modblob: (Default)
Mods ([personal profile] modblob) wrote in [community profile] redmarsshit2020-04-27 08:43 pm
Entry tags:

test drive meme: april 2020

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.

▶ Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.

▶ All TDM threads can be considered game canon, and current players are welcome to either top-level on the TDM so prospective players can tag them, or use the prompts for logs or network posts on the communities. All threads on the TDM can be used for Activity Check.

▶ SPECIAL NOTE: We're only a month off from the 1 year anniversary of the first TDM, and we received this request for a fancy dress ball, so we thought it would be funny fun to run with it! This TDM will only have one prompt/event, as the monthly log with a bit more plot-related stuff will be going up on Friday May 1st.

a. an invitation.

There are ears everywhere in Anchor. A maintenance bot here, a surveillance AI there. SINI, restlessly pacing the dark digital hallways as she watches over the things that still matter to her. It doesn't take long for word to get out about Starscream's expedition plans. It takes an even shorter time for that news to circulate amongst Anchor's robo-population.

They know when you're unhappy. They always know.

It's why residents will start waking up one fine day to find gorgeous clothes laid out for them to wear and an invitation to a formal dinner taking place down at the plaza at Anchor’s base. The clothes aren't particularly specific to a character's gender, species, or culture - it's all about what the bots think your character would like best. Even if they're wildly off the mark, the clothes are still made to fit and fashioned beautifully. The invitations are marked "TOMORROW, STARTING AT 6PM LOCAL TIME." A smaller note underneath instructs attendees to see the tailor bot adjacent to the spa if they are unsatisfied with their assigned clothing, and also that the spa bots are on high alert, prepared to beautify anyone who wants some extra pampering and a dash of makeup.

Just be careful. Some of the makeover bots are really fond of glitter.


b. quite the spread.

True to the word of the invitation, the plaza is closed off under large white tents and guarded by bots who encouragingly steer you elsewhere should you try to get inside. They're nice, polite, all the things they've been programmed to be whether they like it or not, but there will be no sneaking by them into the party area.

At 6pm on the dot the day after the clothes arrive, characters will find music playing on all levels of Anchor, broadcast from the musical robots who have been practicing ever since that first tiny party almost a year ago.

Invitations will be taken by a bot in an impeccably tailored suit, and characters will be welcomed onto the red carpet that curves around the edge of the park and into the area cordoned off for festivities. The flashbulbs and cheering of bots that line the carpet echo through Anchor, broadcast along with the music until it sounds like the entire place is full of faintly electronic cheering. Each arrival is greeted with a fresh wave of enthusiasm, their image projected larger than life against the interior of Anchor's dome.

The sides of the tents have been rolled up, revealing the absolutely decadent set-up within.

Rows upon rows of buffet tables laid out with the most extravagant and strange dishes for residents to try. All of it delicious, though not all of it will appeal to every palate. There are sweet dishes, savory, spicy, whatever you can imagine. Appetizers of a hundred different kinds. Fruit plates formed into works of art, showing places and events from around Anchor. There are spun sugar reindire. Tiny plates of hors d'oeuvres that depict the faces of residents, both current and former. One particularly large dish is sculpted in the shape of what looks like an explosion emanating from Anchor's base, near where the locked and flooded rooms were found.

There's a cake near the middle of it all, frosting painting an image of a young, smiling man. Anyone who's seen him will, after a moment, recognize the whole and handsome features of a much younger Creepy Joe - the words on the cake say LET'S CELEBRATE OUR OLDEST LIVING RESIDENT!

While most of the food is at least recognizably from the general stores and from the agricultural level, there are other plants and garnishes that look entirely foreign. If asked where they came from, the bots will simply insist they're part of Anchor’s available resources.

There is also a full-service bar, but...not manned by the usual bartender (for anyone who might ask, the other bots will kindly inform them that the usual bartender is on sabbatical for stress). Instead there's a freshly-built bot serving drinks of all kinds, taking requests for old favorites and mixing up new cocktails based on guests' stated tastes.

The only thing not on the menu is a tequila sunrise.

There's a table full of hookahs and little treats that have various light, pleasant effects. These range from simple mood lifts to treats that will leave characters blissed out and relaxed.


c. dance, our residents, dance!

After people have finished arriving, the band picks up and guests' attention is directed upward toward Anchor's dome, where there's a truly magnificent light show being projected with musical accompaniment. It's spectacular, haunting and beautiful...and it shows more than just lights. It also shows celestial bodies in motion across the planet's dusk-red sky, meteor showers, strange northern lights. The show itself is almost an hour long, and ends with words unfurling across the apex of the dome.


HAPPY +1 ANNIVERSARY ANCHOR #3, THE LONGEST RUNNING COLONY.

STAY HERE, STAY HAPPY!



The show fades away and the music picks up again, encouraging guests to dance.

Go on, dance.

It’s a party after all.


d. the network.

Need to get hold of someone, call for help, ask the city at large a question? Need to ask a friend to back you up to take out the toothy voids? Maybe you need to hold your sat phone up to whatever crazy thing you're seeing and send out a recording to double-check if your eyes are deceiving you and what you're looking at is real?

Whatever the reason, the network is going strong, so feel free to include a post to it in your top-levels.



circumitus: (the true magician who bewitched us all)

Rey | Original | OTA.

[personal profile] circumitus 2020-05-11 06:12 pm (UTC)(link)
In a way, it's actually impressive that someone knew Rey well enough to know exactly the kind of outfit and color she likes. Rather than fitting her for something masculine tailored as is her usual attire, Rey arrives to the plaza (quite fashionably late, mind you) sporting a somehow appropriate outfit.

From the olive green evening dress, the pleated top half and shimmering patterns, to her muscular tones highlighted by the low cut backless side and her exposed shoulders, broad and strong.

And then there were her shoes. Black boots, of course. There's no way in hell she was going to bother wearing the heels that had been offered to her if the plan was for her not to break her ankles.

Naturally she gravitates towards the buffet, helping herself to piles of sweets to savory dishes. She's got a mouthful of something and trying not to literally cry as the many new flavors invade her sensitive palate (you might not catch it right away, but the tears are definitely there). An unladylike contrast to her current appearance, but maybe those curry donuts are just that fucking amazing.

She finds more familiarity at the bar, starting with straight bourbon before ordering glasses of whiskey sours. She bobs her head to the music, but doesn't quite lead herself out to the dancefloor just yet. Maybe she's being asked to. Or maybe she'd rather enjoy this very perfect, non-robot mixed sour that she's just going to keep savoring with every gulp.
Edited 2020-05-11 18:15 (UTC)
towhatmatters: (→12)

[personal profile] towhatmatters 2020-05-11 06:45 pm (UTC)(link)
A barn door at twenty feet? He straightens in his seat again, one arm resting on the bar top as he turns half his body to look at Jacob with ... mostly a hint of disbelief, but it's there.

"A barn door at twenty feet would've gotten me killed by now."
towhatmatters: (→21)

[personal profile] towhatmatters 2020-05-11 06:49 pm (UTC)(link)
At least that's a relatively easy question to answer.

"No." He folds his arms. "There ever was a person like that, they either took a hike or kicked the bucket a long time ago."
nothinglikefather: not my art (hey baby)

[personal profile] nothinglikefather 2020-05-11 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Jacob isn't a mean drunk. He doesn't say the obvious but aren't you? and instead laughs as he pulls the other drink towards him.

"Well, you're the one who said you weren't that good."

Its worth pointing that out. "So, how good are you? As good as Charles? He's a decent shot."
kaballin: (Gotta go fast)

[personal profile] kaballin 2020-05-11 07:48 pm (UTC)(link)
He probably should have expected a gigantic explanation when her name was already fourteen things long, but that's still.. a lot.

"So.. Gilia then." He only understood a quarter of those words, and especially not in that order. "I'm gonna regret asking but what's a father sea?"

He braces for a monologue.
redwinekindofgirl: (079)

Julie Grigio | Warm Bodies | OTA - IN GAME

[personal profile] redwinekindofgirl 2020-05-11 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)
b. quite the spread. - i
[Julie shows up in a fairly simple black dress with one added, and essential benefit. It has pockets. She walks down the red carpet without casting a glance to one side or the other, save to briefly look at her image being projected as she walks. She looks tired, but she's grown used to looking tired.]

That was a fucking ordeal. [She says immediately, as soon as she's out of the reach of the flashing bulbs and noise. The young woman rubs the back of her wrist against her forehead, flashing a dry smirk to the nearest person.]

Don't tell me you enjoyed it.

b. quite the spread. - ii
Oh my god, they actually upgraded the bar?

[She might have asked where the tequila sunrise bot was, as she might have raised her eyebrows just a bit at the response she got. Maybe she took it a bit too far asking the poor thing to fill a mop bucket with tequila sunrise. It does give her a bit of a snicker, admittedly, but... maybe she feels a tiny little bit bad, as well.

Maybe.

But she'll take that strawberry daquari, thank you very much.

Later, she seats herself next to one of the hookahs and chooses something to her taste, sitting with her legs curled neatly to one side as she takes a few drags. She waves the mouthpiece at someone walking by.
]

Hey, you should try this. It's actually not bad.

c. dance, our residents, dance!
[And she'll dance.

Julie loves to dance. She lifts her arms over her head and sways to the music. She'll reach out for a likely-looking dance partner and grin at them as she gently tugs them towards the dancefloor. For those who look less likely to get up, she might just sit down beside them or lean against the wall where they're standing, folding her arms loosely and watching the party for a minute.
]

Don't you think this is kind of weird? I keep expecting something to explode.

d. the network.
They let us keep the outfits after, yeah?
More dresses should have pockets. I'm into this.

Also -- favorite drink, shoot.
Edited 2020-05-11 22:24 (UTC)
writtendestiny: (010)

[personal profile] writtendestiny 2020-05-11 10:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[She jumps when she hears him - not too visibly, but the start in her shoulders and immediate straightening of her back is all too telling. Poison looks very much like a child caught with their hand in the candy jar, and she immediately grimaces when she realises he took a picture.]

I feel ridiculous.

[And unsettled, and she isn't sure she likes the way the fabric feels against her legs - which are, naturally, bare under the skirt.]

You look nice.
writtendestiny: (012)

[personal profile] writtendestiny 2020-05-11 10:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh--

[She hadn't been intending to pass on her hesitations to anyone else... but she doesn't think that Carlisle would have really needed an excuse to flee all of this attention.

Poison manages to shoot a wry smile his way.
]

Shall we go in together?

[If they walk quickly they can just get it over with.]
hypothermic: (Default)

[personal profile] hypothermic 2020-05-11 11:21 pm (UTC)(link)
"I ain't jealous." A low, dangerous hiss. The truth hurts.

Len's spent the entire night in meticulously crafted denial, and Kabal is ruining it. The man is a wrecking ball in more ways than one. Mick knew better than to call him on his shit, or play with him when he's got that nitro-glycerine cold in his eyes.

No, he didn't know better. Mick had the emotional intelligence of a sack of hammers. He just didn't care. No matter how ugly things got, at least there wouldn't be an even uglier conversation about it. Mick was simple that way.

But Kabal isn't Mick, and Mick isn't Mick anymore.

"It was my bad for assuming you had some level of taste, should've know you're a two-bit thug. Dime a dirty dozen. You and them were made for each other. If I'm such a hot piece you--" No, Len can't go there. He's not dumb enough to leave himself open like that. Not with someone he can't trust to sucker-punch him.

A gesture that's closer to a stab at Kabal's chest, punctuating every cutting word.

"I don't give a fuck what you do. Bang 'em on the buffet for all I care. Just don't expect to stick that thing anywhere near me. I'm not into sloppy thirds, fourths, or fifths." Ignore the fact he's still holding a jacked butter knife in one hand with white-knuckled fingers, distracted mid-theft. Len can't even trust his own body not to let him down. Snitch.

Speaking of buffets, they are not having this conversation here. Len wouldn't have picked this fight if he thought it would go anywhere. After verbally eviscerating Kabal, he'd planned on cutting him loose. Len lives his life without apologies, he could give less of a fuck what anyone else thinks of him or the people he chooses to screw, but there's a time and a place to go all Young and the Restless, and this ain't it.

He closes his eyes. Grits his teeth. Finds the composure he threw out the window the last time they screwed. Opens them with a steely determination to win.

Even if winning means losing the only scrap of something good he's found in this dive.

"Get out of my face. I only invited you in case my ex-partner showed up and I needed a meat-shield to hide behind. Didn't wanna ruin my outfit."
abheirrant: (❧ they weighed upon him,so heavy)

[personal profile] abheirrant 2020-05-11 11:41 pm (UTC)(link)
[He has half a mind to leave anyway, but there's Poison, keeping him from isolating himself away as usual — or rather as a usual he doesn't remember and has only heard of secondhand. His brow knits as his eyes flick from her to the party ahead.]

I suppose I should make an effort to go. I bothered to change for this, and it would be easier to convince myself with company than on my lonesome.
kaballin: (Teeth)

[personal profile] kaballin 2020-05-12 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
If Len had hoped for some sort of violent outburst from Kabal, either him defending his actions or maybe tossing Len through a table full of appetizers to really end this for good; he'll be disappointed. Because Kabal just stares.

There's a whole hell of a lot to unpack there and Kabal is not sober, nor smart enough, to do so in a way to really deal with this.

"Sounds like something a jealous person would say." Muttered under his breath because the sarcastic response felt normal, clinging to that because everything else happening here is so fucking weird he can't begin to parse it. Couldn't they go back to witty banter and barely concealed flirting?

"Didn't realize you were a blushing virgin deigning to slum it up with a two-bit thug. You sure as fuck weren't complaining before. In fact I remember more than a little encouragement." He's still annoyed but now there's a level of confusion with it because this feels like it's some elaborate joke. Did Len spend weeks fucking him just to drop him publicly for fun?

And drop him from... what? This isn't a ...

Are they...

Are they a thing?

His eyes drop to the whiskey he's holding, because he could use some more of that for the facial journey he's going on while trying to Nancy Drew this shit. And he never liked mysteries.

"Wait. Do you think I'm cheating on you?" Blunt as always, and now, yeah it's time to pull the mask off again for some more whiskey. He's not ready for this.

He's about to say something else and then his face twists back up in a snarl at that last comment, "Ex-Partner. What you needed someone to be your bodyguard cuz you can't take care of yourself? Sounds like a swell guy. Bet we'll be friends. Can bond over whatever the hell this tantrum you're throwing is for."
hypothermic: (pic#10289574)

[personal profile] hypothermic 2020-05-12 01:30 am (UTC)(link)
There's so much Len could say. Too much. He's not going to respond to Kabal's half-assed (painfully real) insults, because he's above that. Above him.

And yet-- is the air conditioner broken in here? Because Len can't seem to keep his cool. He's tempted to smack Kabal in the face for the brief moment it's visible. Len hates that he still finds him attractive. Burns and all.

He narrows his eyes, tossing the butter knife onto the buffet. RIP any innocent bystanders who get splashed with cocktail sauce. Your sacrifice is definitely in vain. That's not coming out later.

"You'd be two country-fried assholes in a pod. He couldn't think past the tip of his burnt dick either. If I had his number, I'd give it to you. So you can both screw off into the sunset and have the time of your lives, breaking crap and lighting it on fire, until the next shiny thing comes along."

A glance around the room. Len can't help himself. If Mick were here he would know, or already be dead. Len hasn't seen singed hide or hair of him since their last spat on the network. They almost talked. Came close, between barbed insults and hurled threats.

Len wanted to think Mick was thinking things through for the first time in his life, but deep down he already knew the truth. Mick was gone. By his own volition or a higher power. Len still doesn't understand how this place works. He's starting to think it's some kind of limbo. Punishment for screwing it up so bad in your own universe you blip out of existence.

Will the team notice he's gone? Would any of them care? It figures he would end up doing the leg-work for all this 'saving the world bullshit', and get cut from the credits in the end.

Kabal can't be cheating, because they were never really together.

Len's never really been with anyone.

He knew a long time ago he'd be dying alone, but it's still a bitter pill to swallow. Which is why he'll wash it down with a mouthful of whiskey and the sad remains of a melted ice-cube, tossing the glass aside (into a plant, or the train of someone's skirt) with a heavy sigh. He's only half acting.

"It was fun while it lasted, but I think you should go. Before I jam that fork into your eye-socket. I doubt there's anything you could say to save what's left of our little arrangement, but I'll give you one shot." A sardonic smile. Daring Kabal to take it. Knowing he won't.

In the end, that's better for both of them. Men without hearts will never be anything more than they already were.
Edited 2020-05-12 01:32 (UTC)
numerouno: do not take (CXXVIII)

[personal profile] numerouno 2020-05-12 02:03 am (UTC)(link)
"Wouldn't that be something?"

Scaramouche shoots a meaningless glance at the man, ready to return his full attention to the drinks menu in his hand, but then he's doing a double-take, giving those familiar duds a pointed once-over.

"Say, what's the idea?"
kaballin: (I woke up for this)

[personal profile] kaballin 2020-05-12 02:14 am (UTC)(link)
Two country-fried.. wow that's cute. He snorts and finishes his whiskey before tossing the fancy decanter that's probably worth a pretty penny over his shoulder and letting it crack on the ground. Oops, maybe should have stolen that, but he was a little distracted with Captain Drama Queen here being mad at him for who knows what.

And then there's the sudden spark of dawning realization. Everything goes from confusion to being as crystal clear as that poor shattered decanter was.

Burnt up. Treacherous ex-partner. Trying to kill each other. A guy with a cold gun and one with a heat gun.

"Chronos? Your ex is Chronos?"

It all falls into place and Kabal straight up laughs in Len's face because he gets it now. He and Chronos had joked about being alternate timeline versions of each other, and apparently Kabal has now gone the extra mile and had his own sloppy seconds.

He's been the 'really bad idea' rebound fuck before. His one other tryst here had been some straight-panic thing so he knows a thing or two about being the morning after regret. But never at a level of actually being a physical replacement for someone else. That's new.

And honestly? Doesn't feel real good.

He'd sort of assumed Len was using him; fucking his way into having a place to live and the muscle to protect him. That's fine, standard roommates with benefits scenario. He can handle that.

Because people who look like Len don't shack up with people who look like Kabal. He's not into self-pity but he's a realist. There's some truths universally known that don't change no matter what planet or realm you end up on.

"Why the fuck should I go? You live with me." His eyes narrow again, he's having a feeling and he doesn't like it one bit. "Or I guess hiding with me anyway. That what's happening? If you're just using me for a place to stay, why the fuck do you care what I do?"

So much for that one chance to save this.
aintyourbro: (Cloud Strife)

[personal profile] aintyourbro 2020-05-12 02:50 am (UTC)(link)
Nope, still not ringing any bells. He puts his hands on his hips, trying to remember if he's ever heard of such a thing before slowly shaking his head.

"Pleaded? I'm not sure I follow."
hypothermic: (pic#13787728)

[personal profile] hypothermic 2020-05-12 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
"My ex-partner. We did jobs together. Robbed banks. Jacked cars. Stole what couldn't be stolen, just because we could. Made Oceans 11 look like the Teletubbies." A snarl, advancing on Kabal. Gloves hands clenching into fists. Len is the thinker, not the brawler, but drowning Kabal in a bowl of punch in front of a crowd would feel better than anything a doctor could give him.

"That wasn't this. Don't get it twisted. Mick was my--" Best friend. Brother. On and off lover, minus the love. And most recently? The man whose only goal in life was to hurt him in every possible way.

"It wasn't like that."

Not for lack of trying. Len tried plenty of times, and it always backfired. Sometimes violently. With neither of them talking for weeks, months, even years, until one of them broke. Usually (always) Len. Like a dumbass moth to an even dumber flame.

Len's never loved something that hasn't hurt him, which is why he doesn't fuck with it.

"Maybe I'd tell you if I thought you gave a shit." Fuck. He shouldn't have said that. Len regrets his words almost as soon as they leave his mouth. There's momentary rage in his eyes, then surprise, upon the realization he's played himself. Shit indeed.

Stupid. Weak. Pathetic.

This is what always happens. He shows his hand. Loses the game.

Len told Mick he was nothing without him, but Mick was the one who was ready and willing to walk away. It was Len holding him back. Doing everything he could to keep them together when Mick was be better off alone. Len never could pull the trigger. That was the real irreconcilable difference between them.

Len gave a shit, and Mick didn't.

He bites his lower lip hard enough to bleed. It takes him out of his head, and away from more dangerous wounds.

"Y'know what? Doesn't matter anymore. I'll go. Enjoy your tramps."
aintyourbro: (Clam Stram)

[personal profile] aintyourbro 2020-05-12 03:18 am (UTC)(link)
"As long as it's not the robots."

So he says, but this is still super inconvenient. Kind of hard to set him back any more than he's already been set back though, so the best he can do is work with what he's got.

"In that case, as far as I can tell you guys have established a pretty stable colony without any leadership. That's impressive."
kaballin: (Eugh)

[personal profile] kaballin 2020-05-12 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
It wasn't like that, is the universal liars refrain for when it absolutely is like that. A thing that Kabal would immediately snark back about if his brain wasn't swimming in a gallon of old fashioned while trying to sort out a very prickly soap opera situation.

Soon Chronos will dramatically flounce down a staircase like Erica Kane except with more roasting them both alive with a flame thrower and less soft-focus crying.

There's one thing that's abundantly clear amidst a fog of emotions and confusion: Kabal is way too drunk for this.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't give a shit." Both true and a safe start while Kabal tries to navigate a verbal minefield where he may have already damaged some appendages. Bruiser and fighter by nature, he's never mediated anything other than people killing each other for sport, which this is threatening to become if they keep at it. "I'm still here talking to you aren't I?"

There's a frown as he pulls the mask back on, trying to cling to sobriety as long as he can before he does something incredibly stupid. Len is some kind of complex math problem where Kabal doesn't have all the facts. He replaced Chronos with Kabal, is mad because Kabal was.. what even was he doing? Talking to people? Was he supposed to be Len's private, personal bodyguard for the duration of the night because they sure hadn't established that prior to this little shindig.

"Fucking hell, that again. I'm not fucking any of these assholes here. Well you. Or I thought I was." There's a part of him that wants to let Len go simply so this awkward conversation ends. Because he doesn't want to do this, not here, not now, not ever. "You are the most confusing fucking bastard I've ever wanted to plow into the mattress nightly."

No you know what, he's too drunk to care. Fuck all of this. He's done.

"Can you just tell me what the fuck you're mad about so I don't have to keep guessing?"
hypothermic: (pic#13694177)

[personal profile] hypothermic 2020-05-12 04:48 am (UTC)(link)
Nightly. If they weren't in the middle of chewing each others heads off, he might've smiled when Kabal wasn't looking. That's the kind of almost cute bullshit that tricked Len into thinking this could be different. Right now, all that word does is make his heart pound painfully hard.

Only an idiot would believe Kabal. A sucker. Someone too sad and desperate to know when to quit. Right now would be the perfect moment to walk away. Leaving Kabal hanging would be a power move. The only one Len has right now.

A hard stare at the other man, folding his arms across his chest.

"Take off the mask." Len isn't trying to be precious. He wants to see his face. Gauge for himself whether Kabal is being honest, or looking for easy ammunition.

What Kabal's asking isn't nothing, and what Len's asking in return isn't nothing either. He's not getting messy alone.

"I ain't kidding. You wanna know? Take off the mask."
Edited 2020-05-12 04:49 (UTC)
kaballin: (What now?)

[personal profile] kaballin 2020-05-12 05:04 am (UTC)(link)
This is a trap. It feels dangerous; a setup for something. His drunken brain can't precisely identify what but ..

He reaches up and pulls the mask off completely. Over his head so he can hold it in one hand in case Len's plan was to fucking snatch it and leave him there to suffocate.

Having a life support system fully exposed on his back makes him incredibly vulnerable. It's an egotistical show of strength that something that could easily kill him is within easy reach of everyone he fights. Even having it under the jacket would give him more protection. But no, he's the type of person that won't back down from a fight, admit a weakness or ever ask for help.

Now here he is, holding his mask and fully aware of the limited amount of time he can do that before things will start to get real uncomfortable.

But he does want to know what Len is mad about. Actually cares about what he thinks, which is another thing he's going to shove away to never think about again. There's nothing for him to say other than more questions he's not getting the answers so he simply stands there looking drunkenly confused.
hypothermic: (63)

[personal profile] hypothermic 2020-05-12 05:40 am (UTC)(link)
Len didn't think he'd actually do it. Now that they're face to face, everything feels... different.

Behind the mask, Kabal looks nothing like Chronos or Mick. As different as they are the same. You're supposed to feel safer with the devil you know.

Len doesn't know what he feels anymore. He'd blame it on booze, but out of the two of them? He's the sober one. Suddenly, being three sheets to the wind sounds a hell of a lot more appealing.

Kabal kept his word, now it's on Len to keep his. He can't walk away the bigger man if he bitches out. Thieves honour, and all that bullshit. Even the most crooked of criminals has a code.

Silence. Watching Kabal's chest heave, breathing laboured. This is uncomfortable for both of them. Somehow, that helps. At least he isn't the only asshole with a chink in his armor.

His fingers clench into the elbows of his jacket, eyes staying on Kabal's eyes, unblinking, until he finally opens his mouth to speak.

"We came together." Quiet. Hoarse. Through gritted teeth. He'll personally murder anyone dumb enough to eavesdrop. This is between them, and no one else.

"You ditched me. For them."
abheirrant: (❧ his ire kept him warm)

1.

[personal profile] abheirrant 2020-05-12 06:01 am (UTC)(link)
"You have got to be joking."

Though he keeps his voice low as he steps next to Kabal, Carlisle makes sure he hisses loud enough to be heard. The robot at his side beeps worriedly, trying to get him to have a seat at the dinner table, but Carlisle pulls his longcoat away from its spindly arms, adjusting the black scarf around his face so that it sits just a little higher.

"What are you even going to do with all those forks? Auction them should we ever have a shortage on utensils?"
kaballin: (Stalking)

[personal profile] kaballin 2020-05-12 06:07 am (UTC)(link)
The whole attitude of everything seems to have shifted. It's suddenly intimate in a way he hates, especially exposed out here by the cocktail shrimp and fruit platter. There's no way everyone has missed them having a weird little tiff, probably all staring at them now that they're hissing things under their breath. But all of his attention is on Len, doesn't even flick his eyes to the side to see if anyone is watching them.

"I didn't ditch you I.."

Ditched him.

Because he hadn't realized that they were coming together. Like together together. And now it's pretty clear he probably should have considering Len had called him specifically to ask if he was going and then insisted on leaving at the same time. His eyes go wide as the knowledge hits him of exactly what this is about, and that he's a fucking idiot for not having seen it earlier.

He's going to blame the whiskey even though it's entirely his fault.

"And we were gonna leave together too. Kinda figured you didn't want me following you around while you cased the joint." The words muttered lowly and not only because breathing sucks right now. "You really think I want any of them when I've got you?"

How stupid does Len think he is?
kaballin: (Retribution)

[personal profile] kaballin 2020-05-12 06:19 am (UTC)(link)
Well if it isn't his favorite lackey. Carlisle is moving up in the world now that he's put out a hit on Qubit and the masked one he chucks into lakes to test for poison seems to have vanished. It's a heavy burden for one sorcerer to carry.

"Probably gonna melt 'em down into ingots. Easier to store that way. And then you can separate the silver coating from the nickel beneath it, get out the impurities - worth more that way." He shrugs, spinning a salad fork between his fingers. There's apparently some areas where Kabal isn't a complete idiot, and judging monetary value of things is definitely one of them.

"You actually gonna eat something here? You weigh fucking nothing."
abheirrant: (❧ his doubt was written across him)

[personal profile] abheirrant 2020-05-12 06:28 am (UTC)(link)
"I'm not hungry."

Which is true enough. He's never hungry anymore, and it's one of the parts of being human that he sadly misses. The longer he 'lives' in this undead state, the more he finds himself longing to be hungry and thirsty, wishing he could sleep, praying he will one day close his eyes and simply dream. It's maddening to be perpetually awake: he is ever aware, unable to physically feel anything like a human ought to, but constantly taxed by mental burdens he cannot escape for even an hour or two. He still wants to think of himself as human, but he is an amalgamation of contradictions to that belief.

And he despises it, though perhaps not as much as he despises Kabal — and yet, Carlisle sought him out, approached him on sight. Deep down, he knows he can commiserate with this oaf in some way, and that he owes him his life. Disgusting.

"I will be honest in that I thought you would stay away from fire."
Edited 2020-05-12 06:28 (UTC)

Page 8 of 27