Event Log: Assassin

[hadrielmods]

Who: Everyone!
What: The Assassin event
Where: Throughout the city
When: April 15th-23rd
Warnings: Inevitable character death, potential horror and gore and unpleasantness. Please remember to tag for warnings in the header if it things get too bad!

The morning of April 15th in Hadriel is cheerful, with artificial light streaming through your window. Your blankets are warm, jabberjays are shrieking, and you're probably going to experience a murder attempt today.

Maybe it'll be from a stranger, maybe it'll be from a friend, but the bottom line is that everybody is after somebody and nobody is safe (...okay, twelve people are safe, but that's beside the point). Time will only tell when you'll be overcome by that murderous rage and try to kill someone else. The best thing you can probably do at this point is stay calm, keep your head high, and try not to die for the next eight days.

Helpfully, Rage will have restocked her armory for the event, for those of you have yet to arm themselves. Additionally, for a limited time only, the armory will be stocked with bear traps, tripwire (in both 'general wire' and 'barbed wire' flavor), and voice recorders. Use all of them, use none of them, just get on out there and kill each other!

Oh, and one last thing...

► This log covers April 15th-23rd.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► Did your assassin catch up to you? Please remember to hit up our death post!

Comments

BLU Scout || 2 Closed and 1 Open

[bring_the_beatdown]

||Closed to Bucky||
Scout was wandering the streets. That's about all he had to do when he had no idea where he was and was just trying to get back home because he'd missed a whole lot of work by now and he was so gonna get fired. Not to mention that his Ma was gonna kill him for not calling her every Sunday like he promised.

And he'd missed a whole lot of Sunday's at this point.

Some of them weren't his fault because he was dead, not that he was ever going to admit that to anyone ever. But at least he knew the respawn here worked, that was good.

Currently Scout was just strolling around, balancing his bat on the palm of his hand and doing tricks with it. Never knew when a hot chick might be watching that he needed to impress.

And boy would that feeling of being watched not go away.

||Closed to Ciri||
This place sucked on ice. No one he knew, technology he didn't understand and won't ask for help with because that's admitting weakness. Not to mention he felt really weird. Weird and uncomfortable and anxious for some reason. Not things Scout liked at all.

And then he spotted Ciri. His first reaction was that she was freakin' hot. His second, and completely unexpected reaction, was the fierce and forceful urge to bash her skull in.

Scout stood there, dumbfounded as his tiny brain warred with the two conflicting reactions, his face an embarrassing mix of wanting to put on his most impressive shit eating grin and hit on her, and a snarl of rage as his hands tightened around his baseball bat.

||Open||
Okay. This was weird. Weird and he didn't like it at all. Scout was sort of crouched in an alleyway, staring out at what he could see of the cave suspiciously.

Something was happening, something he didn't like and didn't want to be a part of. He better not be turning into a wendigo again. Was he a werewolf.. er werewendigo? Weredigo? Screw that man.

"Dude, what the fuck's happening?"

[ichaer]

[ simply calling this day odd was something of an understatement. there's tension in the air, coiling around all of them and leaving an uncomfortable sensation in her chest. uncomfortable but familiar, reminding her of times when she stared down leo bonhart or came face to face with the wild hunt. it's a sensation alone is enough to put her on edge, hands balling into fists at her side and letting the weight of her sword settle on her back. she isn't sure just what might happen but she has to be prepared for it, be prepared for anything that might be thrown her way.

she just doesn't expect to cross paths with someone wanting to smash her face in.

the rage in his eyes isn't so unfamiliar either. she's seen that look before cast her way before and immediately it has her on the defensive, her hand reaching for the hilt of her steel sword. still, she cannot help the confusion of how this even came to be. she doesn't know this man, has never seen him and honestly cannot figure out just what might have caused him to look at her in such a way. there's a million and one question but for now, she focuses on his hands as they tighten around the weapon before flicking upwards to his face and frowning. ]

I assume you're not here to exchange pleasantries.

Glacius | Park, 20th | Closed

[glacius]

Another month, another reason for Glacius to be just as wary about humankind and the gods that oversaw this city. Just a few days ago, a man named Dorian had seemed hell-bent on harming another; after an intervention by the peaceful ice alien and a few others, the two had disengaged, but it hadn't taken very long for reports of similar wide-spread conflict to begin circulating through the city. Glacius had no taste for such thing and did not want to get caught up in the middle of it; though he would keep an eye out for anyone who needed his help, he often retreated to secluded areas to take time to calm his mind when his frustrations with the other inhabitants of the city began to simmer.

He still had no idea that he was subject to Rage's game as well.

He'd retreated to the park for now; it was quiet and it was large enough where it wasn't hard to find some space to himself, both things that he needed right now. What he really didn't need was to come across the target that Rage had assigned him to--unbeknownst to the ice alien. When Glacius saw Cecliy treading down the grassy path towards the bench he was currently occupying, he meant to simply vacate the area and find somewhere else to seclude himself. Instead he felt an extremely uncharacteristic swell of ire deep within his chest that had him rising to his feet and glaring standoffishly at the woman. The ice alien's normally imposing appearance--around seven feet tall, powerfully built, with spikes protruding from multiple points of his body--was normally somewhat offset by his gentle demeanor, but right now he looked a bristling mass of a threat as he warred with the anger that was trying to seize control of his mind and body.

[closerift]

She hadn't attacked Johanna Mason. Though she'd been, and she is, filled with an unquenchable rage that called for the stranger's death, the Inquisitor has thus managed to resist doing so. The feeling hasn't dwindled, unfortunately, leaving Cecily stalking the grounds of Hadriel without her weapons for fear of what she might do if she encountered Johanna again, though unable to stay cooped up in the house. The restless energy sent her out, wandering aimlessly, until she encountered an enormous creature, seemingly made of ice, standing in the distance.

Cecily stops, a good distance away, but wariness budding in her chest. She'd been approaching him, but there is something distinctly wrong about the way he's turned to look at her, and she swallows, hovering, unsure. He'd risen upon seeing her, which meant that he'd reacted to her presence specifically, most likely, and... if the gods are toying with them again, Johanna Mason may not be the only one in danger.

"Keep your distance," Cecily says evenly, though her heart begins the race. Maker, but whatever the creature is, he's huge and threatening. Instinctively, she takes a step backward, wishing for all the world that she hadn't left her bow in the house to try and stop herself from hurting one of the other residents for seemingly no reason.

Emily - a handful of murderous starters

[unfollowing]

April 15 or 16 - Enter the Murderer - Closed to Dorian, Jess, Glacius, and Ashley

[Emily is coming back to the house from a supply run. She's got a backpack full of coffee and canned vegetables (she's not brave enough yet to try the meat) and whatever fabric and sewing supplies she could find (not many, but she can start small, piece together a few doll-sized garments maybe?), and for all that she might seem to be scowling, she's in a pretty decent mood.

Which of course means that someone is going to dick her over, lending more credibility to the idea that Emily is just always mad. She's not, okay? Everyone else makes her mad.

She's more aware of her surroundings since that night on the mountain and the wendigo thing here, but she's definitely no match for someone with actual skills, so she's on her way as if nothing at all were going to happen to her (nobody expects sudden a murder attempt), close enough to the house that she will be very clearly heard if she screams.

Good luck, Emily.]


April 17 - Birth of Kuchisake Emily - closed to UD house

That fucker is going to get it.

[Since the makeup here is the cheapest of the cheap, Emily doesn't feel bad using it to draw on her face so it looks like her mouth is slit open from ear to ear, or to heavily line her eyes and make the slant of her eyebrows more severe, or to use blood-red lipstick to paint her lips and to simulate blood.

With the scraps of fabric she has gathered from the shops, she has fashioned herself a face mask (all white, in Emily's case) to wear, which lies off the the side of the makeup on the kitchen table, because of course she's doing it downstairs and not in her room. She has been munching on a pretty decent salad and having coffee for most of the day as she works on becoming the most badass fucking revenge ghost she remembers from her uncle's stories.]

Asshole thinks he can get away with being a fucking moron by coding goddamn Pong and shit? Piece of shit.

[She has also spent most of the day grumbling rather loudly about the focus of her rage. She hasn't even stopped to question why she is so full of hatred for Rhys, but really, why should she question it? He's nerdy, he's pathetic, and he did absolutely nothing to help when she and all the other unfortunates here were turning into wendigos. That Pong thing? Yeah, she's personally offended by that.]

Fucker's gonna wish he'd never shown his face anywhere.

[And by now, her housemates know that Emily intends to attack whoever goes after one of them. She's aware that this anger thing seems to be going around, but she still doesn't see it as irrational because fuck that Rhys guy, and fuck that asshole who tried to kill her, and fuck whoever goes after her friends.

Fuck everyone, basically, but especially those people. And definitely Rhys.

Sorry about her, UD house. You can try to talk her down, or you can try to help her out, or you can just hang out with her as she plots literal murder with a side of scring-the-shit-out-of.]


April 18-20 - Kuchisake Emily Sightings / possible murder attempts - open (murder attempts closed to Rhys)

[She wanders around with that mask on, glaring at everyone who looks at her, but don't worry. Emily won't attack you unless you attack her first.

Unless you're Rhys. If you're Rhys, you're fucked. She's got a kitcchen knife in the oversized jacket she's wearing (big pockets, yeees), and she is so past being afraid of using it. If for some reason she were to be unable to get to the knife, though, she's going full-on catfight on her assailant (and if you're Rhys, expect a knee to the balls, NOT SORRY).

Approach at your own risk, unless she approaches you first, at which point she will demand,] Where's Rhys?

April 16

[sparkler]

[Dorian is no different - heading back to his own house after rummaging through one of the shops, looking for decent clothing. It's never easy, here, but he's found a few items that will do until he can find something better.

And then he see someone, and - he's seen her around, he thinks, here and there, but they've never spoken. Still, something about her seems strangely familiar. And the expression on her face - Dorian doesn't know why he's suddenly angry, but he is, and it strikes so quickly that he doesn't have time to second-guess it. He steps forward, hand suddenly tight on his staff.

What was she doing? Stealing, maybe? Getting up to some sort of nonsense that will put them all in danger? Probably. Almost certainly.]

Where do you think you're going?

Liquid Snake | bar area | 1 closed and 1 open

[liquid_serpent]

[Closed to Kazuhira:]

[The bar felt like a nice place to sit down and enjoy a few drinks after the last few days of arena madness. No more monster chests thank god. Or should that be thank the gods? There was something in the air that unsettled Liquid though. Instead of a peaceful nature, there seemed to be malice everywhere. People were shooting sidelong glances at one another or was he just imagining that? No one seemed to be speaking to one another much. Had something happened? Or was something going to happen? Liquid seemed rather on edge, as he ordered himself a drink.

He gulped down the burning liquid and glanced around in the bar. There wasn't anyone around that he recognised. Just a few patrons. Maybe he was paranoid since this place often invited up trouble and danger.]

It feels as if something bad is about to happen. Maybe it's just me. [He muttered to himself, as he leant on the bar and ordered another drink.]

[Open:]

[Liquid had already drank three large vodkas and felt like getting pissed. Why not? This place had already wrenched him from everything he ever knew. Now, he just wanted to enjoy himself. Could he? He felt as if people were staring at him. Either that or they didn't like the look of him. So what? He didn't care. He just wanted to drink in peace. Nothing wrong with that, right? Something at the back of his mind was playing on him, as he stared into his empty glass.

What if he just punched the next person who called him something rude or stared at him wrongly? It could happen. He just didn't want to start a bar brawl or something because this place caused his bad mood.]

Everyone seems on edge. Or is it usually like this around here?

open!

[dedikated]

[ She sits down to order a beer just as the man she ends up next to speaks. Pushing her faded pink hair out of the way, Kate looks over at him, resting her chin on the back of her hand. ]

... More than usual. People aren't usually this bad. [ On edge? Sure. They're stuck underground in an unfamiliar place against their will. A lot of people are on edge about that. But this badly? Not that she's seen. ]

A BIG ASS CLUSTERFUCK— i mean, kanda yu :D

[beanstalk]

a. open, around the city

[ You know, it was bad enough that Kanda was irritable, finding himself here for a month and a half now with how foreseeable way out. It was with reluctance that he had taken up residence in one of the new housing areas. Just something about the smell of earth comforted him.

But that wasn't the case this time. He felt off when he woke up, off still after scavenging food and meditating, but what made him even more irritable was that he didn't know why he was feeling off. So the only thing there was left to do, honestly, was to distract himself, somehow. Might as well take yet another stroll around the city. At least it'll help him memorize the damn place better, even if he already knew at least half of it by memory.

This isn't going to be a happy day. ]

b. park, closed to henry

[ Well, he had somehow managed to make his way over to the park. Despite the place being an underground city, Kanda has to admit he's quite impressed with how it green it still was. Not to mention still fairly well kept. Okay, so maybe this place wasn't so bad...said his green thumb. Maybe he can start meditating here instead.

He can see, off in the distance, where the park was mostly unkept. His curiosity calls him toward it, but he instead just keeps wandering. Observing everything else. There'll be another day where he can venture deeper into the darker parts of the park. Figuratively, anyway.

Especially when he spots him off in the distance, very likely doing the very same thing he was. Henry. Kanda's never seen nor spoken to him in his life, but the sight of him literally makes him stop. Not in the 'oh my god he's so handsome love at first sight' kind of way, either. Ew. Rather, the sight of the other man just clicks something inside of him, something deep and dark that he had thought had vanished when Alma passed.

Rage.

It makes his fingers twitch, and before he's even thinking about it, his hand is unsheathing his crimson blade. He could rush in and attack. Go in head on, no questions asked. He could walk the long way around and sneak up on him, but that would take up too much time.

Rushing in head on sounded like the best course of action, anyway. Why not? With a silent thought, Mugen is activated and Kanda's making a beeline right for Henry.

Hope he didn't ruin your morning/afternoon. :D ]

c. park, lilith

[ Whatever means that the newcomer uses to distract Kanda, it works. The Exorcist is backing off, putting a good deal of distance between him, his prey, and the newcomer. Slender, redhead. Honestly, he can't help but tilt his head to the side in a slightly mad way. But at least the interruption has brought back a sliver of sense into him, but not enough. ]

You're in the way, woman. [ The way he speaks is harsh and cold, promising no compromise for the intrusion if she decides to press on. Even his eyes matched his temper, flaring and equally cold with absolutely no remorse for what he's trying to do. ] Leave, or die as well. [ It wasn't a threat. He has no idea what Lilith was capable of, but he didn't particularly care right now either.

Nor was he going to until Henry was dead. Act first, questions later. ]

d. park still, tyki mikk

[ OH MY GOD WHAT'S WITH ALL OF THESE DISTRACTIONS. HE JUST WANTS TO KILL SOMEONE! Though the blast of dark matter, no less, had served it's purpose to again split Kanda apart from his opponents, it also surprised him. Really surprised him. He had been stuck in his tunnel vision for so long that he didn't even sense Tyki approach, haphazardly using his Innocence without consideration that there may be a Noah stuck here with them all.

He was tired, though. Hurt, too. Lilith was no push over, and neither was Henry. It had been a two versus one fight that was slowly overpowering even Kanda at this point. He certainly didn't expect Lilith to have powers, but she sure do. And skilled with guns. Because that was always fantastic for a swordsman to face. But oh, it was starting to show he was both hurt and tired, bleeding and all.

So when Tyki gets Kanda's full attention, he feels the raw emotion of Kanda's shock through that anger. The realization that he was now in way too deep, with no way out. Kanda wasn't going to get out of this alive. His healing was gone, after all.

It's not long that Tyki gets to savor that look in Kanda's eyes before they narrow, returning to unbridled hatred. Legitimate, in this case. At least he was thinking now, with more and more people showing up, even if there was no way to sate that hatred until somebody died. ]

... Tch. Shit. [ Don't mind the wry smirk spreading across his lips. There's no enjoyment behind it, though maybe just a smidgen of fear if you squinted hard enough and tilted your head at the right angle. ]

e. for henry and dorian!!

f. for tyki and lilith!!!

b;

[hotspurred]

[Henry is not a man who repeats his mistakes. But knowing the futility of acting upon it does nothing to vanquish the fearsome rage burning beneath his skin. There is one he wishes to annihilate and cannot. It is fortunate for his honour, but unfortunate for his mood. He can barely control his temper even maintaining his distance.

Thus, precision drills in the park.

He can at least control the steel in his hand. There is a comfort in that. The kind of focus that such minute detail demands leaves no room to brood on impotent, unmovable anger. It provides a semblance of peace.

So naturally it cannot last.

Henry has been a knight for sixteen years, and many of them renowned. His instincts are honed to a keen edge. Even though he is surprised by the sudden approach, he is ready to meet it, slipping effortlessly into a defensive stance – he raises his shield, poises his sword, and steps off the intended line of attack, rendering all of his would-be-attacker's forward momentum useless and placing himself in a position to fend off the immediate follow up.]

What–

Rey | Closed and Open

[circumitus]

I. Open (April 15th-22nd)

Not even a week had gone by since Rey's return, and already some new bullshit was happening. People were acting strange and it didn't take long for her to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

It was going to be another one of those months again.

Though it was a heavy risk to take, Rey isn't one to hole herself up somewhere and wait out for the events to pass. Not when there are people out there who are being hunted by one another against their will. Instead, she can be found patrolling the streets, seeking out anyone in need of help. When she isn't on patrol, she's sneaking into the armory to peruse the selection, hoping not to run into anyone who may target her next. So far, no dice.

Mostly healed from the injuries she'd sustained back home, her face is mostly back to normal and she can walk on her own two feet. Small miracles in harsh times, it would see.

I. Closed to Liquid Snake and later Carlisle Longinmouth (April 23rd)

It doesn't take a rocket scientist for one to figure out that something is wrong, and Rey knows better than to wander outside unprepared now more than ever. After all, she'd given her word that she had no intentions of dying anytime soon, and for the most part she's not staggering in pain of her existing wounds. There is something to be said about not being human, and there are certainly some rare perks to having her father's cell line in her body.

More recently she's ventured the city streets, sporting her armor with its hood covering her head and whatever weapons she can scrounge from the armory. She doesn't know how this rage thing works -- if they need to see her face in order to trigger the effects. It's a risk she feels is worth taking if she can help someone evade their would-be assailants.

This may or may not be the case, when her intuition picks up on the sense that she's being followed. Though from where, she does not yet know. Foolish as it may be, she stops and pulls down her hood, glancing around for any sign of potential stalkers.

[liquid_serpent]

It was almost as if the god Rage had spoken to Liquid telepathically. He knew what he had to do and that was why he was following this woman. This complete stranger he'd never met in his life. His hands were gripped around his FAMAS rifle, as he stalked her through the streets, keeping an eye out for bodyguards, friends or anyone else that might aid her. He knew what he had to do.

He had to kill her. There was no way around it. She polluted the air he breathed and therefore she must die. Liquid narrowed his eyes when he saw her hood go down and he quickly darted in an alleyway averting her potential gaze. A few moments later and he was back to tracking and following her every move. He had to get closer to land the shot. One bullet to the back of the head and it would all be over. He even chuckled softly to himself at what was about to happen. Cocking his rifle sights to his right eye he aimed. He never missed.

"Time to die."

He muttered, as he aimed the rifle, crouched to steady himself and fired the bullet at the back of her head.

Krieg | open and closed

[fleshing]

closed to cibo

Anger boiling in his chest is nothing new. Anger directed toward a very singular individual? Also nothing new. He doesn't know what this is, this itch in his brain, but he needs to get rid of it. Whisper-voice is quiet now, all quiet in his head, and it's left him clear-minded, ready to reap whatever consequences he may.

Krieg doesn't need tactics. He doesn't need anything but his buzz-axe, and he hefts it his hands, massive shoulders squared. He knows who he has to find.

Just like some kind of old time, a memory that isn't his, a life that used to be remembered. No matter. No matter. No matter.

He knows who he's looking for as soon as he spots her. Krieg isn't known for his stealth; he charges at her with a crazed roar, single bloodshot eye locked on her silhouette.

"BLEED FOR MEEEEEEE!!"

open to anyone

There's a Psycho in the streets. He's not being quiet about it, clanging the blade of his axe restlessly against the buildings with the grating of metal over stone. Anyone who gets in his way will be ruthlessly shoved aside, or worse. He's hungry. He's - he's starving, needs an axe to a face, not his face, someone else's face, a very particular someone's face, needs to sink it in, needs to rip the flesh, needs to see brains and teeth and blood and pain and he needs it now. He'll kill her. He'll kill anyone. He's good for nothing else, this is what they made him for, pouring wet slag on him until he screamed and screamed and his voicebox died like a moth to a flame and he'll make them all pay.

Krieg clutches his head, groaning. Hurts. Hurts, always hurts. He's used to it, but it hurts.

"Need to hurt!" he whines angrily. "Need to - need to bleed!"

[watashinonamaewa]

Sure, people have been a little more aggressive lately. After the month prior going so smoothly, she almost expected something like this to break out in the city. Keeping away from it all? That's the challenge. Especially with her own itch in the back of her head to find someone just as badly as—

What is that noise? Is that roaring coming from a person or a machine? It's definitely coming from behind...

Oh—

Well, shit.

Her baton unsnaps from its holster, instantly blitzing into its own electric rage. Heart racing. This isn't a first. She's dealt with her own variety of psychos before.

Bruce Banner: Open

[zen_en_vert]

1

The theme of the month is apparently 'kill and be killed,' but the penny has yet to drop for Bruce Banner. His life in Hadriel is fairly quiet; he cooks, he makes tea, he gives the odd lesson in first aid. Mostly, food is brought to the clinic, and he eats there, since he's already cooking meals for whoever's stopped in at the time, but when the days are quiet and there's nobody around, he does his own scavenging. No sense going hungry, and since the large monster cull earlier in the year, things have been fairly safe out there.

There's no part of him that sees any of it coming.

2

This all has to do with rage, and so predictably enough, later in the month, Bruce is green and big and angry- and, as the comics say, no one is particularly inclined to like him when he's angry.

This day he smashes through a wall, through a sidestreet, through one of the old, defunct temples, howling wildly, chasing after the person who set him off, and then eventually just staggering around as he pours his rage out, and returns slowly, painfully to calm, like a dying storm.

3

Afterwards, when the shaking is over and he's kept a meal down and had a cup of his disgusting hand-harvested tea, he focuses on getting the clinic ready, and on checking around on the network to see if he needs to set out, and what's being said.

It becomes slowly clear that this is a pattern, and that people are getting hurt, are going to continue to get hurt.

2 → 3 (if that's ok!)

[watashinonamaewa]

It's not everyday that Cibo gets to watch a giant green man(?) run rampant around a city. She's familiar with berserk monsters, but this is a little different. The tall scientist keeps her distance on various rooftops and at the end of street blocks to just observe. There's no way she can approach him without getting an arm ripped off, she's sure.

When he's finally calming down, something in his rabid brain telling him it's time to finally stop, she makes a careful approach with a slight limp. This late in the game, Cibo has done her hunting. She's done her being hunted. A large gash in her side leaves her entire left abdomen and leg covered in her own sticky red-black blood. It's even in her white hair and smudged across her soft pale skin.

It would be a lie if she didn't admit that her curiosity is getting the better of her with this decision. She would have just gone straight home to sleep this all off, let her body heal up if she hadn't noticed the warpath. Now she just has to know. Her baton is clasped to her right hip. Not that she thinks the 7.5 million volts will even phase him. She might as well just consider herself on her own with this one.

"Hey, big guy." Softly. She's more careful than before. "Getting tired, huh?"

Veek Vishwanath: Open

[definitely_velma]

Despite having lasted her first month here, Veek is in no way, shape or form used to the city of Hadriel.

Veek keeps expecting that someone from home is going to manage to pull her back out. Somewhere, somewhen, Nate is flipping every switch imaginable, is running iterations of the Albuquerque door program over and over again, peeling through time and space to try to find her. She expects to be rescued.

It takes about that long for the rest of what she knows about interuniversal travel to sink in, through the pretense she keeps up in her head that she is experienced with this, that she understands this; the multiverse is big. It’s tremendous, it’s unfathomable, and they have only really managed to scratch the surface of it. Just because she lives with people who have survived brushes with nightmares like this before, just because she herself has survived them before, doesn’t mean that they have any more control over what’s happening here than anyone else does.

It’s the hot-hands fallacy. Veek survived turning off the machine the first time; Veek survived turning off the machine on purpose that second time; Veek is no more likely to survive being shafted off to the city of Hadriel for that being true. Veek is, in fact, lucky to begin with that she didn’t go the way of Oskar or Tim, or the scientists lost to the door project. Maybe that’s why she’s here? Maybe, just maybe, she has been tempting fate.

Honestly, she's about due for something horrible to happen to her. Rage's- well, whatever this is, certainly qualifies.

She's in the street, when she lunges at her first target, then later in the day when she's working hard to avoid whoever must be gunning for her- and finally just on her way home, battered and bruised and looking at every stranger to pass her by with large, wary eyes.

[ampliat]

It's been a Day.

Or a Week, maybe.

When does it end?

Home is no longer a safe sanctuary. Not a threat against her, but instead she's the threat. Against someone who should be a friend. It's a though she both knows yet can't let take root. Every time she tries to reorient Gansey as "friend" and not "enemy" the anger boils in her and her hands ball into fists.

So she takes to exiling herself. Usually to her room, in hopes of limiting her chances of running into Gansey. Today she needs air before she resents that his presence keeps her caged in one room. She sneaks out when he's away, then strolls the streets of the city. Strolls in a way that a girl with commando boots and an angry scowl can stroll. It's more of a tromp than a stroll.

Yet while out among the city, she's taken by surprise when a dark blur sets upon her. So shocked, that she nearly stabs her sword into what she expects to be a monster.

She freezes, eyes wide and eyebrows raised in shock and confusion.

"What are you--"

No wait.

"Who are you!?"

Maketh Tua - open and closed

[mismanagement]

[closed to Adam]

[Things have been looking up lately, in Maketh's opinion. The newest batch of arrivals came in without incident, the monsters haven't eaten or maimed anyone lately, and she recently got her hands on a gun. It's an ancient thing, not even close to meeting Imperial standards, but it's something. She'll just have to remember to count her shots and preserve ammo.

She's going about her daily patrol when she hears the noise.

Well, of course this peace wasn't going to last. She swings the gun off her back and runs towards the commotion.]

[open]

[What is happening? Maketh ducks into an alley, rifle clutched to her chest, and tries to slow her breathing. Something is wrong with her. She feels like she did when the wendigo mess happened, when she was poisoned and it was so easy to get angry at everything. She nearly--

She nearly killed someone. Little fucker deserved it, her brain hisses. Get him get him GET HIM.

If anyone happens to come past this particular ally, they'll see Maketh huddled in the corner, trying very hard to stop crying.]

[closed to Nick]

[Maketh decides she needs a drink. Or possibly to get so drunk that she passes out and won't be a danger to anyone for the next eight hours or so. Delight's party is long done, but the alcohol remains. She's in the midst of staring at a wall of shining bottles, rifle slung over her shoulder, and attempting to figure out what will get her drunk the fastest.]

[bekommen]

[Nick has always found alcohol to be a welcome distraction, but never more so than here and now, in this godawful underground city full of monsters, far from any semblance of home and - apparently - now without any friends to speak of, either. Her own fault, really, for believing in people - for wanting to believe in people, despite what she has always known to be true - that they will always, always let her down.

Whatever. Alcohol's reliable and it's readily available, and it reminds her of her life back in Chicago, before it became this complete shitshow, before Canada and Stanley Park, before she ever heard the word Nightbane or knew that this kind of monster is what she always was, lurking underneath a thin veneer of humanity. It's not like she has anywhere else to be or anyone else to spend her endless free time with, so she may as well be at the bar, right? Why the fuck not.

Nick is no stranger to anger - her default is a slow simmer of it on all but her best days, and she hasn't seen a best day in quite some time now. But she's never felt this angry, this violent toward someone she's never met before, someone who hasn't done anything except turn up in the same place at the same time.

If she could think straight, Nick might remember feeling this kind of uncontrollable rage once before in Hadriel, after the goddess of the same name had been revived. She might remember that and wonder if maybe the wash of fury she feels now might be caused by something similar at work, if she weren't so completely overcome by a single thought - KILL HER.

Nick's never actually started a barfight before, but she's finished or broken up more than a few. She might think, as she picks up a nearby chair and hurls it in Maketh's direction, about how there's a first time for everything - if she could think about anything at all besides inflicting as much damage as possible.]

Damianos of Akielos | 2 Closed 1 Open

[barbarus]

For Handsome Jack

[ As soon as he knew that it existed, Damen had visited the armoury. He'd been able to supplement his broadsword with knives, a shield, and even a long spear. The latter would be more useful if he had a horse to ride, but in the absence of that, he would still make do. A throwing weapon could still come in useful here, depending on what wanted a piece of him.

That was his reason for arming; the cave creatures, and the threat they posed to the city, rather than any intention to fight other citizens. That's far from his mind. He's too new here to have a personal grudge against anyone, save perhaps for the gods themselves.

That changes when he sees Handsome Jack. Damen can't explain the reasons for it. The surge of anger that rocks through him is nearly overwhelming - and entirely illogical, given that he's never even met the man. It doesn't matter. Rage is something with which Damen is intimately familiar, and his body moves long before his mind has a chance to catch up. He strides across the ground towards him. If the sight of an enormous, heavily muscled man in an armoured skirt coming towards him doesn't get Jack's attention, the singing of his sword being drawn may well. But if not: ]

You! Stop what you're doing and face me!

For Cho Hakkai

[ It has been a strange few days. Damen is not a stranger to fighting - far from it, in fact - but the sheer rage he'd felt for Jack, a man he did not even know, had stunned even Damen. He's aware by now that he is not the only one to have experienced a moment of madness, and his worry for the citizens here is the thing that propels him out. The armoury he'd been directed to has kept his supplies well stocked. He still favours his own, Akielon blade, the quality of which is undeniable - the best his army could have offered. He'd taken the best Marlas could supply. But Rage's store had supplied him with plentiful knives, and a shield that he now wears on his back.

Currently, he has a spear in hand, while his sword is sheathed at his side. His gaze is sharp and prepared, though the people around him are not treated as enemies. Instead, he watches them for any traitorous movement, anything that indicates they might attack one another.

He's prepared, as well, for the potential of an attack upon himself. It doesn't worry him as much as protecting the civilians; Damen is not a man who fears for his own safety. If a fight is coming, he's confident he'll win it. He skirts the edge of the apartment spires, watching for any trouble. ]

Open: Patrolling

[ The rest of the time, it's not hard to find Damen around the city. He's always armed, and his mood is generally calm - aside from when he's dealing with Jack. And of course, after his fight with Cho, he'll be less visible. the need to recover will keep him off the streets then.

But before it, he'll make a strong presence; tall, dressed in Akielon armour that would look Ancient Greek to anyone from Earth, and armed to the teeth with a broadsword, knives, and a spear in his hands.

He's watching for trouble - from cave creatures, yes, but from people too. If you need protection, he'll give it, happily. ]

[stepford_smiler]

[Hakkai is also all too familiar with fighting. It's been a nonstop constant in his year of journeying to the West in his own home. Hoards of crazed and vengeful demons, a few overpowered and deranged humans, and the occasional inexplicable monster have all challenged he and his travelling companions and met with defeat one way or another.

And though he holds so many victories under his belt, his appearance is rather unassuming. He has a very pretty and delicate face that shows no malice. His body is slender and lithe, most would say even scrawny from the bouts of starvation during his journey. At first glance, one would never imagine that he could be capable of vicious and ruthless killing.

Hakkai noticed that the smell of blood was heavy in the air and the auras of violent intent had spiked significantly since his arrival. And since he was new here, he didn't know exactly what to expect, so he was always on his toes.

He left his little dragon home since he sensed far too much danger outside and decided to see if he could be of any use. He figured that his healing abilities could get some use if there were any injured people around that needed any.

However, as he starts walking around with no intentions of fighting anyone, he spots a large and muscular man heavily armed with weapons. Normally, he would have paid no mind to a human minding his own business. In fact, he would have given an encouraging word to someone bravely protecting others. He finds it noble. But for some reason just seeing his face, he hated that man. It was a visceral, unadulterated hatred that someone with his sort of gentle face was surprisingly very capable of.

The way Hakkai felt rage was cold. It was the kind of frigid cold that could chill someone's lungs and hurt their bare skin. It drained him of rational thought and the few good morals that he had were long forgotten like a pleasant dream only to be replaced by nightmares.

Hakkai and his companions were normally full of witty one-liners, battle banter, and quips to their passionate and clumsy enemies that they disposed of. But this feeling of rage that crept up through his blood and froze his heart left no room.

Suddenly, Damen was faced with a viper-like strike from Hakkai's closed fist towards his solar plexus.]

cullen rutherford | open & closed.

[smited]

THE FEAR OF DEATH IS IN YOUR EYES. ( OPEN )

It's not hard to realize something is going terribly, terribly wrong. Cullen can feel the anger in his gut, a banked flame that could reignite at any moment, and knows something is up. But at least this is tolerable. At least he still has his mind, unlike the last time he thought Rage might be up to something. Still, he treads carefully as he takes Pup for his daily walks around Hadriel. If something is in the air (so to speak) it's best to be prepared for it.

Everyone who approaches him gets a somewhat wary look. Even those he's normally friendly with. Just in case. One can never be too careful when it comes to the meddling of the so-called gods, after all. It's nothing personal. The dog, on the other hand, is as friendly as ever, greeting old friends and new with excited barks and tail wags. Much to Cullen's chagrin.

"Pup, heel," he calls after the mabari. "Leave them alone."

IN YOUR HEART SHALL BURN AN UNQUENCHABLE FLAME. ( CLOSED TO GLACIUS & CECILY )

When he leaves the house, it's not actually to track Glacius down. Not totally, anyway. Oh, Cullen can't deny that he's absolutely steaming at what's happened to Cecily, but it's--understandable. Even if just thinking that makes him want to grind his teeth. (He hates this place. Really, truly hates it.) When he leaves, it's to take Pup on his evening walk. Let the dog use the facilities and so on. What he doesn't expect is to see the alien that attacked his wife. Nor does he expect the sudden, blinding rage that overcomes him.

"You," he hisses through clenched teeth as he draws his sword and readies his shield. "You have a lot to answer for, demon."

Glacius likely isn't an actual demon. He certainly looks like no demon Cullen has ever encountered. But in the haze of his rage, it's easier to think of him that way. To see him as the thing Cullen hates more than anything. A demon who harmed his wife. Who would harm others if he is not put down.

With a snarling cry, Cullen charges at Glacius shield-first. A good bash to stun him with so he can follow up with his sword. Just like the Chantry taught him.

LET MY BLOOD TOUCH THE GROUND. ( CLOSED TO CIBO )

Maker, what has he become? He let himself lose his head. He turned on his wife. He turned on the damn dog in his rage. When the red veil that covered his thoughts lifts a little, he flees. Goes to the river's edge to stare at his reflection in the water and give in to his self-loathing. Just for a little while.

He'd said he was going to be a better man. He's been trying so hard to not give in to the fear and the anger that still sometimes creeps up on him. And now look at him. A bloody mess that that marred the best thing in his life. It's like he's twenty again, except this time he knows better. Cullen growls at his reflection and turns away. Buries his head in his hands and tries to pull his fragmented thoughts together.

Footsteps behind him have him tensing, anxious. He turns, and relaxes just a little when he realizes it's no one he knows. At least if it's someone out to kill him, he doesn't have to fess up to what he's done.

"I suppose this means it's my turn now." And here he is without his sword. "Come on, then. Give it your best shot."

[watashinonamaewa]

The water is serene in the midst of the chaos running through his mind. A shape emerges deep beneath the surface. A shadow of a creature lurks slowly into view just as the man hides his head in his hands. It's an omen. A warning. It wants to help him. And then it's gone.


Cibo stands only a few feet away with the baton buzzing at full power. She's calm, though her heart is beginning to race. This man is horrible for every reason she can imagine. He wants to hurt the people she cares about. He wants to hurt her precious coelacanth looming in the water. He wants to hurt her.

A kind voice is telling her to stop. It's not her own voice but she can almost recognizes it. Another voice is louder in her ears, pounding and drowning the kind voice out. Telling her to do it. Do it. Do it. She has to make it stop before she goes insane. Whatever she can to make it stop. She has to do it.

Without words, her feet push forward. She's quick and that distance closes. She tries to kick him to the water.

agent washington | closed and open

[blameful]

OPEN

[ he doesn't even know her name.

— or what her name had been, rather, because she's on the ground at his feet with two holes in the back of her head, now nameless and limp, still warm. he checks for a pulse despite the blood pooling thick under his boots, but he already knows what he'll find as his fingers prod her throat: nothing. her death had been quick, instanateous; the second the controlled rounds from his rifle pierced her skull and brain, red mist splattering the dirt on both entry and exit, she'd been a fucking goner. dead.

the rage that came flooding in with her murder is gone, too, replaced by a cold calm and colder acceptance. he did this. though his hands shake violently when he pushes the hair from her face and tucks a loose strand behind her ear, his heart thumps at an even, steady rhythm under his ribcage, forty-five beats per minute.

maybe he should move her, at least out of the streets, somewhere sheltered where rodents and vermin won't find her body. she's much smaller than him, lifting her would be easy, but he hesitates as he starts to gather her in his arms, and then after a moment slowly lowers her body back to the ground. he could leave her here and hope that her friends come searching for her. that might be better. more respectful.

wash doesn't get a chance to decide. there's a scuffle of approaching footsteps behind him, and he turns to look as he stands, his sidearm drawn. ]

YORK

[ the calm doesn't last forever.

when the shock finally ebbs from his system, it's two days later and wash can't stay still. he can't sleep, either, and takes to the back alleys of hadriel instead, prowling in a winding circle around the city, over the bridge that leads to the armory and then west through the coliseum. after his unfortunate encounter with bianca, he stashed his rifle and sidearm in the hidden floor compartment of an empty house, and now aside from the knife at his hip, he's mostly unarmed and not even slightly harmless.

still — if he happens to flip his shit again on some unsuspecting, defenseless stranger, he's at least mildly evened the playing field. that counts. totally.

wash is so tired that passing landmarks and buildings melt together in a greyscale blur, but also so hyper aware of every nearby sound, from a pebble dropping to a shout in the distance. by the time he rounds a corner toward the coliseum for his fifth walk around that night ( day? who the fuck knows ), he's got his hand on his knife's hilt, curled tight, ready to strike.

and that's exactly what he does when he swings onto the next street and comes face-to-face with york. he doesn't pause, doesn't stop to think or focus on who he's attacking; the knife streaks from its sheath in a silvery flash as he slices up toward york's throat and helmet.

what a stirring reunion. his bad. ]

ooc. i'll match brackets or prose!

[decryptify]

[ York has been following him for a while, now.

Really he's kept a close eye on him since he'd realized he was here, since he'd tracked Maine after recovering from their first -- encounter, and found the trail leading him to another familiar face. York hasn't really felt the need to follow him constantly, finds him easy enough to keep track of to just stay in his vicinity and check in once or twice a day. There's a lot about him that's different, from what he remembers, and the thing is, he knows Wash knows he's here, too.

He was content to wait until Wash came to him, one day, until -- well. A few days ago, something was different, a thought that wormed into his thoughts when he went to check on him as usual, watching from the rooftop of a nearby building as Wash picked his way through the streets, and. His hand was resting against a concrete wall, tightening, white-knuckled under his armor until the stone cracked under his fingers.

It just one thought, one flicker of an intention, but the more York dwells on it and the more he checks on him, the more it -- makes sense, the more it gets into his thoughts, the more this strange anger burns in him and it feels like he's always had it, even before. why wouldn't he hate Wash? For not doing shit during the breakout at Freelancer, for not helping, for staying with the project when everythign was falling apart -- for this. He's here, they're both here and not even wanting to speak to him, and of course he fucking wouldn't because he's working with Maine, now. Maine. Knowing what he did, what he's done, and there Wash was talking to him like everything's fucking fine when it isn't.

He bides his time. York has always been a planner, doesn't need to rush things, but the more that anger builds in the pit of his stomach the more he thinks he doesn't really need a plan. Wash wouldn't stand a chance, anyway, would he? It'd be over quickly, especially without Maine with him, it'd be over quickly and York would feel all the better for it when he finally has a little bit of fucking payback.

It's easy enough to find him, easy enough to track him down, and this will be easy, simple, clean. Maybe he could do it quicker, but maybe he wants to see him when he does this, and he lets Wash worry about the sound of his footsteps, lets Wash walk right into him as they turn the corner, and oh, what's this, a fucking knife, adorable. ]

-- Whoa, whoa, hey. [ There's a laugh in his voice, as calm and easy as ever, and he catches Wash's arm by the wrist, the blade stopping an inch away from his helmet. ] Settle down, rookie.

Ashely | Open & Closed

[cowardley]

▍▍▍▍APRIL 16TH | STORES | OPEN

[ The stocks in the stores change every couple of days, and so every couple of days Ashley leaves the familiar comfort of the Until Dawn house to do a little shopping. Most days, she comes out of the stores with little more than a nice sweater, or a neat shower curtain.

Today, she finds a dress. It's a nice dress, and she holds it up to herself, looking down as she tries to judge whether or not it's a style she can pull off. Should someone be in the store with her, she turns to them, still holding the pastel green dress against her chest. ]

What do you think?

▍▍▍▍APRIL 18th | ARMORY | OPEN

[ It's become frighteningly clear that people in the city are out for blood. Ashley is certain that most are only after specific people, her own feelings towards Newt, a teen she's barely had any contact with, have become overwhelmingly negative despite all the good things she's heard of him. She knows it's godly manipulation, but it does little in helping quell the fire in her belly, small as it may be.

She wants nothing to do with hurting another, but Ashley is wise enough to understand that not everyone will have the same moral coding, or ability to ignore such a burning desire. And, so, Ashley visits the armory.

She's never been a fan of violence, and so she skips past the swords, the shields, and the bows. Instead, her focus lays on the traps. She brushes her fingers carefully over the teeth of one of the bear traps in mild fascination. It doesn't cut, but she can feel the sharpness of its jagged jaws. She moves to pick up the metal contraption, but upon testing it's weight, she returns it to its place; she couldn't carry more than two of those at a time, and with the house some distance away, Ashley doesn't dare risk it.

So, she moves onto the wires. After a moment of consideration, she slips several barbed ones into her knapsack as carefully as she can. They're not quite the damaging type of trap she had hoped for, but they would do in protecting the house, or, at the very least, give them a heads up of an intruder. ]

▍▍▍▍APRIL 22nd | UD HOUSE | CLOSED

[ It's been a week since people began to lose their marbles around certain other people, and Ashley won't leave the house. They don't need anything from the stores, not if they keep their snacking habits to a minimum, and people can't break in—at least not without alerting the whole house to their presence; you see, Ashley has set up a string of bells on the handles of all the entrance way doors, and further past each door is a low lying barbed trip wire.

Ashley has given the house a quasi-alarm system, and she listens for it intently no matter which room she's in. Right now, she's on the couch, bags beneath her eyes, picking at a bowl of instant ramen; she's added some green onion, but it's still instant ramen.

Sullenly, she says down to her bowl. ] I would kill for a cookbook right now.

[ But not really kill kill. Metaphorically kill. ]

april 22nd - i'm so sorry for her in advance

[unfollowing]

[The bells go off, which Emily is prepared to tell Ash is a half decent idea for an alarm system, until she trips over the barbed wire.

There's a thud and a loud groan of god fucking damnit! from the direction of the front door, then a few more curses as Emily pushes herself up off the floor and tries to tug her leg free. Her pants are stuck on the wire, though, and she's too winded and pissed off to think to just stay calm.

Instead, she whines,] Is anyone home? I'm stuck! Help me!

[hungryasacaveman]

1- Closed. Sorry Kylar

[Anger is not a new emotion to Koda. But in his case, it has always been very closely linked to his survival. Be mad at your opponents, be mad at the people taking what little resources your clan has, at the terrifying monsters attacking your little brother, because fear will get you both killed and inaction isn't an option. And as he became a Power Ranger, this only intensified: instead of a clan it was his new family, instead of a little brother it was literally the planet Earth.

And so functional anger is so closely linked to his instincts that when he sees his target it doesn't even occur to him to not leap at him, coming at great speed from a startling distance to try and tackle Kylar to the ground.]

2- Open

[When that's not happening, however, his anger turns down to a simmer - only let it out on the deserving. And if he hasn't met Kylar yet, then he's already on edge from the sudden tension in the caves and the smells of adrenaline, anger and distant blood that fill his oversensitive nose. He's tense, on edge, and he's not sure how to deal with such an extended length of unease in the air, so he'll be found wandering the caves in every conceivable location, trying to escape the unsettling atmosphere.]

[dangerous_dog]

[Later, the way Bob will know that something was very wrong with the attack, is the fact that he was walking Rocco when it happened. He sees Koda, and he knows, simply knows that he must be killed. With one last moment of pure lucidity, he walks to the nearest door of an empty building, and knots the leash off on the door handle, tying the puppy up. He turns away without his usual word of encouragement or pat on the head, and takes for steady steps directly towards the stranger walking down the street.

Koda will have a few seconds to react to the clear and purposeful rage in Bob's expression, before he's there and swinging.]

Dorian Pavus | open & closed

[sparkler]

[a: the game begins, april 15, closed to yu narukami]

[Dorian has tried to reach the Fade, to contact spirits, once or twice since arriving here. It's failed each time, and each time he's tried something new - a different spell, something he's created or refined in hopes that this time it will actually work. That's what he's doing now, in a mostly empty area of the park, a space of grass between the trees. He's making do with what he can find in the city - candles, some assorted foodstuffs that might work, and a few things he brought from home, all scattered around him as he attempts the spell.

It fails, of course. Wherever the Fade is, he can't reach it. But around him, for a moment, swirl things that look very much like spirits - pained ones, the spirits of the damned, perhaps. It's mostly cosmetic, because Dorian has a flair for the dramatic, but it certainly would look alarming to one untrained in necromancy.

He sighs, lowers his arms.]

Failure, again? This is ridiculous.

[b: what the hell, april 18, open]

[Truly, he doesn't understand why he would attack that girl. She seemed to be a threat - still does, somehow - but logically Dorian knows that she probably is not. She's no fighter, no mage. There is nothing about her that would seem like a threat, and yet he finds himself absolutely sure that she is.

He doesn't like it. Dorian has killed before - one must, when one is at war - but he would prefer to avoid killing innocents and those who do not deserve it. He thinks she probably doesn't, even if all of him wants to believe otherwise. And so he's snagged a bottle of something like wine, found a quiet corner of the library (not difficult, when the entire place is quiet) and is getting himself pleasantly drunk. Maybe then things will make more sense. Maybe then he won't want to kill someone who's done nothing to him.]

Re: open;

[liquid_serpent]

[It was more out of chance that Liquid had found himself in the library. Exploring the city was something he was doing more now that he had found his feet so to speak. Yet, there was the matter of the killing. He had to kill his target; the girl called Rey. But why? He didn't even know her, yet something was driving onwards to end her life. He sighed and concentrated on the man in front of him drinking wine.]

This place has that effect on you, doesn't it?

ciri | open & closed

[ichaer]

❚❚❚❚❚ open

[ the attack finds purchase and ciri sees stars, thunder rumbling in her skull.

she stumbles back, pressing her free hand against her head in some vain attempt to slow flow of blood. she has to get out of here, her mind screams but her feet feel like lead and she can't bring herself to open her eyes against the pain. her sword is kept up defensively but she can't focus, unable to feel out just where the next attack might be coming from and feels panic settling in her chest. if she doesn't do something she'll die in this attack. the thought of that alone is enough to piss her off, spur her into the only action she can muster and one that'll at least allow her to have another shot.

digging deep, she blocks out the pain and calls on her powers before vanishing in a flicker of greenish-white light. leaving was always easy but landing can be difficult, especially when she doesn't give it much thought. all she wanted was to get away from this fight and she certainly finds herself away from it though the location comes at random. either way, wherever you might be (library, armory, middle of the street or even at home) do excuse the flash of light and young woman that suddenly appears out of thin air.

though she doesn't make herself easy to ignore, not with the way she hits the ground with a hard enough crash that sends her sword clattering across the ground and away from her. neither with how she lays there, gasping for air after having it thoroughly knocked out of her lungs. ]

Ow... [ she finally manages between gritted teeth, hand finding her head and ignoring the blood sticking chunks of hair together. instead, she pats at the ground blindly near her side, trying to find her sword. ] Damned cave, damned gods, damn... damn it all.

❚❚❚❚❚ closed

[ ever since she was attacked, ciri has been keeping a rather paranoid eye out and every step out of her apartment is one that has been carefully planned. she still patrols, trying to help those in need but she also tries to keep an eye out for the asshole in blue that originally attacked her. although she has figured godly manipulation at play, it has not helped with her annoyance nor with the anger burning through her veins.

but that anger is nothing like the rage she feels when she spots him, some teen with a mop of hair not that much younger than her and someone she knows she's never spoken to before. never even met before now but all she can think about is the rage and how much she hates him. it's truly startling and she almost steps back, almost teleports away.

it doesn't happen because she steps forward instead, draws her sword and continues toward him. her head is pounding from her earlier wound but she ignores it, pushing herself to keep moving. it's nothing like her hunts for monsters, there is no sneaking and no surprises. she's trying to make herself known and trying harder to ignore how right this feels. this person, this huge unknown deserves it and she's going to drive her sword through his heart. it's the only thing that makes sense and the only thing her mind can focus on.

everything else didn't matter except for her putting an end to this and to give the rage boiling inside her an answer with blood. ]

[watashinonamaewa]

[ Somewhere amidst the chaos of killing sprees and people rampaging through the streets, Cibo made her way to the library. Simple wandering there to keep away from the danger or subconsciously searching for her target in every nook and cranny of the city... She doesn't really expect anything to be among the rows of shelves.

There's that flash of light from across the room. The clatter of metal and the heaving of air. In a heartbeat, she moves toward it. When she catches sight of someone on the ground and a sword beside them, she urgently makes her way to put the blade just out of their reach.

Nothing personal. She just isn't in the mood for a fight- ]

Oh. Shit... Ciri, right?

[ Admittedly, Cibo relaxes too soon. Concern replaces caution. She kneels down to offer a hand to her right away. ]

What happened? Are you okay?

agent york // open & closed

[decryptify]

open;

-- Hey, come on. This way.

[ Whatever trouble you were in, whatever person was after you, whatever you were trying to get away from, it was apparently enough of a scuffle that you caught York's attention. He appears out of a nearby alley, clasping an armored hand over your shoulder, squeezing lightly, reassuringly, his voice laid back and reassuring, calm. This is fine, you'll be fine. It's safe.

If you aren't too intimidated by the random giant armored space marine and take him up on his offer, he'll gesture you into the empty building behind him, but he won't follow you in. He'll linger outside for a few minutes more, just making sure whatever threat it is you've narrowly escaped is well and truly gone before he shows back up again, and even if you can't see his face there's something just about the way he moves that's cheerful and almost a little too calm. ]

There. All clear. [ A pause, a tip of his head. ] You alright?

closed to the alcohol demon;

[ York hasn't been in this place all that long, but really, it does feel like something's going on. He still spends most of his time breaking into old, abandoned buildings and rooms just to look around, learning the lay of the land and committing the streets to memory, but now and then he hears fighting, hears people, might even see something a few blocks over when he's up on a rooftop.

Whatever it is, he thinks it'll be wise to stay out of most of it. It's been a couple days since he's checked in on Wash, too, and that's worth looking into. He's wandering through some fairly open area, crumbled buildings and rubble all around, maybe just whistling a little to himself as he works to try and pick up on Wash's trail, when. ]

-- You hear that, D? [ Softly, but still out loud, to no one in particular because Delta still isn't fucking there. ] We got company.

[ There's someone nearby, he can hear them, heard them moving, but York just goes right back to whistling after a moment's pause, kicking aside some loose piece of rubble as he keeps moving. ]

closed to agent maine;

[ -- What the fuck has he done.

His mind is still reeling his heart hasn't stopped racing, and it's been an hour, now, at least. Maybe more? It could've been days, he can't fucking tell, days since he's been wandering through the city with Wash's dead fucking body slumped over his shoulder. York remembers standing over him, remembers holding the knife in his hand, remembers seeing him slump and collapse and choke on his last breaths, and -- then having that strange anger burn away, leaving nothing but a slow realization and creeping dread in its wake.

There was nothing he could do. He fell to his knees, ripped off Wash's helmet, and it was him, of course it really was him, same familiar rookie as always, already turning a little too pale to be alive. York was cursing, swearing under his breath, please, fuck, fuck, I'm sorry, why did I -- please --

He has Wash's helmet under one arm, now, and he tries to keep his eyes trained ahead. He tries not to think too much about what it is he's done. If he lets himself linger on it, he's going to fucking -- he doesn't know, he'll snap, he'll break, he doesn't have time for that fucking shit. There's something going on and he'll get to the bottom of it, he just needs to focus. Breathe, keep calm, watch my back, okay, Delta, I just need to do this, I just need to get him somewhere to -- bury him, I don't fucking know, don't argue with me on this D, don't.

York's on the edge of the city, now, heading out towards the open. He just needs to find somewhere -- somewhere good. Somewhere safe. And god, what has he done. ]

open;

[watashinonamaewa]

[ The voice doesn't register right away. Except the hands are touching her and she's moving where ever they may guide her.

She has a foggy head and hazy vision. A trail of a bloody footprint with each misplaced step comes from a torn open side beneath her now sealed suit. The bleeding has slowed significantly, but not enough that she should be moving around.

His voice is a muffle beneath the ringing in her ears. ]

Yea- Yeah... [ Wobbling just to get a better look at him. She doesn't look like she's in any pain, despite the blood loss. ] I-... might need stitches.

Rhys | Open / Closed

[hybridification]

Open
[Really, it's a miracle that he hasn't died yet already. If not Lilith or Handsome Jack, then whoever drew his name would certainly have an edge on him. And yet, he's still alive, still holed up in his house- until, that is, they run out of coffee. Then he pretty much has no other choice.

That doesn't mean he's going to be stupid about it. As a matter of fact, he's going to be resourceful. Rhys can then be found throughout the city as he scavenges, his stun rod collapsed and sticking out of his pocket as he rifles through the shelves of the store in search of his missing coffee.

But that's not all: Rhys is a goddamn ninja through the town. He ducks. He rolls between shelves. He tries to imitate bird calls to distract people before zig zagging behind them to avoid detection. It doesn't look weird.

Long story short? He's got this.]

Closed to Yu Narukami
[He does not have this.

Rhys has been following this guy around for what feels like all day- it's probably just been a few minutes though- and he's not really doing anything interesting. Which sucks, because Rhys is in full on East Clintwood 'just give me one reason why I shouldn't cave your head in' mode.

The problem is, his creepyass-and-probably-extremely-obvious stalking is not really providing him with a good reason to want this guy dead, even though he really wants this guy dead. So without any other alternative, Rhys decides to just kill him and maybe he'll find a receipt for betting on kitten fighting or something in his smarmy little pocket.

In the end, he frowns and pulls out his small robot, hiding himself around a corner while he uplinks to it and opens up the control panel stored conveniently in his robot arm.

Yu will notice- well, if he hasn't noticed anything by now, he'll notice the sound of metallic whirring behind him. If that's not enough of a surprise, this little sentry robot is going to let loose an unearthly, glitchy screech and proceed to dive bomb him like an annoying pigeon- a pigeon which happens to have a small electrified prong sticking out of its chest.

Not enough to do much serious damage, but you know. It might numb up his arm for a few seconds maybe.]

[cowardley]

[ It's a disaster. Ashley hadn't been certain she'd seen him, not at first, but then the very odd cry of some bird catches her attention and he waits and then he moves, darting out like a very, very poorly trained stealth agent. ]

Uh, Rhys? [ She calls out after him as quietly as she can. ]

arya stark | open and closed

[whichend]

april 16: open.
[ It takes Arya longer than most to realize that something is going on in the city of Hadriel. Something wrong. Arya has always been guarded, slow to trust and prone to attack. But she's also observant, and by the evening of April sixteenth, it's impossible to ignore the murder in many of the resident's eyes. And if she needs any further proof, well, there's always the blood trickling out of alleyways every so often.

So Arya does what she always does when she's in danger: she disappears. Arya keeps to the back alleys, the shadows, a small, hooded figure in a large coat. She's armed to the teeth, with her sword and several concealed daggers. She moves quickly, talking to no one but watching everyone.

She has several little cloth bundles, as well. She'll visit the houses of her friends in the night, leaving the bundle on their doorstep. Inside is a dagger and a folded note, reading, in Arya's chicken scratch: just in case.

Maybe you notice the figure slipping past you. Maybe you decide to follow Arya, but be careful: coming too close will get you a dagger pressed to your throat. ]

april 20: closed to amos kamiya.
[ The city has never been as dangerous as it is now, and Arya knows one of the reasons why: Amos, the liar, the snake, the man of false smiles. Neither Arya nor the people she holds close will be safe while he lives, so Arya has spent the last few days trailing Amos, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. The Faceless Men taught her how to be an assassin, and it's sickeningly easy how well Arya slips back into being no one.

On April twentieth, Arya finds Amos in the woods. This, she knows, is her territory. She's spent more time here than anywhere else in Hadriel. Disregarding honor, disregarding everything but the task at hand, Arya springs out from behind a tree when Amos comes near, driving he sword straight at Amos' gut. ]

[liquid_serpent]

[Liquid was on edge as it seemed the whole city was right now. It was in the air. The cold malice and need to fight or to kill. It seemed everyone was out to get everyone else. Rage must be laughing herself silly right now. He snuck into an alley then felt someone brush past him quickly. He whirled around and half-expected the young girl to attack him.]

Watch where you are going, young lady.

Josh Washington | open & closed

[pighead]

[a: this is gonna be short, april 16, closed to axton]

[Just another day in Hadriel. Josh is minding his own business, strolling through the streets. He's a man on a mission, and that mission is to go to Delight's bar and see if he can steal or borrow a bottle of something, and if not then just to get a drink. And chat, maybe. He's not picky. He's got plenty of free time and nothing to do with it except wallow in his own issues and attempt to make a few friends.

He doesn't quite have a spring in his step, but he seems to be in a pretty good mood. Surely nothing could possibly go wrong, except for all of the things that already have.]

[b: second time's the charm, april 21, open]

[Well, he died and came back, and it's not the first time. It's the second - wait, maybe the third time? Did he die back home or did the others just think he did? Does metaphorical death count?

These are all important philosophical thoughts that Josh is currently having as he sits on a bench in the park. Strangely, he's not all that upset about dying or about being killed. It sort of feels fair, like maybe he was supposed to die. But he's back, and still stuck in the cave, and honestly it isn't all that different than it was back home. Well, it is, but blah blah metaphorical bullshit, depression and grief is like being trapped in a crazy murdercave, at least there's booze here and some cool people.

He's tired of his thoughts. They never go in directions that they should. Josh shrugs, stands up, and wanders toward whoever it is that he sees not far off.]

Hey. How's the murder stuff going?

[ichaer]

[ mediation was supposed to help. it could help relax you and your thought, help you to see the bigger picture but all she sees is the face of a boy that she had wished to kill. some boy only slightly younger than her, who she had never met before and she wanted to push her sword through his gut.

she knows it's wrong but it feels right and that's why she here, eyes closed and hands clenched into fists.

someone approaching is enough to get ciri's eyes open, looking upwards at the unfamiliar face and frowning. there's no murderous thoughts here and for that? she's grateful. these days have been long and her swords (sitting neatly at her side) feel heavier than normal. ]

I'd rather have to fight a hoard of rotfiends, honestly. [ which is to say, terrible. ]

Sharon da Silva | Closed + Open

[unitas]

▍▍▍▍APRIL 16TH | CITY | CLOSED TO NOAH

[ The fury had been nestled in her belly like she'd just downed a hot beverage without allowing it to cool. It was uncomfortable, an itch she couldn't get rid of. There was little doubting that it was Rage who decided to manipulate them next, but she couldn't quite discern the reasoning behind any of it. She was angry, sure, but it was subdued.

At least, it was subdued until she spots him. It's only a glance, sandy blonde hair, lanky body, but just that glance is enough to send that fury in her belly dancing wildly. It was more than simple anger, it was a craving, a need for violence.

Her breathing picks up, and she tries to swallow it back, but it wants out. He's done something horrible, and he has to pay for it. She follows after without much more thought to what she's about to do, or who she's about to do it to. ]

▍▍▍▍APRIL 15TH-23rd | ANYWHERE | OPEN

[ Sharon walks the winding paths, and streets of Hadriel. She does not appear to have any real purpose, but her eyes watch the people she comes across with a wariness, even to those with familiar, friendly faces. It's become increasingly clear that someone out there wants her dead, just as she has the itch to tear apart some kid she knows only in passing—he must be a member of the Order with how badly she wants to hurt him, though she knows, logically, that it's unlikely.

But that's how it feels.

Should she spot a person she feels isn't going to straight up murder her, she'll approach slowly, a look of concern growing on her features. ]

Hey, have you seen a teen about this tall [ she gestures above her slightly ] with sandy blonde hair? He's a friend of a friend, and he's run off after some crazy tried to kill him. I'm kind of worried he won't do well on his own.

[ She wants to hurt him so badly she has no issue lying to find him again. ]

Yeaaaah closed

[casperdisaster]

[Noah feels it too - that's the only way he knows something is going on at all, because Noah is generally not inclined to anger. Fear, absolutely. Hope, certainly. Delight, sure why not. But rage is such a foreign concept to him - all of his natural anger is only based out of fear exploding outwards, even.

So, feeling the unfamiliar roll of annoyance starting to build, the first thing to do is to go get supplies. Something is going on, and it'll be best to hide out at home during that time. Gotta be prepared first.

He spots Sharon as he's adjusting his bag on his shoulder, trying to think if he needs anything else before he heads back. He's talked to Sharon once or twice. She gave him the book.

He'll learn to be afraid of her soon enough. First though he waves, aborting the movement only partway through already completing it.

She does... not look happy...]

... S-sharon ...?

Gansey | 1 Closed 1 Open

[quaerit]

Closed to Tinker Bell - 21 April

[ After what happened with Blue, Gansey had to get out of the house. There was no choice. He couldn't stay there after she'd literally tried to kill him. He needed to clear his head, and despite knowing that there was danger on the streets, he went to them anyway. What could the harm of it be, after all? It wasn't as though he was safe in his own home.

In spite of that, though - in spite of all of that, Gansey isn't expecting to be affected himself. Violence isn't something he can imagine himself doing. It never has been, and never will be. His friends don't mind it in the same way, but to Gansey, it's always been a thing to avoid. He doesn't like violence, doesn't like fighting, doesn't like weapons being around him.

It means that when he sees her, he's unprepared. The girl is not one he knows, and he can't explain the sudden animosity. It churns in his stomach, starting the moment he sees her there in front of him. There's absolutely no good reason for it. ]

What is it you want? [ He snaps, despite the fact that she hasn't spoken to him. ] Get out of here, can't you. I didn't come here for you.

Open - Library

[ After Tinker Bell, he feels there's nowhere left to go. If Gansey had thought it felt bad to know he was being targeted by Blue, this was even worse. He'd thought himself immune from the touch of violence. As it turned out, he could not have been more wrong. He had looked at that girl, and he'd wanted to hurt her. He had genuinely wanted to do her damage, for no reason other than that she was in his sights. Even thinking of her now, he feels a taste of the same feeling.

It can't be natural. He knows that, implicitly. It's completely illogical for him to hate a stranger, especially in this way. He'd never wanted to enact violence on his worst enemies, and this girl had certainly done nothing to deserve it.

It leaves him feeling vulnerable in a way that even Blue's attack on him had not done. If he can be made to want something so opposite to him, anything is possible. Worse, he knows that if this is how he feels about a woman he's never met, it must be how Blue feels about him, and it's clear to him that this isn't something she'll be able to shake. Just being around her will trigger those feelings. Gansey had needed to get away from Tinker Bell just to feel sensible again.

How could he go home, under those conditions?

It's probably foolish to imagine he's safe in the library. He's not, really. Anyone could come upon him here. Blue wants to hurt him, but she may not be the only one. But what else can he do? Home is certainly not safe, and the streets, where Tinker Bell is, are no safer. Faced with that, Gansey does the only thing he can; he flees to the library, and buries his head in books. At least, he thinks, they'll distract him. He can't read them, but he can look, and thumb through the pictures. Anything to get his mind off what's happening. With shaking hands, he turns the pages, and tries to keep focused on this. ]

[trybelieving]

Excuse me?

[She doesn't understand how a man she's never met can assume she wants something from him; she doesn't. Tink was minding her business until he saw fit to speak to her, and speaking to her in that tone is unacceptable. She glares, arms folding against her chest, angry but too curious to walk away.]

What the hell's the matter with you?

[It can't be her, she doesn't know him and she hasn't done anything.]

fiona | open & closed

[bluffed]

open

[ Okay, so shit went down far quicker than she ever anticipated. People were stocking up - antagonizing each other in ways that... ah reminded her of home. There was a ruthlessness that she's tried to avoid, but things had a small... slow period.

Things were getting desperate and using precious ammo on her wrist-mounted gun was a stupid mistake. Out and about, among a small group of people, Fiona had been sly enough to pickpocket someone. The glisten of a blade was tempting enough - the switchblade a perfect weapon to add to an arsenal.

She hopes she never has to use it, honestly... but that's how life goes. If she needs to defend herself, she has to. Simple as that.

With a tip of her hat downward, the con artist had slipped away into a small crowd of people, truthfully believing her task had been unnoticed. Okay, it wasn't as bad as it seemed though! To be fair, she sorta knew the guy. He had a million different weapons, was he really going to miss a switchblade?

Nevertheless, she's seen acting a little suspicious, going as far as to pop her collar a little higher and adjust the cuff of her jacket. She keeps the blade hidden in the sleeve of her jacket, trying not to draw attention.

Maybe she'll go bug Rhys for a bite to eat... ]

closed to nick - after the open prompt

[ With her little place decked out in traps - you know, for precaution - it was... rather stupid that she goes out.

And stupid she will be, because she needs to find someone. It may be Rhys - or maybe Axton or Lilith. Whatever the case may be, she's hoping to meet up with someone, but there's a sudden bump in the road. She lies on with an innocent bystander - someone who she hasn't met or even had the need to talk to. They were faceless before, blending in with the poor smucks brought here... but now.

That face. It burns through her like a short-wick candle. They keep themselves busy - on a schedule it seemed. Moving along their daily business like nothing had been awry. Fiona's unusually more calculative as this bubbling ...rage boils. She can't explain it... but she needs to - confront this person? ]

Hey.

[ Fiona called out once the crowds and people dispersed and their trek was more isolated. Hands dug into her pockets, her shoulders were defensive. ]

Turn around.

[bekommen]

[Nick is, for the most part, unaware of what's happening in the city, that people have been caused to turn on each other in new but still familiarly shitty ways. Whatever. Just another day in Monstercave City, right?

She hears a voice she doesn't recognize, and it takes her a moment to realize she's the one being addressed. She slows her pace and turns back over her shoulder - there's someone following her, all right, and she glances around her to make sure there isn't someone else she could be talking to. No one. This woman's definitely trying to get her attention. Nick halts and turns around to face her.]

You talkin' to me? I mean, I guess you must be, 'cause ain't no one else around.

[She's not actually aiming for a Travis Bickle impersonation, but it's more or less there all the same. She crosses her arms over her chest, giving Fiona an appraising glance.]

What do you want?

vaiz || open

[dragonbite]

[ As usual, it's so pointless to make Vaiz effected by some feeling or the other. Because even if he feels rage (or immense other feelings) he just thinks that it is too much of a bother and he doesn't do anything about it. That is Ultimate Laziness, or something.

Though he does go out on a daily basis, at least for a few hours, even if he usually sleeps over half of the day away. But he needs to find anything sugar, and during his stroll he ends up by the edge of the lake, where he sits down and blows bubbles.

Have you ever seen a cluster as big as three bears float over the lake before? Because he's making more and more bubbles gather over the water, one by one, and in some of them there are fires burning, lighting up the air around the bubble cluster. ]