hadriel_logs | Event Log: Assassin

||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?"

Edited 2016-04-16 16:55 (UTC)

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.

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?

Edited 2016-04-16 19:32 (UTC)

[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?

Edited 2016-04-16 20:13 (UTC)

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!!!

Edited 2016-04-17 07:14 (UTC)

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.

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!"

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.

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.

[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.]

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. ]

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."

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!

Edited 2016-04-18 12:15 (UTC)

▍▍▍▍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. ]

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.]

[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.]

❚❚❚❚❚ 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. ]

Edited 2016-04-20 19:17 (UTC)

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
[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.]

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. ]

[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?

▍▍▍▍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. ]

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. ]

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.

[ 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. ]

BLU Scout || 2 Closed and 1 Open

Glacius | Park, 20th | Closed

Emily - a handful of murderous starters