PRISON WORLD #1: Spidermarvel (tw violence, harassment, discrimination)

[spoofer]

Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: F.A.T.E.S. has alerted the population of Xistentia that the enemy has created something new, a Prison World where others refugees of the Multiverse are being brainwashed into destroying each other.
Date(s): July 29-August 5
Warnings/Notes: None, please mark your subject headers with content.

SPIDERMARVEL PRISON WORLD

She was really nice and bought me a churro.

PRISON WORLD: SPIDERMARVEL

It's New York City in 2017, and Enhanced humans came into public perception after the great Battle against alien invaders 5 years ago. Unlike the Hulk or Thor, rumor has it that most of the Enhanced superpowers in New York developed because of ambient radiation-- hard to say whether that was from the alien weapons, or the nuclear bomb that other humans themselves sent to try to level the city. There's blame to go around. People still find Chitauri tech littered about the city. However, for most of the residents, life hasn't changed much; the trains still run on time (or not), the grocery store still carry your favorite brand of cup noodles (or not), and you still have to bring your boss that coffee (or face their wrath). Mandatory Enhanced Registration has begun to cause friction at work and school, murmurs of dissent. Now and then, an Enhanced loses control-- such as the unknown individual who exploded all the windows in Grand Central Station the other year. Or you see news stories of Enhanced being harassed by people wielding incredible weapons, from forcefield generators to tractor beams. Burglars and pranksters seem to have gotten their hands on this technology as well.

In another life, you might have been once an orcish princess or a steampunk scientist, but these days, you're someone different. The new identity and the new body fit you like a glove. You know your friends and your prospects same as you know your own life.

Pax Sanctum Club

There's one place in New York City where Enhanced and purported allies can be out and about in peace: a speakeasy named Pax Sanctum. It sounds like some hippie shit, but inside, you have green ambient light, sleek white bar, bottles of every liquor type you could want. Rumors vary about peace enforcement here. Some say there's an empath scanning the place constantly, others that there's someone who can manipulate time itself. Older patrons know that the location has moved twice in the past three years, without incident, but no doubt with good reason. Regardless, the bouncers descend quickly whenever a conflict seems to get heated.

And it so rarely does. The ambience is light and sexy. Now and then, you'll find a pyrokinetic showing off lighter fingers to an impressed crowd or an animated debate about current events compared to historical parallels. One level down the stairs, there's even a dancefloor where you will occasionally find dance battles between equally uncoordinated Enhanced and non-Enhanced. It feels like the kind of place where you can let your guard down.

The week's password is Arachnid— there's a Spiderman fan in management somewhere, evidently. Tell the bouncer behind the big metal door.

The Explosion

At 11:42PM on Wednesday, August 2, an explosion rocks the club.

Boom! Glass explodes, people hit the floor. The origin seems to be the dance space at LG 2. An electrical fire erupts immediately, filling the air with a thick, cloying smoke. It's not clear whether the attack was from an Enhanced or a non-Enhanced-- but the fear instantly kindles. People of both kind scramble to form groups of their own, and fight for the two exits. Soon, the sirens of police and fire services begin to echo in the distance, promising interrogations for those who linger. How many people here are un-Registered? And say, didn't you see someone acting a little suspicious right before the blast? Is that them there? And what will you do, when you come across someone bleeding?

Or better yet, when the first punch is thrown, by a couple of angry, drunken survivors right outside there in the nightclub's back alley?

After the explosion, what started as a single incident of violence sends ripples throughout the social fabric of New York City in the weeks after. Police report that the rates of Chitauri-influenced weapons on the street doubles, and even mundane weapons are being bought off the black market at even greater rates than that. Further, every day the news seems to sensationalize stories of stressed Enhanced losing control of their powers... and the Mayor is beginning to make examples out of them, with harsher sentences, rushed proceedings. Whether or not you're Enhanced, the streets are a dangerous place to roam.

NEW CHARACTERS: SAVE ME

Maybe you know that someone's been watching you for days, even weeks. Maybe you noticed— this person you may have known forever, but started acting a little oddly just a few days. Maybe you figured it was sickness or stress, especially after the August 2 explosion. Even people who didn't care about politics at all are starting to take notice now, choosing sides, storing up water... even weapons, the likes of which mankind had never seen before the era of the Chitauri and Enhanced. But this is when it happens: when someone comes to you and offers you the device, the innocent-looking cellular phone, that will change your whole identity.

Or maybe you just stumble upon it yourself. Seemingly a lost phone, a free phone, sitting out innocuous.

Daemon Activate

You pick it up, and immediately, your mind begins to morph inside your skull, disorienting. Your body doesn't change, but you remember who you are. The phone screen lights up, then unexpectedly projects holographic text into the air in front of your face: Activate Portal to Xistentia?^[1]

Unfinished Business

You pick No. Not right now.

Your mind is flooded with memories of your past, your true homeworld. Your true identity crashes into the false memories that this world brainwashed into you, disorienting, heavy; rapidly, your life here begins to feel like a dream. Luckily, you don't forget the helpful details of passing as a native. Nonetheless, the revelation probably comes at a bad time; in the middle of your workday or on the bus, somewhere public, where people are here to see you... as well as the daemon that's now trying to give you a whole infodump about Xistentia and the battle between F.A.T.E.S. and D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. It might be a good time to find somewhere private to go and get that portal out.

Or maybe you're staying because you have unfinished business in this world. Friends or even enemies who might also need to be awakened and helped. Luckily, your cellphone-- or daemon— tells you that there are others in this world on a similar mission from Xistentia. Maybe you can contact them through your daemon.

Escape to Xistentia

You pick Yes.

A portal of glowing light opens in front of you, smelling of ozone, churning with atmosphere. Step through, and you immediately find yourself with the unsettling yet painless sensation of being pulled through space and time. The very molecules of your body supercharge and come apart, shot through the multiverse, and come out on the other side arranged back in your original configuration.

You land facedown on a sandy beach. Your daemon is still with you, but chances are, it no longer looks like a reassuringly ordinary cellphone. It tells you:

"The date is August 12, 2017, F.A.T.E.S. Standard Time. Local Population: 333. Welcome to Xistentia. The city is due East."

OLDER CHARACTERS: RESEARCH & RESCUE

One minute, you were in Xistentia, a refugee from your dying world. Charged with studying D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. the enemy of the entire Multiverse or rescuing others from its clutches. You're lying on a stone table, some kind of magic machine in the Telexistence Temple, surrounded by other people from a variety of worlds, all of them anticipating the same unknowns as you are.

The Moment of Lucidity

The next minute, you're a resident of New York City, totally immersed in your new identity; strangely fixated on keeping your cellphone in hand, but there's nothing strange about that in 2017. For a few days, you were part of this world, completely convinced of a life as rich as your original.

And this is the moment you're back. Suddenly you remember everything, lucidity hitting you like a thunderbolt. You suddenly realize your memories were false, your diet, perhaps even the shape of your body. It's deeply disorienting, and it probably throws you off in the middle of whatever you're doing, whether it's filling a takeaway cup with soda or delivering a speech to a packed auditorium. Suddenly, the false identity you were given sinks into the background; you can still remember enough details to fake it (and maybe take it), but you know who you are.

Hopefully no one here will notice you literally just lost your mind.

Do Your Research

The research part of the mission turns out to be pretty easy! All you need to do is carry your cellphone around wherever you go. You're easily mistaken for someone playing Pokemon! Go or texting avidly wherever you walk. The screen shows you nothing but code gibberish, with the occasional flicker when you're near someone else from Xistentia or an awakened person. It's a good excuse to get out and about.

And maybe also an accidental cause of getting in trouble. After all, whether or not you're a part of it, there is a war brewing between two groups of people, and many of those who haven't taken a side are nonetheless on-guard for danger at any given time. You're as likely to come across verbal harassment as violent revenge, or someone using advanced Chitauri-influenced weapons to knock over a liquor store or throw their weight around.

Rescue Rangers

If you visited this world the week before, in wraith mode^[2], you've recovered those memories too. It might help you recall some of those who now need rescuing.

Or maybe you're going at it blind. In any case, you equipped with a pre-activated daemon in hand, as well as you're own. Your duty now is to find world-hopping refugees that D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. has trapped here, and match the naive device to its new owner with some form of consent-- whether by trick or explanation. How hard can it be? It's 2017. Everyone needs a cellphone.

Small complication: the entire city is fraught with war and paranoia. And maybe the naive daemon in your hand keeps blinking at you signals that ID someone on the wrong side...

Get Home

Your daemon will show you the way home. And dump you on back on a familiar beach amid a screaming chaos. You're welcome!

Footnotes

1. Daemon will take/resume its true form in Xistentia, as soon as the character lands on the beach.
   
   
2. Wraith mode refers to existing characters who had played in the TDM, able to be seen and heard only by the other refugees.
   
   
3. Updated plotting thread for new characters is here.
   
   
4. OOC plot post is here. IC network infodump for existing characters is here.

Comments

alec lightwood-bane, ota

[helical]

— IMMERSION / THE EXPLOSION —

ONE
[ on the first day of his arrival in the prison world, alec is completely immersed. he goes for a walk in the park during his lunch break, having spent most of the morning doing paperwork, creating "oversights" for cases of enhanced having been victims of prejudice from fellow officers and downing cup of coffee after cup of coffee.

he wanders aimlessly a bit, buying a pretzel before taking a seat at his favorite bench. he leaves the water bottle he bought next to him, keeping his eyes on his surroundings as he eats. his mind is racing with thoughts about the current tensions, worry gnawing at him.

okay. it's lunch break. it's time to eat and relax, not worry and fret about the state of things, about what they'll do if his husband has to register, about this idea he's had of simply taking off to live on an island somewhere. he doesn't notice anyone approach, spaced out, chewing on his pretzel and not realizing someone might want to take a seat where his bottle currently resides. ]

TWO
[ it's tense, being a police officer in this climate when you're anti-registration, when you want to keep everyone safe, when you see your kind turn against another out of fear. rather than dwell no the helpless feelings that overcome him over the news, alec helps in the most direct ways he can.

like looking the other way if he encounters an unregistered enhanced. like showing up first at an incident at a club he knows enhanced return to as a safe place to give the ones who need to escape the law a little longer by giving them the chance to do so. ]

Hey, you okay? [ he's checking up on as many people as he can, approaching anyone looking on edge cautiously. he's not afraid of being hurt, but afraid of someone else hurting themselves or others in their fear, in their attempt to run from him. he wants to signal that he won't hurt them, that he's on their side.

he looks around, trying to see through the increasing smoke and the panicked crowd. ] I'm gonna get you out of here.

— MEMORY RETURNS / SEARCH AND RESCUE —

THREE
[ alec lightwood-bane had not planned on starting his day by spilling boiling hot coffee all over the front of his shirt.

but neither had he planned to be overcome by a life time of memories returning to him all at once. the coffee burns but for a moment all he can do is dumbly hold his empty cup in his hand and squeeze his eyes shut, breathing in sharply and using everything in his power not to collapse onto the ground.

when he opens his eyes, he's aware of how vital it is for him to remain undercover a little while longer. his mission is now in focus, and it's not dissimilar to the one he'd self ascribed.

find the people in danger and get them to safety. ]

Dammit, sorry, I — I'm okay. [ he says, covering up, pinching the bridge of his nose and then reaching to pinch at his shirt and pull it from his now scalded chest. ]

FOUR
[ the phone in his hand seems to be growing hot, pinging with the presence of it's rightful owner. he's trying not to look too obviously like he's looking for someone specific, although it's difficult for him to melt into the crowd wearing his uniform. still, he doesn't want to spook this person, not knowing how confused they are, if they remember their true memories, if he's going to have to fight them off if they're a scared person believing themselves to be an enhanced from this world.

he hopes they remember who they truly are. he's not sure how he can help them regain their memory when he doesn't know them, but hopefully the daemon can do that for him. ]

I'm here to help, [ he calls out, in case the person he's tracking is hiding. not the most trust worthy thing, but it might give them enough pause that he can catch up with them. ]

— CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE —

[ either prompt me with a starter or hit me up at midworld or charlie#5771 @ discord. ]

taking explosion liberties!

[disbands]

LB! [They call him that, the other cops. Hyphenated last names are kind of a pain to call out when you are trying to sound like a bro. Right now, Alec is being addressed by Miller, one of the men he used to do the swing shift with, a couple years back-- they earned their way up together. And maybe that's why he's the one calling out to Alec now, despite the fact that the Enhanced he's wrangling is giving him trouble.

Specifically, it's the fact that the Enhanced he's wrangling is giving him trouble without meaning to.]

I don't bloody know, [says Barclay. His glasses are skew-whiff on his nose, sitting at a crazy angle. His brown hair is sticking up and several buttons are missing off his oxford shirt. He looks like a deranged professor, rather than someone who just survived a bombing-- but the issue isn't the fact that he was dressed a bit silly for the Pax club. The issue right now is the fact that Barclay can't seem to keep his hands in the handcuffs. They keep... melting, or rather, liquefying into clear water, running transparently all over, while somehow retaining their shape in shimmering waterform.

It's terrifying him.] I don't know how to stop it, [he says, his voice growing louder.] Bloody Hell, man. I've got a Green Card, I didn't ask for any of this bloody powered nonsense, I was here with a friend—

[He shouldn't have come. He knows that now. He isn't looking at Alec, all his attention on Miller behind him.]

post-explosion

[remarkablymodest]

[ Though not a police officer, it's to be expected that Aymeric would make an appearance following the attack. It's his job to be present for any large-scale events, good or bad, like this that happen where Enhanced involved. He's their advocate, after all. A man fighting for their rights to remain unregistered, to be 'free' to walk amongst normal people at their discretion. Perhaps many aren't happy to see a politician hovering about a crime scene, but Aymeric hopes he provides some relief to the distressed Enhanced this evening. ]

Mr. Lightwood-Bane, [ he starts, once Alec is done with the person he'd been talking to and ensuring they're alright. His tone is professional but still personable. He's good at that. His pragmatic nature is what he's known for, one of the few things that made him so popular as a politician in the first place. ]

Do you have any details yet on exactly what happened? What - or who - caused the explosion?

[ If an Enhanced, well. He's going to have a lot of work to do. ]

1

[estrayer]

[ That bottle is snagged by a familiar hand, which swipes it so that Jace can drop down beside his brother. It used to be they'd be on this beat together, partners as well as brothers. Now, the Force is a memory for Jace. He'd wanted Alec to come with him when he left, but they'd never seen eye to eye about Valentine's ideas. Or his methods. Jace had accepted that. In truth, he'd believed Alec would come around in time. It hasn't happened yet, but he thinks it will. Eventually. ]

Busy day?

[ By way of greeting. Jace is more tense than he really ought to be with Alec. It's not that he's anticipating a fight, exactly, but he's not expecting it'll be as easy as it used to be. ]

I saw you getting lunch. Here.

[ He holds out the water bottle. This part, at least, is almost like old times. ]

two

[astralera]

[ Era tenses as she catches the attention of the unknown officer, though she relaxes as he makes his declaration even as it annoys her. She shakes her head. ]

I'll stay. [ A step nearer to an injured young man, gauging his wounds with a glance before returning her attention to the officer. ] I'm a paramedic.

Aric Dominija | OTA

[deathstouch]

A. Immersion

[ There's nothing particularly unique about Aric Dominija. A tycoon and secretly throwing money towards the causes he sees fits (mostly whatever pro-enhanced human organization currently caught his fancy). He's an observer, though, not particularly getting involved directly.

Most of his time if not spent in his office is spent in bars heavily drinking with his cell phone glued to his hand and watching the screen. He's more than likely to run into someone drunk and curse under his breath before mumbling an insincere: ] Sorry

B. Back to Reality (oops there goes gravity)

[ It all felt real, the business tycoon, the rather alcoholic whims and the knowledge of an empty penthouse to return to but as a shot of whiskey goes down his throat with a subtle burn it all suddenly snaps into place. All the memories are rushing back in an unwanted flood and he coughs and nearly chokes on what remained of the shot.

The bartender gives him a look and Aric holds up a hand and shakes his head because someone talking to him is the least of what he wants at the moment.

After taking a moment to recollect himself, he grips his daemon firmer though the form is strange and not what he's become used to -- Alized wouldn't normally fit in his hand and he finds he misses the comfort of it's actual form despite it all.

But he makes quick haste to get out of the bar and it's back to the original mission of being here.

He's not inclined to interact with anyone but if someone needs help he probably wouldn't leave them hanging -- with a few exceptions perhaps. ]

C. Wildcard

[ Hit me up with whatever. Feel free to PM this journal or PP poetanarchy if you want to discuss something. ]

a;

[remarkablymodest]

Ah, no, my apologies, [ Aymeric is quick to respond. He stumbles a little at the contact, but thankfully doesn't drop his coffee. Yes, he's drinking coffee at like ten o'clock at night, leave him alone. He's got a long night ahead of him and was just compiling a few notes at this bar before heading back to the office.

He's about to dismiss the encounter as nothing more than what it is, but then- Recognition dawns on his face. ]

-Ah! Mr. Dominija, hello. Fancy meeting you here. I meant to go to your office earlier in the week to personally thank you for your donation to our campaign, but looks like I'll have the chance to now.

thom creed; ota

[sanator]

a. pax sanctum - pre-explosion

[Thom probably shouldn't be in a club at his age but these days in New York City a domino mask and a flashy power got you places and he'd been frequenting Pax Sanctum since as long as he became a hero. It was a peaceful joint after all and Thom happened to be a fan of places where a lot of Enhanced and supporters frequented because he liked the company without having to worry about what other people might think. People were more than happy to forget the fact you were only seventeen if you looked like you might save the world one day.

He was also a little too flashy with his powers while he was there, sure you could always see people doing stuff with their powers that seemed completely unnecessary and Thom was no exception. Right now he was sitting at the edge of the bar, looking the picture of confidence as little sunbeams danced over his skin. Unlike the destructive capabilities of controlling sunlight, this was something else, making the blond kid look almost angelic as he directs one towards you, grabbing your attention with a smile.] So... you come here often? [This identity of his was completely ridiculous and needed to be fixed as soon as possible.]

b. rising tensions

[In the wake of the explosion life in New York had become a little more challenging for Thom. He'd spent such a long time making no secret of his Enhanced identity which meant that once the tensions in the city started to fray things for him got difficult. He'd been on his way home for school, having left the mask at home for today because he didn't need that level of attention, when he first twigged on that he was being followed. At first he thought it was maybe a couple kids from school, after all he hadn't kept it secret who he was from everyone but even that was worrying enough.

Ducking into an alleyway Thom briefly thought about running or using his powers to make some kind of escape, which was the exact moment the brickwork above his head exploded, blasted apart by Chitauri weaponry. He snapped his head backwards to the strangers, clearly not high schoolers, but someone had tipped them off to who he was, which meant he was in trouble.

He looked to the other end of the alleway which is when he sees you and instantly yells out.] Hey, you! Cover your eyes! [And with that Thom's skin seems to light up, a blast of sunlight coming out of him that turned him both into a beacon while acting as a flashbang as he ran to the other end of the alley way towards the stranger; hoping to god they were more ally than foe. After all, the tensions were high but he really wasn't comfortable with attacking humans with a power as volatile as his own.]

c. escape to xistentia

[Everything came flooding back to Thom in a rush, his own identity that hadn't been warped by D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. coming back to the forefront in his mind in a way that left him feeling he'd been slapped. It was almost laughable really that the personality he'd been running around with recently was so aspirational, it was what Thom had always wanted to be, it was what he'd looked up to. The idea of that calibre of superhero, a man like uberman... but it wasn't Thom and the more he thought about his time in this alternate New York the more he saw that whole persona as fake. Never mind that it was brainwashing but even the idea was just so false.

When the device in front of him prompted an escape? Thom jumped at the chance. The portal of light opening in front of him felt like a welcome mat as he stepped through, feeling himself torn apart and rearranged back into something more familiar, the strange power he'd been given being replaced with his own powers. It felt right and more importantly it felt normal.

Until, of course, he wakes up on a beach and the old nervous energy that'd been absent on the prison world came flooding back. It was a relief when he looked around the beach and found himself with company on the beach, someone else standing there as Justiced climbs up to settle on his shoulder, pointing east in the direction of the city.] H-hey... [He approaches the stranger, trying to look friendly.] Are you heading my way? [And Thom's a loser again, thank god.]

d. wildcard

[Anything else you might want with Thom? Feel free to hit me up either within the world of Xistentia or on the prison world! For plotting purposes feel free to: PM / razrushost / Discord: Razrushost#8963 ]

b;

[remarkablymodest]

[ This is going to be a PR nightmare.

That's about all Aymeric can think of soon as the attack happens. While the last thing Thom probably needed hovering around was a politician, he was at least a familiar face to most of the Enhanced. An advocate for their rights to remain unregistered. It isn't pure coincidence that he happens to be present when an attack strikes. Tensions were high and they'd been tipped off to a group of youths with Chitauri weapons looking to stir up trouble. Even though it's where he wanted to be, it's not at all where a lanky lobbyist should be in this particular moment. ]

What are you-? [ He doesn't get to finish before he's suddenly blinded by sunlight, giving an unflattering squawk as his hands go up to cover his face. Blue blink away the spots left by the unexpected brightness only to see Thom bounding up. ]

I suppose that's one way to make an exit.

b; also taking liberties that our tdm is canon? lmk if it doesn't work

[bangitybang]

[janus had stopped for a smoke and to piss in the alleyway.

in any other universe, either idea would be repugnant. but in this one, the sounds if chitauri weapons discharge at distance is mildly interesting, and peeing is a necessity that overrules politeness. the temple of their body— isn't, so much. more than half the men that janus works with smoke. the ones who don't, quit because of their wives. it's the fucking culture, although granted, they think about cutting back sometimes because they don't like the idea of having a crutch. also, it gets mixed in with hangovers. they almost cigarette burned their dong by accident just now.

it's fine. and now there's a kid with a mask careening toward them. and stranger, they know him.]

Tommy Tom, [they say. it's been a year, but you don't forget. janus stands up, pushing off the side of their car.] What the ffff--

[crack,

that's purple alien weapon lightning raking the air. bigots in pursuit. specifically, not bigots who've put janus on the job. janus yanks both doors open on the side of the car they're on, slamming themself down into the driver's seat, jerking their head expectantly. get in.]

Blue Sargent ( OTA )

[amplifyings]

" Moonshine, good time; babe, you’re in luck "
( Pax Sanctum - Pre-explosion )

[ There are very few places in New York City that are considered to be safe spaces for the Enhanced population. Some places require that they show proof of their registration, and some completely deny entrance to Enhanced altogether -- and to a purposely unregistered Blue Sargent, those might as well be the same. Pax Sanctum, however, is one of the few where the Enhanced and their supporters can exist openly and without fear.

A secret location with a secret passcode needed for entrance, it's practically nonexistent unless you're in the know.

(And Blue makes it her mission to be in the know when it comes to anything involving her fellow Enhanced individuals.)

Maybe you spot the somewhat oddly dressed girl at the bar, sipping something fruity and brightly colored. Or maybe somewhere out on the dance floor, grooving along to a playlist of remixed top 100 hits. Or perhaps you recognize the simple tattooed symbol just above her wrists -- the same ones that are often associated with what the media calls “ acts of Enhanced gang vandalism.” -- she's always looking for new recruits willing to fight for the cause.

Just be careful about touching her, you might be in for a surprise. ]

" Boy, if you’re gonna shoot me down do it gently "
( Pax Sanctum - Explosion )

[ It's all fun and games until something explodes.

The blast rocks the entire club, fire alarms wail inside at an earsplitting volume and pandemonium immediately ensues. Some people hit the ground and stay down, others make a mad dash for each and every exit -- screams and shouts adding to the cacophony that fills the club.

Blue is somewhere on the upper level when the blast takes place -- chatting, drinking and enjoying the comforts of a place that's usually safe for her kind -- but she bolts for one of the exits as soon as she hears sirens beginning to close in on the location. She's unregistered, and while usually that's something she'd boast about proudly, she knows that in a situation like this it's dangerous -- others like her have been hauled off to God knows where because of something as simple as jaywalking while unregistered.

But with so many people doing the very same, the exits are all but blocked, bodies crammed against one another with only very few people actually making it outside -- and despite how much she might need to get out, Blue isn't trying to almost kill anyone in the process.

So, rather than trying to shove her way through the mass of people without making any physical contact with them at all, she ducks into a bathroom her voice tight with panic as she whispers to herself: ]

Shit shit shit. I am so fucked.

[ Perhaps she should have splurged on one of those counterfeit registration cards. ]

" The world is beautiful, so why don’t you feel anything? "
( Around the city - Pre-returning memories )

[ Blue navigates New York easily, she rides the train from borough to borough without hardly batting an eye -- she spends her evenings in between Brooklyn and Manhattan and her days between Queens and the Bronx. She keeps an ear to the ground; listening for talk of anti-enhanced sentiments, scoping out the locations where the more outspoken types are usually found, searching for hidden alcoves where her fellow Enhanced have found relative safety and attempting to convince them to join her cause. Always recruiting.

(And what's her cause exactly? Dismantling the groups of Non-Enhanced that seem to think she poses some kind of threat by simply existing.)

Aside from her peculiar style of dress -- typically consisting of various pieces of clothing sewn together, despite their differences in pattern, color, or fabric type -- she looks fairly normal. Like your typical millennial, maybe even some kind of Instagram street fashion model. The only things to give away her “Enhanced status” are the various pairs of half gloves that she wears constantly, and her extreme aversion to any sort of physical contact.

(Which, honestly don't give her away as much as they just make her seem a little... Weird. But, hey, it’s New York, right? It’s probably not even the weirdest thing you’ve seen all day.) ]

" Just because I’m present don’t mean I forgot about you back home "
( Around the city - Memories returning. )

[ It’s an otherwise normal day in the city for Blue Sargent, attending an impromptu rally in downtown Manhattan protesting one of many businesses that refuse to provide service to any Enhanced individuals. These kinds of protests start off peaceful, perhaps a few hundred people all armed with homemade pasteboard signs that express their disdain -- some, admittedly wittier than others, but the message is all the same: everyone who is now considered to be enhanced simply want the same rights that they had before -- but it always seems that before long all hell breaks loose.

Sometimes it’s planned, a gang that’s similar to Blue’s purposely causing a scene and wreaking havoc in retaliation. Sometimes it’s as simple as another Enhanced accidentally losing control -- something that’s been known to happen, not everyone seems to have a full grasp on their abilities. But the authorities always show, force is always used and people just like her are always taken away in handcuffs. Some of which have been specifically designed to neutralize any powers an Enhanced might have.

(And the recent appearance of this kind of tech definitely has Blue suspicious. Especially when none of it seems to be from this planet.)

It’s while the rally is still in its peaceful stages that she notices it: a small burner phone right between her feet, the screen flashing with a notification of a new message. She certainly doesn’t remember it being there a few moments before, and considering she doesn’t own a cell phone herself, she’s 100% certain that it doesn’t belong to her.

Someone must have dropped it. Perhaps the person standing in front of her, or one of the many people who had passed by in an effort to get through the crowd and on with their day.

And so, with one of her gloved hands, she reaches to tap the shoulder of the person in front of her as he bends down to pick up the phone. ]

Excuse me, I think…

[ Her sentence stops abruptly, the moment that she touches the phone, there’s a flood of memories returning to her -- all of them seeming to be her own -- and she stumbles back a few steps, looking clearly shaken by what’s just happened to her. ]

wildcard

[ Open to anything and everything! Leave a start or ping unnideulif you’d like to discuss something different/more specific. I will happily write up starters for anyone that wants them. ]

around the city;

[remarkablymodest]

Excuse me, Miss, are these men bothering you?

[ It's an innocent enough question, coming from a face she might recognize from television. He's on the news a lot these days; the left-wing politician, staunchly for the rights of the Enhanced and fighting against most of big government on it. He stands taller than the cameras make him look - a lofty six feet, eight inches - but doesn't really give off an intimidating air.

Yet. ]

I can see to it that they are escorted off the premises, if you wish. [ What he seems to be failing to realize is that Blue was likely the one to start the confrontation, looking out for anti-Enhanced rhetoric as she was. Still. He's just trying to be helpful. ]

wildcardish/before the memories; (including john!!)

[pillz]

[dramatic irony is when

you have the shitty little enhanced outnumbered, three to one. in an alleyway. it's even fucking sunset, drenching the sky in blood red light, the street lights just beginning to come on sinister-like, in a row, and the windows of the homes above are tightly shuttered by people who know better than to fuck around. you and your crew are wielding the latest tech. kavinsky himself favors this one like a whip that shifts gravity. he's been practicing. it's hilariously kinky and kind of makes him feel like indiana jones. the enhanced is like-- sixteen, maybe, and mostly it's just funny to see if he's gonna pee.

but dramatic irony is when the kid says instead,] Look behind you,

[and then you do

and then there's a dwarf-sized asian girl leading a ragtag band of seven? eight?, and before you can get out a k-pop one-liner or count them, the one on her left throws some kinda shockwave. knocks your boys flat on their asses.

they don't have weapons.] Uh, [kavinsky says.] Look. I never dealed in fucking growth hormone pills before, but I could probably figure it out. [he doesn't put down his whip.]

rosie-dear; ota

[hasitsthorns]

Every time the moon shines, I become alive
(immersion - pax sanctum club - pre-explosion)

[ Looking like she fits right into the sexy aspect of the atmosphere, a woman in rocker attire loiters around the bar. Ripped jeans, a black crop top, and eyeliner wings so sharp they could stab a man. Her golden hair is large, kinky, curly and has a singular rosy pink streak running through it. Her smile lights up the entire room when she laughs. While she's sans drink at the moment, that will likely change. Rose hardly goes empty if she can help it.

This all seems to be practiced. Practically routine. She's a regular, if the friendly greetings from several patrons are any indication. People here know her and she seemingly thrives off the excess of attention. But it doesn't take long for her sights to fall on someone in particular. It never does. This, too, is just routine for anyone that's been here long enough to know her usual song and dance. ]

Hey there, [ she greets, cassssuuuallllyyyy sliding up next to whoever's caught her eye. ] I'm Rose. Nice to meet you.

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide nothin's right
(immersion - pax sanctum club - post-explosion)

[ She's movin' to the groovin', having a good time, possibly dancing up on someone and then-

Everything explodes. No, literally. Rose feels the unsettling rumble first then suddenly the aftershock hits her strong. It's pandemonium, all at once, but she's not fleeing with everyone at first. Instead, she focuses her efforts and making sure the people that might have a harder time escaping (maybe they've had too much, maybe they were closer to the explosion and disoriented, whatever the case may be). It isn't long before she's making her way outside; despite the smoke burning her lungs, she starts to sing in a raspy voice a soothing melody on her way, ]

And if all the flowers faded away and if all the storm clouds decided to stay, then you would find me each hour the same. 'Cause she is tomorrow and I am today; 'Cause if right is leaving, I'd rather be wrong. 'Cause she is the sunlight, the sun is gone.

[ Anyone close by will start to feel their panic due to the situation subside. They will feel suspiciously soothed. One can either allow this influence of her powers to take hold or they can fight against it, knowing that it's an artificial calm. Rose can likely be identified easily as the source, the only woman lingering who is also singing at a time like this. It might be risky as an Unregistered, but she can't stand idly by and do nothing either.

The police definitely aren't helping lower tensions in this moment. She won't exactly hide her disdain for the authority figures hanging around should they approach. ]

I'm feeling stronger, more alert, I'm on the move
(memories returned)

[ It happens whilst in the middle of composing a melody at the heart of central park. Her guitar makes an awful thwang - ruining the recording she was working on - as she hits the chord so hard it causes a string to snap. Then, unexpectedly, ]

What the absolute fuck, [ she shouts. A passing jogger raises an eyebrow at the woman, but continues on his path. Weirdo. Rose is now looking at the world around her like its suddenly brand new. It actually is, in a sense. A flurry of thoughts whirl around in her head: Where's Vanyel? Where are her dogs? Is she wearing... leather? What in the world is happening?! She swiftly realizes she's in possession of another phone, remembers her mission, she remembers.

The blond packs up and marches to find the owner of the phone immediately. Hopefully, if she runs into anyone she 'knows' she can fake it well enough. She's a pretty good liar, she's god this. Totally. ]

The one to come and free me from this fate
(wildcard)

(( Have any other ideas for something not listed? Hit me with anything you want or plot with me at puddingandpie! ))

clary fray | shadowhunters

[creatio]

a. ota

( By day, unassuming artist. By night, protector of New York City.

You wouldn't think it if you saw her, small and sweet, currently sitting cross legged on a bench in Central Park, sketchbook spread across her lap and her pencil sliding carefully over the paper. You wouldn't look at her and think she was anything but a young girl quietly drawing the old couple having a picnic across from her. That's exactly what she wants. Because she's not drawing them exactly, but the man further behind. He's lurking by a tree, practically out of sight, jacket bulging with a file she knows has the names of suspected Enhanced. She has it on good authority he's one of Valentine's men, a vigilante with a mean streak a mile wide.

Part of her wants to approach him now, wants to slide the Lightsaber from inside of her jacket and force him to hand over the list, leave him missing a finger or two as warning to her father. Doing so won't get her any closer to finding him though.

Doing so won't get Jocelyn back.

And so Clary stays still, carefully sketching the shape of the jagged scar over his eye. She doesn't look up when the bench beside her shifts with the weight of another person, just stays bent over her work. ) You're late. ( Her voice stays low, conversational, the shape of her words hidden by her hair. She pulls the page free, carefully so as not to tear it. She then pulls her bag to her lap, obscuring the view of her handing the paper over. Clary busies herself with packing up her belongings, runs a hand through her fringe and plasters a bright smile onto her face. ) You tell your guy that if he leads them to Valentine he better call me, or you'll all be looking over your shoulders.

( Not so sweet then. )

b. ota

( Clary's not really a clubber. She used to be, before all of this happened, when she had a fake I.D. and a heart that held all the love in the world for her fellow human beings. She'd met Jace in a place just like this, his eyes catching hers across the crowded dance floor. It had been a different time, she'd been a different person.

People talk, when there's alcohol involved, and so she's trying her best to put aside her unease and the memories that dog her steps and look approachable. Maybe it would have been better if she hadn't worn a dress that made it impossible to hide her weapons, but that made people talk too. It definitely had the desire effect on Topknot-Tim, the guy who was chatting her ear off about some shady activity that had gone down in his apartment building the other day - how some guy with sparks shooting out of his fingers had gotten into an argument with a blonde dude and been bundled out of the fire-escape. Topknot-Tim definitely doesn't think he's come back, and Clary's just trying to pry his address out of him - she doesn't really want to have to go home with him to find out - when the explosion rocks through the club.

She ducks on instinct, glass blowing over her head and smoke filling her lungs making her cough. Distantly she hears someone scream, and she blinks trying to clear her vision as people ( Tim included ) stumble past her to the exit. Clary curses, thinks about following him, but there are still people inside and she can't just leave. So she does what she can, stumbling towards anyone who seems to be in need of her help. ) It's okay. I'm here. Give me your hand.

c. closed to jace

( She finds her way to the alley easily. Clary isn't surprised it's him, not really, somehow they always seem to find each other even after all this time. It doesn't matter if she hadn't been looking. Currently he's demanding something of a cowering Enhanced. She doesn't know who the guy is, just that he looks afraid, and guilty. Presumably he's actually one of the bad guys - Jace is somehow still valiant about how he operates, even with Valentine whispering into his ear. But she can't know for sure because of that. He's been tricked before. And so she's silently approaching him, catching the end of his rough command, the Enhanced's plea.

Jace's lightsaber is a thing to behold, when it glows to life, a rich gold that lights up the alley and throws shadows all over the place. She knows he's not about to strike a killing blow, but it doesn't stop her from sliding her own free, closing the gap and catching his on the downward swing with her terribly pink one.

( She has so many regrets, and not holding off for a more badass colour is one of them. )

They connect with a sharp noise and she watches surprise flicker across his face, allows herself the vicious thrill it produces, before she smiles bright and cheerful even though she's anything but. ) Hey Jace. Seen my mother lately?

( This is the thing that killed them. Jace's denials, Clary's certainty. Even as she asks she can see him leaving her apartment all those years ago, each step taking him closer to the centre of Valentine's web. )

d. wildcard.

( anything you want just go for it. or if you'd like to plot a little first, i'm at athosing )

c

[estrayer]

[ Jace looks up, startled to be stopped in his tracks. His golden saber hisses against Clary's. The muscle in his arm strains as he tries to force his way past her, and then angrily pulls away. He's thrown sideways by the rush of wind that comes from the speedster he'd just cornered taking the opportunity to flee. Letting out a growl of frustration, Jace rounds on Clary. ]

He got away! He was Unregistered, Clary, what do you think you're doing?

[ He notably does not answer her question. They've had this same argument too many times. She's convinced Valentine kidnapped her mother after he found out she was enhanced, all because Valentine wants their kind to follow the law. It's ridiculous. It always has been, and Jace can't believe he's dealing with it again. ]

I can't do this right now. I have to hunt this guy down all over again thanks to you. You think this is a game?

adam parrish | the raven cycle ( cw: abuse )

[aberth]

a. ota

( A forest is slowly growing, taking hold in the middle of New York's bustling financial district. Luckily it's ( mostly ) out of the public eye, high above the streets themselves. Adam Parrish sits in the centre of it, cross-legged on the concrete rooftop, soft grass creeping from beneath his body, vines springing to life and curling around his thighs, sloping around his arms and wrists. There are leaves in his hair, pressing against his temples and following down the shape of his skull to his throat.

He looks like he's becoming part of it.

Adam's waiting, while pretending he's not, pulling in each mossy scented breath and holding it in his lungs. The city had been a haven for him once, when he'd run as far away from his hometown as he could get. It hadn't been easy, he'd still had to put himself through college, still worked himself ragged with more than enough jobs. But it had been his, and his alone. Then the Chitauri had come and Adam had stopped being a nameless face in the crowd, had a target painted on his back. His power meant that the city's high rise horizon had started to close in around him. He felt it hard to breathe. He felt like he was going insane. But there was nothing he could do. Anti-Enhanced sentiment was rife, and if he registered then he'd be out of work, probably kicked out of his apartment, school would be a bust. And there was no way he could go back to Virginia, not now, not after everything.

The grass shivers at someone's approach, coming from Adam's deaf side, and so he turns his head towards the figure, an eerie stillness about his body. )

Oh. ( Distant. Unaffected. ) It's you.

( It's hard to tell if this is the person he was waiting ( not waiting ) for or not. But then, that's Adam Parrish for you. ) What do you want?

b.

( By now, news of the explosion is everywhere. It's bright and loud across every television screen, every newspaper, every online network. There's no way Adam could escape knowing about it, even if he plugged up his good ear and closed his eyes. He could feel it reverberating around the city, a buzz of tension that reminded him of heavy footsteps in the trailer, of the shifting of air right before he was hit.

Something was going to happen, and it was going to be bad.

It hadn't helped his mood, irritable and angry even as he worked in one of the auto shops in a dodgy part of town. He's pretty sure the cars he's putting through the books come from some very bad people, but Adam needs the money and he can't kick up a fuss. There'd be too many questions. So he stays late, works hard, closes up long after it's dark. His hands are coated with oil and he's itchy from it, tired enough that for a second he imagines dark wood and clean water, can almost feel the tickling of flowers on his face.

The daydream is interrupted by a shout, the sound of a scuffle nearby. Adam flinches towards it, peering out into the black night. He should ignore it, put his head down, keep walking. But the voice is scared, shaking and weak, and Adam remembers just how that feels. He takes off at a run, towards the noise, heart racing behind his ribs. The Enhanced is on the floor by the time he gets there, and Adam swears before dropping his bag, hands spread so that thick vines erupt from the concrete in a shower of rubble and dust, striking the attackers and sending them flying. He eyes the victim, his own eyes blue and wide. )

Run.

c.

( anything you want just go for it. or if you'd like to plot a little first, i'm at athosing )

a; slight assumed cr!

[hasitsthorns]

Don't sound so happy to see me, mister forest nymph. [ She's teasing. He knows she is. Because he also knows they're similar. Both Enhanced without asking to be, both having their future stripped away from them because of it. They'd been classmates in college once. Hard to believe that was only a few years ago, some days. Hard to believe how much changed and how quickly.

At least they have this, she supposes. These quiet moments on the fringes of the city. She doesn't usually disturb Adam out here, but today had been... difficult. Especially so, for a lot of reasons. None of which she really wanted to get into so she escaped out here instead, with her guitar. She didn't intend to run into his familiar face but can't say she really minds all that much that she she did. He's got a soothing, quiet presence she's always appreciated. ]

Mind if I strum out a few songs, dude?

Wyatt Lawson

[bratpack]

A. FOLLOWED

[ He's felt nervous for days. That's not an unusual thing, or at least he doesn't think it is. Wyatt always has his eyes open for people who notice him. He's in this city exactly because he's trying not to get noticed. Its crowds, all the loudness of everyone more eager for attention than Wyatt, the sheer scale of the place; he can get lost there. He keeps to himself, neither wanting nor needing company, except for when he meets his dealers and customers. That, he thinks of is business. The rest is his business, and no one else's.

But someone has taken an interest in him. He doesn't know why. He doesn't think he's done anything to deserve it, but he wracks his brains trying to work it out. Did he use his powers in public? Did he get noticed talking to someone, selling something? It could be any or none of those, but either way he's nervous.

Tonight he's riding a bus back and forth, trying to sleep there because it's better than the street. He shifts in his seat when he meets your eyes. Something about this feels wrong. Either he's seen you one too many times today, or he thinks he has. Or he's gained a new level of paranoia, because he's not taking this anymore. He drops into the seat behind you. ]

Okay. What is it? I didn't ask for company and I've seen you like five times today. What the hell do you want from me, man?

B. PRE-EXPLOSION ( OTA )

cw: drugs
[ The club is a regular haunt for Wyatt. He isn't inside, because frankly he wouldn't get past the front door, but he's on the streets close by. He's every inch a street kid, looking scrawny and underfed in clothes that don't really fit him. He's careful about revealing that he's anything more than that, afraid of drawing attention from the wrong people. Registration for the Enhanced? He's not supposed to be in New York in the first place.

The people he's meeting aren't friends of the enhanced. There are quick exchanges, technology he's scavenged from the streets passed over in exchange for more bills than even the best pound of weed ever earned him. He's selling nothing that he imagines can be of any value, but the fact that he sells it at all keeps them off his back. An enhanced, selling Chitauri tech to Vigilantes? That would never happen.

Despite all of that, there's drugs on offer too. The clients who want something more special than that know to ask for it. He waits for business not far from the club, a joint in his hand. Despite the fire he literally has at his fingertips, he lights it with a regular lighter, and the draw he takes makes his pupils dilate. The music from the club is decent; Wyatt listens even while he looks for business, trying to catch the eye of anyone coming by either to enter the place or to protest its existence. ]

You here for a party? [ He calls, eyebrows lifting whenever he catches anyone's attention. ]

C. EXPLOSION ( CLOSED TO JADEN )

[ He's making a trade when it happens. Part of a staff, broken but apparently still useful. They're mid-trade when it happens; sound, heat and glass everywhere, the blast throwing Wyatt clean off his feet and into the brickwork behind. Winded and dazed, he's lost all track of where he is. There's a shard of glass buried in his abdomen. He hasn't noticed that yet. He tries to stand, but the wall he'd been thrown into is unsteady, and he loses his grip. ]

Help...someone help me!

[ He tries to call, but it's weak. More noticeable than that are the flames licking their way around his fingers. Wyatt is immune to his own powers, but the broken debris around him is not. If he doesn't stop, it's going to go up, and he doesn't even know he's doing it. His head rolls while he tries and fails to stand again, this time pulling more debris down on top of him. ]

D. CREATE YOUR OWN ( OTA )

[ ooc: Prompt Wyatt! I'm halfbloodly if you want to plot. ]

b; slight assumed cr?!

[hasitsthorns]

I'm here to have some fun, [ the blond answers. Her knee high boots over tattered jeans click against the concrete as she steps closer to him. ]

But you know that, [ she adds, smiling. He's a regular same as she is albeit for differing reasons. Not that she's judging, of course. Any way to get by in this city. Rose of all people knows it isn't easy, sometimes. New York City has gone downhill the last few years; a lot of people blame those like her - the Enhanced, the Unregistered - for it.

Not like Rose asked for these powers. She was just an unassuming music student once. Was told she could've made it big, if she'd kept at it. Then suddenly her voice was a weapon and all that fell to pieces real quick. ]

How's it going tonight? [ The 'business.' ]

Rafaello d'Este (OTA)

[mordacita]

A. CLUBBING

[ Before the trouble starts, Rafa's night is very normal. He's ensconced in a booth, surrounded by brothers in arms. He wears a long leather coat with the hood pulled up over his hair, shading his face from casual onlookers. He's well known here; openly Enhanced, yet a staunch opponent of Registration, Rafa has often spoken of violence, warning that the Enhanced will be targeted. His involvement has been suspected, though never proven, at dozens of incidents across the city. These days, when he's in public, he's with his brothers.

Of course, they all abide by the rules of this club. Violence isn't tolerated here, but that's not what stops Rafa. This is a place welcoming to his kind. Even those who want to hide what they can do sometimes come here, just so that they need not feel afraid.

It's a good place to recruit. ]

Get another round.

[ He says to the man at his side, who quickly disappears to do it. Meanwhile, Rafa beckons to the person who has just caught his eye. He leans forward across his table, and holds out a ringed hand. He crooks his finger, and a coin from the floor zips up between his fingertips. He smiles. ]

I've not seen you before. Are you new to these parts, friend?

B. POST-EXPLOSION

[ Behind them is the club, or what remains for it after the explosion took it down. The crowd is centred on one man, who at first glance appears to be standing on something. The closer you get, the easier it will be to see, until finally it's clear that there's nothing beneath him. He's hovering there in thin air, his hands outstretched, a deep purple cape flowing in the wind behind him. As you approach, even the light around him seems strange. It seems brighter in his vicinity, lighting him from below, and making him look larger and more frightening. His eyes are dark and blazing. His hair is loose in the wind. At first he may appear to be alone, but there are others in the crowd, hidden there - allies of his, waiting to act if he's challenged, or even attacked.

This isn't Rafa's first time. ]

My friends, my brothers and sisters. My Enhanced brethren. I call upon you today to stand with me. Stand with me, in opposing Registration. Look how this world cries out for us. When the fire fell from the sky, we were here. We were changed, the power was given to us. We did not ask for this power. We did not cry out for it, or beg for it. Yet it was given to us all the same, power beyond the dreams of our human relatives.

For we are not human anymore. They have made that clear. They asked us to Register, as though our nature alone makes us dangerous. That, alone, showed their contempt. Now they have shown us their hatred. They have attacked a place we came to in peace. They have killed our brothers. I told you it would come to this. Now that it has begun, it will not stop until we are on our knees before them!

[ His voice has risen louder. Rafa lifts higher above the crowd, his arm lifted. While the crowd watches he wraps his powers around a large windowframe that had belonged in the club. Now bent and twisted out of shape, it looks as shattered as the rest of the building. Rafa closes his fist, and the metal shrieks and squeals beneath his power. He compresses it, forcing it into a solid ball. ]

My friends, we are more than they know. We have strength that is greater than their governments, greater than their stolen weapons. We have been granted real power. We will not stand idle while they wipe us away! Now is the time to fight! Rise up with me, and take this city from them! The time is now, today!

[ With his crowd stirred to more violence, Rafa leads them into the streets. They split off into different groups, using their powers against anyone spouting anti-Enhanced rhetoric - and a fair few who happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Rafa lets that happen. He knows it will draw out the Vigilantes, the ones he really wants to get his teeth into. He stays at the centre of the violence, watching as it spills through the streets and helping where he can. ]

C. UNMAKING

[ When the veil lifts, he can't believe how far he's fallen. He knows these streets. He's walked them all his life. He remembers every moment of it, and yet he knows he hasn't really been here for more than a few days. How much of it was real? He thinks the explosion was, and therefore everything that came after it. The people he'd killed, the damage he'd done...

It had taken a job of work to get away from his gang of Enhanced thugs. They'd tried to follow him. No doubt they're still looking for him, along with half of the city. None of that matters anymore. He was sent here with a job to do. Nothing in this world is what it seems, and one objective is now crystal clear in his mind: he has to wake the others up. The problem is going to be how he'll make them listen to him, given the person they'll think he is. Given the person he's just been. The first thing he does is pull out his phone to text Shane. That's who he needs. If he's still lost in the mire of this world, he'll probably hate Rafa right now. He'd be right to. But it doesn't matter; he needs to try anyway. ]

shane, we need to speak. please, it is important.

[ And now the rest. The purple cape he'd worn to make himself visible has already been discarded, left to be trampled in the crowd. Rafa edges towards the alley, watching for the right kind of person, and - there. He grabs the boy by his scruff, pulling him into the alley and directly into a sleeper hold. When he collapses, Rafa borrows his baseball jacket and hat, and rejoins the crowd.

Primarily, he's looking for people he knows. Literally anyone could be a new prisoner from another world. He'll be watching for them, but that means watching for strangers. He's looking for his friends, too. Somehow, he has to convince them of who they really are, so that they can work out this mess together. If he can do that without getting arrested for treason first, it'll be a miracle. Find him if you dare. ]

D. CREATE YOUR OWN ( OTA )

[ ooc: Prompt Rafa! I'm halfbloodly if you want to plot. ]

b;

[hasitsthorns]

[ A harpy screech tears through one of the main groups he's gathered. It's not for him and his cause, however, but against. It leaves even other enhanced immobilized, the nails on chalkboard sound temporarily stunning a handful of people around her. Rose is loathe to use her powers for violence, to hurt but this is pointless and stupid and needs to stop. She'd heard his speech but now she seeks him out. Their self-proclaimed 'leader,' who's no better than anti-Enhanced vigilantes in her mind. Her eyes are icy as she glares at Rafa wherever he hovers, ]

You're a hypocrite, [ she spits, bitterness boiling over and leaving her angrier than even she anticipated. Fists clenched and teeth gritted. ]

Swinging the pendulum the other way isn't justice, it's stooping to their level! You spout anti-human rhetoric the same way they spout anti-Enhanced propaganda. Don't act like you're any better, you're exactly the same! Oppressing your oppressors isn't going to fix anything!

[ That last shouted word sounds similar to the screech before, hurting the ears of anyone close. It's harder to control her powers when she's emotional, but she can't help it. He's just like Charlie, thinking he's right when he's so wrong. This isn't the way to solving things, it's only a different kind of radicalism. There needs to be a middle ground, compromise, peace. How many more people - Enhanced or not - need to die before everyone can see that? ]

john murphy | the 100 | ota!!

[rekt]

SNEAKING AROUND THE CITY, BEING A FUGITIVE;

[ it wasn't just the windows, the other year, and it wasn't only an explosion outward.

when john murphy came to, he was buried the only unharmed thing within a five foot radius, amid a massive pile of rubble. the main lobby of Grand Central Station, that he'd just been running through, panicked and scared and despairing, had just imploded around him, as he'd clutched his head and screamed. from that day forward, john would never return to his screaming mother and their shitty apartment, nor his dad's grave to leave flowers or quietly talk. his face was on the news, inside police stations, on the covers of newspapers. it was joseph kavinsky that found him hiding out in a sewer entrance a few weeks later, scrubbed the grime off of him, and found him a hide away apartment in an abandoned building to squat in, undisturbed.

he doesn't make it out much now, not without his hood pulled up, a pair of sunglasses, and a mask that looks like he's expecting a plague to hit any moment now. there's still a warrant out for him, and plenty of prices on his head underneath what's legal, from various places. angry survivors, gangs, labs, private militaries, anyone who could use a scared kid with a lot of unstable power. but even so, he has to eat, and joe can't do everything for him.

catch john out in the chinatown market, stocking up on food and necessities, or passing through a park late at night. maybe a mugger thinks he's an easy target, and you just happened to catch this kid covered head to toe throw a grown man against a tree with one an outstretched hand, before he glances left, and right, and dashes for the closest subway entrance. maybe he's watching you practice your powers from a distance, or you're just looking for a place to squat in his abandoned building. ]

[CLOSED TO KAVINSKY] hovel hangouts;

[ john hates the drugs, everything about them, but they keep his powers tapped down. they make him feel drained, and listless, give him headaches and weird dreams, everything feels distance and blurry. like being on sedatives. but, he needs them. joseph, despite watching him at the worst of times, supplies him with what he needs, and to improve the mood, adds in some stupid gag relaxation gift.

last week, it was a little desk zen garden and a book of buddhist mantras. the week before, it was aromatherapy candles. this week, it's a daniel craig body pillow, and john's staring at it like daniel craig literally just showed up in his living room/kitchen/bedroom, just... hanging out. ]

Why Daniel Craig? I don't even like James Bond that much... [ john murmurs, reaching out to grasp the thing and flip it upside down, only to notice that the back has daniel craig's ass on it. lord. time to turn the pillow case inside out, then. despite how dumb his gifts are, and despite how much john will never use them, he keeps all of them, most piled around the mattress layered with sleeping bags and blankets against the back wall. a reminder of the fact he got them at all. not that he's planning on letting john forget that, with how he's going around lighting up all the candles from a couple weeks ago, now. ]

Joe. Smoke signals are the last thing I need right now. [ he stretches out his arms, waving him over to the mattress he's seated on. ] Come on, leave it.

[ come here and take daniel craig's place, please. ]

LUCID - GET TO THE COPPER;

[ when murphy finally comes to, it's in the middle of an enchanced fight, and he nearly gets himself killed. it's a quick retreat, trying to follow his false mind's memory of the subways to find a hiding spot, to curl up and go insane in.

there's a lot that this world's given him that murphy needs to sort through, not least of which being the telekinesis that has yet to leave him. when they get back to xistentia, that'll be gone, right? right. of course. hopefully, because this shit is just too fucking much for him.

what he concentrates on, instead of all the what-the-fuck spidermarvel land has slapped him with, is getting his daemon operational, getting a few of the newbies out, and going the fuck home. so if you're one of those he finds, murphy's not very subtle in his approach. you'll have a cellphone slapped to your chest, or what looks like a cellphone at the moment - surprise, it's your daemon. ]

Open it up. Listen. Follow it. [ whoever the fuck you are. ] When you get to the beach, start walking for the city. Good? Great.

WILDCARD;

[ yo yo yo ]

around the city;

[hasitsthorns]

I don't charge, [ she says, to the boy wearing sunglasses at night. The tune of her guitar actually changes with that train of thought to the classic 80's hit. It's a smooth transition. She's better than your average deadbeat dudebro playing half-composed songs in the park to pick up chicks, that's for sure. ]

So if you wanna', like, stop being Creepy McGee and hang out a little closer it's cool with me.

[ Her eyes drift up from the instrument now, falling on John where he's trying (and failing) to hide. Being Enhanced didn't give her heightened senses like others. No, she's just become a lot more aware of her surroundings in the last few years because of it. Kind of have to be, when anti-enhanced sentiment seemed to be at an all-time high. ]

I even take requests!

Ronan Lynch; assorted

[fiachdubh]

-- IN THE STREETS - AT NIGHT - OTA --

[ He’s just a shadow. From dark alley to dark alley, he flits, barely visible, humming with energy - his own and alien alike, Chitauri tech crackling blue energy under his cape, hidden but for flashes of light whenever he moved.

The suit, for all that it looked heavy and unwieldy, was actually a pretty solid piece of work. Up along the spine were encased Chitauri energy cells, powering the exoskeleton Ronan wore to give him enhanced strength, speed, and agility. Along with the sonar he used to scan for criminal activity, and the array of weapons he carried around, he looked… well, kind of dangerous.

He also looked clumsy. And he wasn’t as stealthy as he liked to think he was. And he wasn’t as unrecognizable as he wished he was. But he tried. With his homemade cape and mask, he scoured the city streets at night to prevent Enhanceds and Non-Enhanceds alike from committing crimes. Of course, it made him somewhat a criminal himself, but there wasn’t much he could do about that part.

Tonight, there is crime to fight. And if you happen to stumble upon Ronan, well. Enjoy the show! ]

-- PAX SANCTUM - PRE-EXPLOSION - (closed to Jace) --

[ It’s not unusual that the bar is packed. As for himself, Ronan is not packing much; only the very essentials, his sonar and a couple weapons hidden in various places upon his person. He walks into Pax Sanctum, using his height to clear a path towards the bar, hands shoved deep in his pockets and elbows out, not hesitating to dig them into anyone staying in his way.

It’s not that he’s angry, really. It’s just - seeing Adam and leaving Adam always leaves a funny taste in Ronan’s mouth - pun not intended. He could still feel his lips tingle, and his ears still buzz with words whispered.

Jesus, he needs a drink.

Getting to the bar is a bit of a workout, but he manages, slumping against the sleek counter, leaning on his elbows and letting out a loud sigh before running a hand over his shorn hair. It takes him a second, but then he feels the eyes on him, just by his left, and he darts a look. Oh. Just fucking perfect. ]

I swear to God if you make a single comment about my appearance before I’ve got a glass of whiskey in my hand, I will clock you, Wayland.

[ To be fair, it was, actually, pretty much how Ronan spoke to anyone, including his friends. One of which, Jace kinda was. Weirdly enough, if asked to remember how they met, Ronan wouldn’t be able to pinpoint it exactly, but. Here they were. ]

-- WAREHOUSE SHENANIGANS - (closed to Kavinsky) --

[ Kavinsky and his goons was at it again, and Ronan couldn’t think of a place in the world where he wouldn’t hate hearing these words on his sonar, hear that distorted voice say, let’s have some fun directly in Ronan’s ear, feeling almost too intimate. He grits his teeth as he follows his sonar, to a large warehouse, looking abandoned from the outside - broken windows high up along the walls, graffitis adorning most walls, a sign hanging half-off, red with rust, unintelligible.

The noises are clearly coming from inside, Kavinsky and his little gang too busy probably torturing some poor Enhanced - or maybe kittens - to hear Ronan come in when he slinks inside the warehouse, finding shadows and cover behind large, half broken and empty crates, creeping closer and closer, until --

A gun cocks, at the back of his head. Ronan stops dead in his tracks, straightening up, feeling the Chitauri energy from the weapon almost right against his skin. He’s pretty sure it’s Kavinsky, because Kavinsky loves to fuck with him. So Ronan doesn’t hold his hands up, stays right where he is, taking stock of where his weapons are on his person. ]

Joseph. Would you be so kind as to lower your weapon?

-- PAX SANCTUM - POST EXPLOSION- OTA --

[ When Pax Sanctum finds itself shaken by an explosion, Ronan is just outside its doors, ready to go down for a drink or fifteen. The night feels long already, and Ronan’s spine is hurting from the various blow one of the Enhanceds he had to fight landed all over him.

That’s what you get for fighting a man made of metal, his brother would probably tell him.

But his brother isn’t here right now, and Ronan is - Ronan is thrown to the ground by the blast, shaken for a moment as his brain catches up to what, exactly, is happening. It’s not long before he’s getting himself up again, staggering towards the building and pushing indoors, immediately shielding his eyes from the heat and light from the fire, scanning the room as best he can for anyone looking injured.

He doesn’t think when he sees someone on the ground, sliding to his knees across the floor to their side, hands shaking as he reaches inside his jacket for his emergency kit. ]

Shit. Can you tell me where you’re hurt? Can you move at all? We need to get you out of here!

Nighttime in the streets ;

[amplifyings]

[ As all good gang members know, the night is the most opportune time to get to work. All of the evil businessmen and politicians are all asleep in their ritzy Manhattan brownstones, most security guards are either dozing off or paying more attention to some video on Youtube than their CCTV feeds, and most importantly, there's the cover of darkness. Pitch black alleyways that most anyone out on the street pointedly avoids and shuffles past quickly, looming shadows that someone as small as Blue can easily hide in.

And who needs Chitauri tech when you've got enhanced abilities and a trusty metal pipe? (Probably Blue Sargent, but she puts a lot of faith into that pipe.)

Tonight's target is a high rise building said to house the offices of some "highly influential players" in the anti-Enhanced movement -- those same guys funding the bigwigs who've been passing all these registration acts and stupid laws -- and what better thing is there to do than break inside and smash up the place?

Blow it up, maybe, but Blue needs to let out a little pent up aggression. ]

Okay, you take care of the locks. [ She points to a girl on her left with the ability to manipulate things with her mind. ] You knock out the alarms. [ Said to another girl with electricity crackling from her fingertips. ] Then the fun begins, got it? [ The rest of her small demolition crew nods before scurrying off in all directions.

And that's when she hears it. The soft swish of fabric moving through the air, followed by the distinct crunch of asphalt underneath heavy shoes. And as she turns her head in the direction of the sound, she gets a glimpse the masked and caped crusader, her head tilting to the side and one of her eyebrows lifting high enough that it disappears into her bangs. ]

What are you supposed to be?

[ Then again, it also kind of looks like someone celebrating Halloween early. ]

Jace Wayland (OTA)

[estrayer]

A: PRE-EXPLOSION

[ In this world, Jace is a vigilante. After the Battle of New York, he'd found himself infuriated by the devastation that had come to his city. Valentine Morgenstern, Jace's superior on the force and an old friend of his parents, had spoken loudly against the leniency their colleagues were affording the Enhanced. Not enough was being done to keep ordinary, innocent people safe, and Jace looked at the place his world was becoming and couldn't help but agree. When Valentine left, Jace had followed him, and he's been by his side ever since.

He's living a life where he knows his place, and knows where he belongs. He's doing what he has to do to keep people safe, and if that means acting outside of the law, then so be it. He looks for signs of Enhanced people who are abusing their powers, and who haven't Registered. He can be found chasing them down, holding his golden lightsabre to their necks. ]

It's time to stop running. I know what you are. You're signing tonight. You can come by yourself or I'll drag you there. It's up to you.

B: POST-EXPLOSION

[ He's on a roof close by when the explosion rocks through the night. Jace starts forward, dawning horror on his face as he realizes what's happened. He'd been here in case there was trouble. He's often here for this reason, knowing it as a place the Enhanced tend to gather. Everyone knows it's a place where they gather. He's already running towards it, knowing he has to help, while unthinkable thoughts crowd their way into his mind.

Was this him? Was this his group, was it Valentine? No, it couldn't have been. They wouldn't do that, no matter what anyone says.

Jace skids to a halt as he reaches the first signs of debris. The whole place is in flames, and there's acrid smoke staining the sky. He covers his mouth with his sleeve, resisting the urge to choke, and scans rapidly for survivors. It doesn't take long before his saber is in his hand, crackling and hissing its way to life. He sweeps the golden beam through debris, cutting it apart and trying to reach anyone who's trapped. ]

I'm here to help! [ He shouts, knowing that most of them won't believe it. He doesn't care. He'd been watching; there was no trouble here before this happened. Enhanced or not, these people didn't deserve this. He'll worry about what that means after he saves their lives. ]

Make some noise! I'll get you out, I swear!

C: MEMORIES RETURNING

[ It was the explosion that had done it; the shock of that situation, and then the fact of the bodies strewn around, the fear and panic afterwards. It had woken another memory in Jace, of a room in another world when energy had burned through his body, and then he'd woken to find dozens of Downworlders on the ground because of him. All because of him. In the middle of it all, he had known. He'd been himself again, and in literal terms, he had left that scene a different man from the one that had walked in.

He hadn't slept all night. Now it's the day after, and televisions are full of what had happened. The scenes are being replayed over and over again. There's violence on the streets, which the Jace of yesterday most likely would have involved himself in. Now it's different. Now he's back on mission. After all he's seen already, there is nothing more important than that. He has his daemon-phone in his hand and he's letting it scan, while he looks for the people that don't belong.

They'd given him another daemon. Now that he's remembered it, he has it held in his other hand, and he's waiting for it to light up. When it does, he doesn't hesitate to approach the person it's after. Enhanced, vigilante, none of the above, it doesn't matter to him anymore. None of this is real. Whatever Jace feels about this place can wait; he's packed it away. ]

Hey. You got a second?

[ He looks plaintively at the person. He's still dressed how he was last night; all leather and metal, with a Chitauri saber in his pocket. There's every chance this person might recognise his look, or know him for his vigilante associations. He's ready for that, but he won't let it stop him from acting. ]

It's important. You won't be sorry.

[ The rest of the time, he keeps to the streets. He's looking for others from Xistentia, especially his family. If they need to be woken from the fog in their memories, Jace will be the man to do it. The one thing he's not looking for is a fight – not anymore. But the saber stays in his pocket, just in case. ]

D: CREATE YOUR OWN

[ ooc: Prompt Jace! I'm halfbloodly if you want to plot. ]

A.

[miss_brilliant]

[Amanda had a feeling she might have been getting too cocky with her powers outside the safety of Pax, but on the other hand she'd also managed to go unnoticed for this long maybe she was just that good, and the rush of that thought was impossible to deny.

But she'd screwed up. One too many sets of eyes had seen how long she'd lingered in the bank's lobby, manipulating just one more record to help a single mother keep her house. It was the one drawback of her power, the fact that if she wasn't within fifty feet or so, it wasn't effective and at home she would have been restricted by her still-relatively mundane computer. She'd tried pushing it further, but hadn't had any luck yet.

Still, she wasn't hurting people. Not anyone who couldn't afford to be hurt.

Which was why she hadn't actually considered doing simple things like wearing practical clothes instead of of a distractingly tight but also really restricting miniskirt and ridiculous high heels. Still, she bolted without thinking, because the last thing she wants is to be licensed like an animal.

She's come close to twisting her ankle for probably the third time already when she finally stops with a huff, whirling around with an expression that's much closer to exasperation than fear. She can disarm his weapon with a thought, if she wants to.

She thinks. She hopes]

I'm not the bad guy here. I'm helping people.

janus lefevre ⚔ original character ⚔ ota

[bangitybang]

open, immersed;

[perish the thought, but in this world, janus lefevre is a mobster.

maybe someday, it'll occur to them that that's not so different from what they were known to be in their homeworld. young vampires had feared janus' kind, wolves had warned their young, and sex demons-- that had been a whole other ball of wax altogether. here and now, in new york city, they avoid cops, pay off cleaners to dispose of bodies, are feared by the public in a mythological kind of way, typically out of sight and out of mind, but infamous on the news. that is, they were right up until this shit with the aliens.

maybe you catch janus reading a newspaper about it, sitting outside. enhanced registration! the explosion at pax! protests in the street! or maybe you catch them on the job, sitting in a park, surveilling their next mark, either an enhanced some bigoted consigliere wants taken care of or another person of interest. they look casual because that's how they're trained and they're good at their job, available to give you a cigarette or share half a breakfast bar.

whether in this world or the next, they've always been one of your friendlier murderers.]

closed to vex;

[one minute, the telekinetic was on his way home in the dark, a little drunk, a little nostalgic. there was a rustle of movement, but there are people around, so that was hardly surprising; the city doesn't sleep and it tends to make a shitton of noise while it's rolling around in bed all night.

the next minute, he's waking up in a chair. zip-tied. a heart monitor clipped on his right thumb, the machines to his left blipping and beeping rhythmically. there's an iv strung over his shoulder, wound up around a collar fastened tight around his throat. it could be sexy in other contexts. it would be sexy, probably, were it not for the fact he's been kidnapped into a windowless concrete room, and whatever's flowing through the tube into his arteries makes his head feel like it's clogged up with cotton wool, the reach of his telekinesis turned fuzzy and approximate.

there's a young man sitting across from him, on a flimsy-looking stool; something janus had figured, they wouldn't be hurt by too badly, if it were turned against them. pale face, dark clothes. janus stares at him.] I don't know why Giovanni wanted you, [they tell him.] I wasn't told. You can tell me if you want. It's not going to make a difference.

[vexy]

[ Vex couldn't say this was the first time this had ever happened to him. In fact, he doubted that it would be the last if this fellow was anything like his last captors. His mouth had gotten him out of more than one jam, and into several more but in the end he was a survivor and he'd do what he did best: survive.

Regardless of the circumstances, it was sexy and could feel heat centering around his groin in response to all the bindings and the dangerous atmosphere. However, he felt hungover in the strangest way- like his mind was underwater when he clearly wasn't. Likely a telekinetic block of some sort, clever. ]

Ooh, 'ello gorgeous. [ He almost purred, though even being seductive managed to sound obnoxious due to his accent and that devil-may-care look of his. ] Giovanni? Never heard of 'em, luv. But that doesn't matter now dossit? He's not here but you are. What's your name, darling?

Amanda Perry | OTA

[miss_brilliant]

A Immersion

[Amanda hadn't been much of a drinker before-- her drink of choice at night had usually been an energy drink instead of alcohol. And she definitely hadn't been social at night, because even before she couldn't really talk about the work she did after office hours. And now...well, she did the same things, sort of, she just didn't need to touch a keyboard to hack into a bank's network anymore. And that had brought so many more great things than she'd expected with it.

Sure, it came at a price--she couldn't tell anyone, not if she wanted to stay unregistered when the idea of registering made her skin crawl--but she'd gotten so much in return. Including finding a place where she felt like she belonged. A place where, for the first time in her life, she felt like she could take out that little black dress that left nothing to the imagination because she knew she'd be safe.

She didn't feel the need to put her powers on display here often, although men who got too pushy in trying to buy her a drink or pull her onto the dance floor often found that their cell phones had malfunctioned in inexplicable ways shortly thereafter.

Take right now, for instance, where she's grinning over her glass of white wine in the direction of the guy who seemed to have assumed the fact she hadn't shocked him or lit him on fire when he grabbed her elbow the second time meant she was perfectly safe only to find that every bit of text on his phone had been corrupted beyond comprehension--except to her--and would eventually find out that a few pictures he'd probably wanted to keep private weren't anymore.

She tried to use her powers for good the majority of the time, honestly. She tried to quietly fix problems for libraries and hospitals, places that never seemed to have enough money or people or time to update outdated architecture normally, or to cause a few key details to go missing from someone's record so they could get their insurance to pay for a life saving treatment. But she thought that 'good' could also be stretched to include teaching a few people a well needed-lesson in being a decent person. Her eyebrows raise a little, and the man swears again, and she can't keep herself from snorting a tiny laugh]


B. Explosion/Awakening

[Amanda was just lifting her cell phone to play around with another bit of code she'd been toying with, and then--

The glass a few feet from her explodes in a loud crash, sending first the items in her hand and then her sprawling to the ground.

She doesn't have a moment to think about the show anyone behind her might have gotten, becuase if they were behind her they must be hurt. She's probably hurt, actually, but her first, stupid instinct is to grab for her phone to see if it's been damage and---

It all comes rushing back so fast that for a moment the sounds of sirens and screaming are nearly gone as Amanda stares at her phone's display--Graced's display. Then the smoke gets to her and she starts coughing, but is squinting through the smoke, looking not toward the exits but for any piece of machinery she might still be able to disconnect from the electricity before it adds to to the flames. She has a bigger job to do, she knows that, but she can't do nothing here, not when she can really help]


C. wildcard
[what something specific? Hit me up at keenquing]

Era Ra ☘ CW: graphic blast injuries

[astralera]

☘ IMMERSION

More often these days had Era wondering if being a paramedic was the right choice for her. Unlike her co-workers she always had a difficult time keeping detached from patients, and having her heart broken on a regular basis was getting to her - not that she let her performance suffer, oh no. Ever since the explosion she's had more successful cases than any other paramedic in the city's known history, which is part of the reason why Era has debated quitting.

It's much too difficult to keep herself from healing others with her enhanced abilities, even if it would put her at risk. She's cut it close too often the past few weeks. An elderly woman who just wanted to make it to her son's funeral later that day despite a horrific assault, or a child who by all rights should have been paralyzed from the waist down. Even with her medical knowledge it's hard to keep these miracles believable. She has to decide who needs her abilities the most, leaving some to suffer simply because she knows they'll make it out alright without any intervention.

Is it any wonder she loves going out to clubs on her nights off? Getting drunk, dancing to music far too loud to be healthy, teasing strangers who are as 'unnatural' as she is. A smile and a swish of her long hair - curled to perfection - lands her a free cocktail she's more than happy to accept.

☘ EXPLOSION + POST-EXPLOSION

There is glass caught in her hair and a deafening ringing in her ears that drowns out even the loudest of terrified screams. Her mind supplies her with: shock. Temporary deafness from the sound of the explosion. Both easily fixed by placing her hands over her ears and throwing her power through her skull. Immediately the pain is gone and she's left amidst the rubble, struggling to keep her balance as people gather themselves and rush for the exits as the sound of sirens comes closer.

Era should leave too. But she can always say she entered after being nearby, doing her duty as a first-responder. She touches people as they pass her by, casually healing as much as she can with such fleeting contact. She tries not to think about the interrogation she's bound to be subject to just for being on the premises. Tries to think if she noticed anyone suspicious in the moments before the explosion, but no - she can only recall being pleasantly buzzed and grinding up against a handsome Enhanced on the dance floor.

She'll be okay. She has no family or close friends she can contact to bail her out of jail, but she's sure she can get a co-worker to cover her until she can pay them back. She's sure she has enough in her emergency savings...

"Fuck," she breathes. This is not how she wanted to spend her night off.

☘ REALITY CHECK

Era would like to say that if she'd known that the cell phone had not in fact been her patient's that she would have left it be, but unfortunately for her she is both curious and underpaid which means that random cell phone on the ground in great condition? Hell-o, electricity bill funds!

Except she instead is left dealing with the sudden realization that this whole life is a lie. Courtesy of Emmy, who has deemed it the perfect opportunity to appear in all its glowing, sparkling glory and proceed to fill her in further. Era tries to absorb as much information as she can while simultaneously trying not to twitch uncontrollably or lose her balance because she is a Hyur right now. She has ears and her tail is missing and while she has memories of being perfectly adapted to these strange physiological traits she also has a lifetime of true memories where she is an Au Ra with an entirely different method of balancing.

"Emmy," she doesn't whine. Most certainly not. "Please tell me I will not remember these embarrassing and false childhood memories once we return."

She is incredibly thankful that she had just finished her shift and that it was midday and therefore her Carbuncle was not quite so blatantly not a plush toy. Given that she is painfully short and blessedly youthful in appearance it isn't hard for her to get away with stuffing Emmy into her duffel bag and pretending it's just any old plush toy and she's just a normal kid on her way to lunch, or something.

Era does have to admit - once she can admire herself with her mind restored - that she rather likes how she looks with long hair.

☘ WILDCARD

{{ hit me up with whatever you want froakie }}

immersion!

[bangitybang]

Janus is hunting. It looks like play, but anyone who's ever hunted anything knows that there's tricks to it, even when the kill looks like sudden death and that's all. For the hunter, it goes in phases. Tracking and preparation. Risks, always, of running into unexpected sorcery— mind-reading, all that comic book shit. And always the obstacle too, of giving into fear of the unknown.

What does anyone know about the Enhanced, anyway? What do the Enhanced know about themselves?

Janus wonders if Vex is here. But they wouldn't be able to kill him even if he was. So they buy the pretty girl a drink, flash her a grin. Two weeks ago they'd paid for a fucking teeth whitening because Giovanni was getting on them about that, and about getting married and all this shit, so-- why not? It's easy. "Hey," he says, offering her a hand. "David." Lying's easy. "What's your name?"

beach; closed to vex (wwiii!!)

[pillz]

[there are people falling out of the sky. into the sea, against trees, onto the sand. color and light, space and time prisming oddly in the portals. worlds are colliding into one another and deposit their contents into xistentia.

kavinsky lands just beyond the treeline, sand under his heels, the shade flickering overhead. he remembers being in love with murphy, in a dreamy, false, fictional way. he remembers he's in love with vex, in a way that's tenuous and terrible and characterized by a lot of weird smut. he doesn't want to remember how much he loves aric, too, so he doesn't— shoves it away, under a blanket of toxifying anxiety, a gut full of worms, a head full of dread. his worst fears have always hinged on his deepest desires. one couldn't be without the other.

ten minutes later, mark walks out of the treeline.

he looks a little disheveled. brown hair, sandy jeans. his face slightly blank, the way people get when they're shellshocked. interdimensional travel with a resurgence of apocalypse memories will do that to a guy. he's unreadable, as he turns his stare across the smattering of people stumbling onto the shore.]

[vexy]

[ Vex didn't even know how to describe that experience, but it was one hell of a ride. It reminded him why he didn't usually get involved in bollocks like that, it was all so complicated and he was constantly thrown inches near death. Ah well, he had to support his boy he supposed. Speaking of, now that he got all the sand out of his hair, he needed to find him.

Wandering around soon reminded him how much he hated to wear leather trousers on the beach, the sand always seemed to crawl up his legs and make him all itchy. Not to mention the boots! Ugh, why did he have to get all dressed up in the other world? He was seconds away from stripping everything off when he saw... him.

Honestly, this was nothing new. He'd been seeing visions of Mark on the beach for the entire time he was in Xist, but they'd been less frequent since Vin had been around. This was different too, in that Mark looked a little lost as opposed to the confident creature he usually was- something was off. But Vex didn't dare hope that it was the real deal, despite the evidence that new people were on the island he was sure that his husband couldn't be one of them.

Even so he had to stop and stare, drink in the sight of him as if he couldn't stand the thought of closing his eyes and him disappearing once more. ]