thebrownacid: (Default)
[personal profile] thebrownacid
[This is a casual rp starter for scenes with Jen Daring, the world's most harmless Malkavian Antitribu. It serves as a warmup spot for character ideas for the After Gehenna game.]

San Francisco was a fishing village now. Bay water lapped the bases of the surviving skyscrapers, so clear now you could see down to the shattered street. Some brave divers went for artifacts down there: jewelry, surviving tools, random items to decorate their chambers with and claim bragging rights just for surviving. An old hubcap could cost you your life now that the Farrallones and the Bay were wed in one stretch of water over the drowned city. Sharks--the main risk in the area and also the main livelihood. They might get a fisherman now and again, but most nights in the high village with its precarious catwalks, it was they who became dinner.

When the sun went down the fishing crews lowered ropes down the side of the buildings and hauled up the boats along with their catch. The hard, ugly end-of-the-day work was necessary, for one breed of shark hunted at night and could take out even the few old yachts they had left.

The grunts and creaks of the ropes and thunk and scrape of the rising boats were the first thing Jen heard when she woke that night. She opened the closet she was curled up in and spilled out, yawning hugely. The outer wall of the hotel room she was squatting in had shattered outward, and a huge, battle-scarred gray cat crouched among the bricks, messily dining on a pigeon the size of a football. He looked up at her with his one good eye and meowed conversationally.

Within half an hour they had both eaten, and Jen was sitting quietly on the edge of the cracked rooftop plaza of the hotel. Other villagers, human and otherwise, milled on the rooftop by torchlight, enjoying a barbecue out in the cool night air. The cat sat next to her, keeping watch. Jen was a little unfocused, distracted by the blobs of golden and royal blue light dancing through the air. She knew something was going to happen soon and she should be here for it, but not what.

Date: 2014-08-22 02:11 am (UTC)
ka_sera_sera: (old general listening windswept squint)
From: [personal profile] ka_sera_sera
Roland stands, leaving the rest of the weapons and watching Danica's radio. Waiting's almost over, it seems, which is just fine by him. Waiting's the worst part. He much prefers being shot at.

Date: 2014-08-22 02:21 am (UTC)
tookhishand: (Default)
From: [personal profile] tookhishand
He nods, no more talkative than Roland. It's their show, let them say what they need to among themselves.

Date: 2014-08-22 11:57 am (UTC)
ka_sera_sera: (old general listening headtilt)
From: [personal profile] ka_sera_sera
Roland, having stepped out of Jen's way a moment ago in case her gagging turned into something messier, thinks on this. "Does what you said about headshots still apply? Or would the eyes be the only major weak spots?" If he's lucky it won't be. That'd be a hell of a shot to have to make repeatedly, not that he doubts that he could, at least a good part of the time.

Being a stranger to this land is working in his favor, here - while he's concerned about the, ah, walking sharks, he's coming into this expecting anything, knowing of sharks only as vague, distant legends he used to hear about as a child. The rest of them, to whom all the creatures here are supposed to exist by certain rules, seem to be having a harder time accepting things. Roland isn't worried, either, that he and Donald are going to be useless - his aim is the same as it ever was, and Donald might be able to track who they're looking for even if he doesn't have anything that belonged to them to scent first.

Date: 2014-08-23 12:03 am (UTC)
tookhishand: (♥ 11)
From: [personal profile] tookhishand
Donald feels like he's getting further out of his depth. Shooting walking sharks with a pistol. Sure, that'll work. (Hint: no, it won't.)

Hasn't it been ten minutes yet? He's ready to move. Do something.

"Six of them and... how many sharks?"

Date: 2014-08-23 01:42 pm (UTC)
ka_sera_sera: (old general neckerchief headtilt)
From: [personal profile] ka_sera_sera
Roland follows, letting himself settle toward the back of the group rather than settling in the middle and being surrounded by all of them. It's not that he doesn't trust them, it's just- well, nope, he doesn't trust them. Enough to fight with them, which is something, but they are strangers. "Is this purely a rescue mission, or are we aiming to take them all out?" Very different strategies involved, there.

Date: 2014-08-24 12:44 am (UTC)
tookhishand: (Default)
From: [personal profile] tookhishand
He's copying Roland, hanging towards the back of the 'pack', though he relies more on reflexes than paranoia, and this doesn't smell like a trap.

"And how will we recognize the ones in need of rescue?"

Date: 2014-08-24 11:15 am (UTC)
ka_sera_sera: (old general headturned)
From: [personal profile] ka_sera_sera
'Tarzan' doesn't help, and neither do 'cutoffs'. Roland doesn't say so, though- if he sees a mostly-naked, dark skinned man near their enemy somewhere he'll just have to take an educated guess. Roland looks over the thing as they reach it, watching the others climb in before turning and offering a hand to Donald to help him follow.

Date: 2014-08-24 02:34 pm (UTC)
tookhishand: (♥ 44)
From: [personal profile] tookhishand
Why is he always the lady in the situation? He can't help being the shorter one, come on.

Into the boat goes the 'big wolfie'. No comment about Tarzan vampire beanie wienies. (It is funny, though, the rambling.)

Silence is golden. He hasn't spoken a word.

Date: 2014-08-25 12:17 am (UTC)
ka_sera_sera: (old bitchface side eye doubt)
From: [personal profile] ka_sera_sera
The rambling is hitting Roland much differently. Not amusing, but too strangely familiar to be an annoyance. Listening to it - or, rather, listening past it, because the knack of listening to the tone of such chatter without hearing the words never quite leaves you - is moving rusty memories of a couple people he hasn't thought of in a long time.

So probably he'd be too distracted to care much about her words even if he did understand them. He looks to Donald instead, eyebrows raised in a silent question: Did you get any of that? Or, more probably, Was any of it important?
Edited Date: 2014-08-25 12:17 am (UTC)

Date: 2014-08-25 01:31 am (UTC)
tookhishand: (Default)
From: [personal profile] tookhishand
Their own little private language. Isn't it cute?

He's not whispering, a whisper sometimes turns out to be louder than speaking normally and quietly. Very quietly. He's learned over time exactly how good Roland's hearing is.

"A sort of coma. They must have forced the one on our side into it. Hence him needing rescue."

Date: 2014-08-25 09:08 pm (UTC)
ka_sera_sera: (old general look up right)
From: [personal profile] ka_sera_sera
Roland stares at the chickens as they pass by. The chickens stare back. "However they put him into that coma, they may try the same on us" he says, watching the chickens slowly rise above the level of his head as the boat lowers. "Might be with drugs, or might be some version of mental control. Do you all know how to defend against that?"

Date: 2014-08-26 03:04 am (UTC)
tookhishand: (Default)
From: [personal profile] tookhishand
"It sounds to be a 'vampire' problem." he offers, a bit late and perhaps not so helpfully. It's only a guess. He hasn't so much as read Dracula, honestly. What does he know?

Date: 2014-08-26 03:33 am (UTC)
ka_sera_sera: (old general window background)
From: [personal profile] ka_sera_sera
Roland takes the hint. "Miss," he says to Jen, raising his eyebrows. "You may want to-" and here he takes hold of the rail in big, deliberate movements so she'll know what he's talking about. Then he twists around to check that Donald's done it too. Got to make sure all the little duckies are in rows like they ought to be.

Date: 2014-08-26 03:37 am (UTC)
tookhishand: (♥ 23)
From: [personal profile] tookhishand
Donald has, Roland. Please stop nagging with your stupid eyes and stupid face.

"If you do make them sleep, please not us too."

Does Jen have that much control while high, he wonders.

Date: 2014-08-26 04:20 am (UTC)
ka_sera_sera: (old drama shock with hat 1)
From: [personal profile] ka_sera_sera
Roland, of course, obeys. He does crane his neck to try and get a better look over the edge, though, looking quietly fascinated. The glow to the leader's eyes does get some attention too, but not nearly so much as the water around them. "Keep your mind closed and you should do well enough," he mutters to Donald, not quite looking away from the water. "One of them should remember us well enough to carry us back if her touch misfires."

Date: 2014-08-26 04:43 am (UTC)
tookhishand: (♥ 45)
From: [personal profile] tookhishand
"My mind is always closed. It's stuck that way." Too deep of a habit to break after his life depended on it so many years. He's hunched down far as he can be, posture hinting he's not fond of boats and water. Everyone has their weaknesses.

Date: 2014-08-27 07:15 pm (UTC)
ka_sera_sera: (old  general sidelong windswept squint)
From: [personal profile] ka_sera_sera
Probably a good thing, Roland realizes, that the girl has companions like these. Power like that, coupled with the kind of mind she seems to have, can be dangerous even when used with good intentions. While she pouts about not being able to tear open his friend's mind Roland looks around some more, peering at the water again and then at Donald to see how he's coping with the increase in speed.

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Jen Daring

August 2014

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