas she's had a hand in have some kind of wild, natural element to spice things up. But for this, she'll want to tame that nature a bit, she thinks.]


Flowing lines, modern aesthetics... nothing too sculpted, but we may not want to evoke a jungle, hm?
Edited 2020-12-14 02:43 (UTC)
notathreat: (38)

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-12-14 02:45 am (UTC)(link)
[One tear, then two, wells up. She blinks them quickly away. Takes a deep breath, lets it out, keeps herself steady.

Had he come at this any other way, she'd have been suspicious as hell of his motives, but him making it her choice just fucking cuts her off at the knees. She feels like she can't catch her breath, but she makes herself. The only indication of how fucked up she is is how her hands twist in the blankets, gripping until her knuckles are white.]


... Okay.
preseance: (pic#11578360)

[personal profile] preseance 2020-12-14 03:09 am (UTC)(link)
he doesn't want to touch her without her permission, not after what she's gone through. but he does hold his hand out, palm-up. offering the contact..
notathreat: (29)

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-12-14 03:18 am (UTC)(link)
[Ellie's hands still on the blankets, watching Gene's -- her brother's, her family's -- outstretched hand warily. Aside from Joel, she can't remember the last time someone's reached for her like this. Even then, it was survival more than comfort.

And the second she thinks that, comfort, she realizes that Gene's not just doing this for her. This is something he needs, too.

She reaches out and lays her palm over his, loosely curling her fingers. Her hands are much smaller than his, thin and bruised, knuckles still raw. But after a moment, the trembling stills, and she holds onto him.]
notathreat: (6)

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-12-14 04:35 am (UTC)(link)
Damn it, Wade.

Ellie does spit-take, and it's a light mist that she gets right onto the front of his very nice tie. It's fine, this is fine. Though she does reach out to give him a quick, hard punch right in the joint of his shoulder. Of course it's like punching a side of beef; she doesn't even rock him.

Ellie wipes her face with a proper laugh, just barely managing not to smudge the hint of lipstick Nathan talked her into putting on for special occasions, and shakes her head.

"Gross. Talk about a shitty assembly line-"

Yeah. They're hopeless. But god, this party is so much easier to deal with, now.
notathreat: (51)

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-12-14 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
[They both know what Ellie means; but she takes it to heart as he answers. Lance is a lot of things, but he's not a liar by nature.]

Of course not. You and I both know I never do anything easy.

[Ellie pauses, looking him up and down one last time. And in this world, where she's been raised by Gene, and coached by Nathan, has never kept a life-wrecking secret or balanced a world on her shoulders or known true betrayal, Ellie closes the gap between them and gives Lance a small, firm squeeze of a hug.]

... see you on the other side.
realists: (ml » meh)

[personal profile] realists 2020-12-14 05:57 am (UTC)(link)
Not really. My father was... preoccupied. Very little time for a child.

[ she gestures expansively with her empty glass. it's annoying that she still loves her father despite his absent parenting, but she's determined to not sink into something as ridiculous as grief.

gross. ]


It's not so bad. I've gotten loads of pity flowers.
soliterraneous: (listening; requires clarification)

no way to live;

[personal profile] soliterraneous 2020-12-14 07:29 am (UTC)(link)
Nothing, [ comes Aeryn's response, automatic and quick too. She'd been coming out of the complex where Nile lives when she thought she'd spotted Jyn giving bells away, but got caught watching for too long.

She's not so foolish as to pretend to look away but she can pretend she didn't see anything. ]


I wasn't sure if that was you, is all.
baltimores: (06; cool)

[personal profile] baltimores 2020-12-14 09:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ Amos feels the soft huff of Larry's breath against the exposed skin of his neck. They can't see each other's faces right now; he smiles at the faint tickle of air, maybe an actual, genuine smile, and allows the expression to stay on his face as he pulls back, separates, loses that contact. ]

Let's.

[ He's never been in a Rook's quarters before. Well-- he's only ever been in one particular Cardinal's rooms, but for expressly different purposes. Larry has less, which is to be expected. He also has more than Amos does, which is also to be expected. Luxury is nothing for him, but for a night? Yeah. Sure. He'd be an idiot not to appreciate that.

He takes his eyes off Larry's face, his mouth, down, back up, the bottle still in his hand, and looks back up at Larry, a question in his eyes. ]
So what's first? [ he asks, hand gesturing at the bottle, then off to the side a little, Larry's centre of mass, a little lower. ]
baltimores: (04; in town)

[personal profile] baltimores 2020-12-14 10:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ Amos would never have considered.

He people watches, too, but not for things like that. His eyes are trained for signs of aggression, people acting suspicious, nervous. Anything negative he can pick up on. The very concept of an affair, of people liking each other, would mean nothing to him.

He looks at Ephemera's tablet, that initial curiosity back along with its reappearance. He still doesn't know shit about art, has no appreciation for the talent that goes into creating, but it's something different and he enjoys that novelty. Something about seeing the beginning stages, before it comes together, gets polished. He looks up, sees the real-life reference, finds himself surprised by how well they match up. ]


That's amazing, [ because it's a talent he's never had, never been taught, never considered, and he's taken by surprise enough he does let that moment of ignorance out into the open.

Back to normal, almost. ]
More productive than anything I've ever done, stuck at these things.
baltimores: (06; cool)

NO WORRIES, may the hellishness cease!!!!

[personal profile] baltimores 2020-12-14 10:31 am (UTC)(link)
[ The corners of Amos' mouth quirk upwards slightly at the sarcasm received in turn. Yeah, he's made the right call in coming over. It's odd for someone to actually grow on him over time, but he figures with all the time he has ended up spending with Nate over the years - mostly in a professional capacity, which never means anything good for the other party, but still - it makes sense that they are what they are now.

He huffs a short breath at the question, though, the exasperation light but evident enough. ]


Strange. John, [ he quickly clarifies, because there are multiple Stranges, because saying his first name still feels weird to him, even after all the years. ] I'm his guy. So. You know. Appearances. [ An obscene gesture, directed at the concept of the whole thing rather than any Cardinal; he's not an idiot. ]

I swear time slows the longer you're here. At some point it's just gonna stop entirely. [ An excuse to pace with his own drink, at least. ]
baltimores: (15; thank you)

cw violence, some blood, love you sam

[personal profile] baltimores 2020-12-14 11:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ A third, then.

Amos takes a second to digest what just happened.

Technically - technically - it could be considered a crime. Theft of property. Theft of a Shrike's property, no less, as if scale even matters in that arena.

But it's not a crime, because it was against him. And in theory, that would be bending the rules, but - nothing done to him has ever been a crime. Not growing up; otherwise somebody would have done something about his father, and that never happened. And not now, when he has the power to take matters into his own hands, settle things just as they start, end them the way he wants to.

He takes a second.

And then in one motion, Amos gets up, grabs the wrist attached to the hand holding his mask, squeezes as tight as he can as he yanks it forward, keeps it in his range. Takes another second to consider his options with his other hand, makes a fist, punches Sam square in the face.

A second time. A third, for good measure. Hears the crack of cartilage; sees, feels the way fresh blood decorates his fist. Figures he can just as easily take his mask back now, does, sets it back in its original position, staring out in Sam's direction specifically, letting his blood get on it some, never once averting his own gaze.

Amos sighs, laughs, smiles; the first genuine expressions he's had since he stepped in here. He feels lighter, the air in his lungs fresher, the entire world brighter. He keeps his attention squarely on Sam. ]


C'mon. Make my day. [ His voice is soft, no posturing, just honest and open and happy. ]
scythias: <b>DNT</b> (a015)

[personal profile] scythias 2020-12-14 02:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Pitiful excitement, then.

( it doesn't quite work but it's good enough. she's not going to argue semantics too much when she has many other more important things to focus on. )

But, the trick is to not show that pity too outwardly as that's going to lead to people suspecting you and then they'll never share anything. And that's what I want: information.

( and these people have it. )
withmeinparadise: (20.)

😘

[personal profile] withmeinparadise 2020-12-14 02:29 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Sam gets further than he expects, to be entirely honest. Gripping a Shrike mask--first time he ever has, actually--watching Burton watching him, he's about to make an attempt at shoving it into the pocket of his gloriously bright blue sharkskin suit.

He's dazed by the time his nose is finished cracking, but this isn't exactly his first rodeo. Two runs through the Quarry (decades ago, but still), more than one run-in with the seedier ends of the world, and some kind of inborn knowledge he can't explain. The same thing that keeps him doing endless situps in the mornings and evenings, to wake up and wind down, that's the thing that tells him this asshole's built like a brick shithouse, you can't just punch him out.

Sam Drake's pretty goddamn strong for a guy who spends his time yelling about pay or play clauses and lining up commercial modeling gigs. But compared to Amos Burton, he's a little too lean, taller than him and stretched-out as a result. So there's no slamming his fist in the guy's face as retribution.

Reaching out blindly, his hand closes around Burton's liter glass and brings it up in an arc. Beer flinging out, Sam slams the bottom edge of it against Burton's temple as hard as he can. ]