WhiskeyMarten
Porcine, not humine.
HECTOR MOSES
CS Link
SCENE:
Blood Stained Girl
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1 - Night, 2016
LOCATION:
Alley, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Hector, Raquel
-
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Fantasy New Oasis: Four Heavenly Kings — The B-Sides
- Thread starter Elenion Aura
- Start date
WhiskeyMarten
Porcine, not humine.
BOLTIUS BECKMAN, HECTOR MOSES
SCENE:
Passing The Torch
TIME:
Pre-Arc 3 — September 28th, 2021 — 5:00 PM
LOCATION:
(Shady's Motel) Phoenix HQ, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Hector, Reika, Doctor Slim (NPC), Boltius @Doctor Llamabean
Caffeine_Obsessed
Lost: Marbles
Yuto Nishimura
SCENE:
The Giant's Web
TIME:
April 16, 2021 | Pre Arc-1 | 6:15 pm
LOCATION:
Picabo Park, North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Yuto, Celestine
Caffeine_Obsessed
Lost: Marbles
Yuto Nishimura
SCENE:
Sir, This is a Hospital
TIME:
Tuesday, September 28th, 2021 || Post Arc 2
LOCATION:
Correspondance Hospital, Lower Central
PARTICIPANTS:
Peyton, Yuto
Ramjammer
Confirmed Memelord
I Would Like to See Your Permit
Lorette LècuyerCS LINK
Scene: I Would Like to see your Permit.
Time: December 2021, Night.
Location: Lower Central, Public Square.
Participants: Eric, Lorette.
She wondered if this was how a rat in a maze felt. Closed in, frustrated, and confused. It would have to if its life was nothing but a pointless exercise in turning corners blindly and staring at walls. Though when she thought about it, even a rat got something out of the affair if it managed to reach the end of the maze. Lorette saw no end in sight, much less any sign of the prize she sought if she could find it at all.
Lorette turned the thousandth corner of the thousandth narrow street of Lower Central's urban sprawl. It was down here that shacks and dilapidated houses were packed together like sardines in a decaying forest of rusted metal and rotted wood. Lorette traipsed down winding pathways past shops, bars, and the occasional restaurant. Dingy as the lower levels of Central were, they were not devoid of life.
Like her, people scurried through alleyways and slipped between buildings. Those who were nimble, brave enough, or perhaps merely foolish scampered across shingled roofs. They cleared the spaces between buildings quickly as if it were a game. They navigated the endless concrete jungle as naturally as Lorette breathed but dared not climb too high.
The fortunate. The talented. The Prosperous. They made their homes in the gleaming spires of Upper Central. It was not the place for street rats.
Lorette was no rat, depending on who you asked. But she still had an interest in them and what they could do.
Good talent was either hard to find or costly to attain. In New Oasis, it was often both.
Most people sought talent cultivated within the upper echelons of society. People with the right pedigree could afford to send their special angels off to the best schools and get them the best tutors and coaches. A lifetime of positive reinforcement and world-class training could make the mediocre elite and the already elite into superstars. Those people had enough eyes on them and enough interested parties hoping to buy them. Lorette had been forced to think outside the box when she conceived her plans years ago.
Those born lucky knew it. They reveled in it unapologetically. They could be bought for the right price but were often fickle and demanding. Lorette preferred to plan for the long term and could not rely on individuals dictated by their personal whims. No, she would have to dig further down if she hoped to strike gold.
It was the unfortunate and forgotten that she required. Those destitute and beyond desperate for some break. When those kinds of people got lucky, they clung to it like a lifeline. They guarded opportunity and fortune jealously, holding it in a death grip as if it may be ripped from their hands at a moment's notice. A life of hardship made them so. A paranoia followed them even if they succeeded and escaped the slums. Life had taken from them before and could damn well take from them again.
If diverted in the right direction, that paranoia could be forged into an almost fanatical devotion to anything that would retain the status quo. All that Lorette did was ensure she was the only thing standing between those lucky few and a life of dumpster diving.
Naturally, that was easier said than done. Poor people may have been desperate, but they weren't stupid. Lorette couldn't very well go skipping through the streets handing out stacks of cash. The people in Lower Central would view her either with suspicion or as an easy target. She was savvy enough to keep her head down and mean enough to scare away trouble. No, she needed to blend in with the other rats.
Lorette finally breached the narrow street she'd been wandering along and stepped into the open air of a middling-sized courtyard. Even with the sun's setting and the biting cold, people still chose to congregate around the ancient statue planted dead in the center. What snow had fallen onto the flagged stones had been tamped into an icy slush beneath her feet by the numerous people milling around. White blanketed the head and shoulders of the seated Buddha statue like a silken shawl. At his feet, lit candles cast a warm glow over the surrounding area, no doubt left by those who'd come to pray. The scene was so inviting that Lorette could almost forget the squalor and ramshackle homes surrounding her.
A shrill laugh pierced the air, and the woman's gaze sought out the source of the noise. A group of children played nearby. They chased each other, snowballs in hand, with unrestrained glee. They cared not for their place on the social ladder. Their lot in life was cause for neither shame nor pride. Life was as it was. And they lived as children did.
"And here I am to ruin it all." Lorette thought bitterly.
Children were easier to mold than their older counterparts. And their parents were easy to sway if there was a possibility that they could climb their way out of poverty. Lorette provided the rope they'd need to do so.
Under the guise of an anonymous benefactor and several puppet charities, Lorette had spent years erecting schools and youth centers in the most poverty-stricken areas of Central. It was there that local children were taught, trained, and closely evaluated. Those that excelled, especially those who hinted at the development of Potentiality, were further assessed for theoretical usefulness to the Albino Tigers. They'd be watched and guided closely. An unseen hand directing them towards a future that would best fill the Tiger's coffers.
The children who fell short of expectations, well...at least they got a good education out of it. So in all, it wasn't a complete loss.
That is what Lorette told herself every time she made one of these trips. In the end, she was helping these kids. That a life among the Albino Tigers was better was far better than what they might have to look forward to without her intervention. Even the less capable were still granted opportunities they would never have otherwise.
It was what the woman had to tell herself, lest she think too long and hard about the futures of their choosing, that she'd denied those children. They became cannon fodder in a war that'd started before their birth and waged for longer than they'd lived. These children would either be shuffled into the endless ranks of lackeys and drones that kept the Western District running, or they'd become meat for the grinder to further the violence between the four gangs. Lorette had long since become used to taking lives, to denying people the right to a future. But taking from children was beneath even her.
"But I still do it anyway."
Lorette closed her eyes and exhaled loudly. The cold could numb the woman to her misgivings. Those were simply things she'd have to live with, as always. The woman opened her eyes and trailed her gaze over the courtyard. She did not linger too long on anyone as that would draw attention. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to build anything in the area yet.
"I'll hang here for a bit and get a feel for the area. I'm pretty sure this one's a dead end, but the night is still young." She mused.
Roda the Red
Lorette LècuyerCS LINK
Scene: I Would Like to see your Permit.
Time: December 2021, Night.
Location: Lower Central, Public Square.
Participants: Eric, Lorette.
She wondered if this was how a rat in a maze felt. Closed in, frustrated, and confused. It would have to if its life was nothing but a pointless exercise in turning corners blindly and staring at walls. Though when she thought about it, even a rat got something out of the affair if it managed to reach the end of the maze. Lorette saw no end in sight, much less any sign of the prize she sought if she could find it at all.
Lorette turned the thousandth corner of the thousandth narrow street of Lower Central's urban sprawl. It was down here that shacks and dilapidated houses were packed together like sardines in a decaying forest of rusted metal and rotted wood. Lorette traipsed down winding pathways past shops, bars, and the occasional restaurant. Dingy as the lower levels of Central were, they were not devoid of life.
Like her, people scurried through alleyways and slipped between buildings. Those who were nimble, brave enough, or perhaps merely foolish scampered across shingled roofs. They cleared the spaces between buildings quickly as if it were a game. They navigated the endless concrete jungle as naturally as Lorette breathed but dared not climb too high.
The fortunate. The talented. The Prosperous. They made their homes in the gleaming spires of Upper Central. It was not the place for street rats.
Lorette was no rat, depending on who you asked. But she still had an interest in them and what they could do.
Good talent was either hard to find or costly to attain. In New Oasis, it was often both.
Most people sought talent cultivated within the upper echelons of society. People with the right pedigree could afford to send their special angels off to the best schools and get them the best tutors and coaches. A lifetime of positive reinforcement and world-class training could make the mediocre elite and the already elite into superstars. Those people had enough eyes on them and enough interested parties hoping to buy them. Lorette had been forced to think outside the box when she conceived her plans years ago.
Those born lucky knew it. They reveled in it unapologetically. They could be bought for the right price but were often fickle and demanding. Lorette preferred to plan for the long term and could not rely on individuals dictated by their personal whims. No, she would have to dig further down if she hoped to strike gold.
It was the unfortunate and forgotten that she required. Those destitute and beyond desperate for some break. When those kinds of people got lucky, they clung to it like a lifeline. They guarded opportunity and fortune jealously, holding it in a death grip as if it may be ripped from their hands at a moment's notice. A life of hardship made them so. A paranoia followed them even if they succeeded and escaped the slums. Life had taken from them before and could damn well take from them again.
If diverted in the right direction, that paranoia could be forged into an almost fanatical devotion to anything that would retain the status quo. All that Lorette did was ensure she was the only thing standing between those lucky few and a life of dumpster diving.
Naturally, that was easier said than done. Poor people may have been desperate, but they weren't stupid. Lorette couldn't very well go skipping through the streets handing out stacks of cash. The people in Lower Central would view her either with suspicion or as an easy target. She was savvy enough to keep her head down and mean enough to scare away trouble. No, she needed to blend in with the other rats.
Lorette finally breached the narrow street she'd been wandering along and stepped into the open air of a middling-sized courtyard. Even with the sun's setting and the biting cold, people still chose to congregate around the ancient statue planted dead in the center. What snow had fallen onto the flagged stones had been tamped into an icy slush beneath her feet by the numerous people milling around. White blanketed the head and shoulders of the seated Buddha statue like a silken shawl. At his feet, lit candles cast a warm glow over the surrounding area, no doubt left by those who'd come to pray. The scene was so inviting that Lorette could almost forget the squalor and ramshackle homes surrounding her.
A shrill laugh pierced the air, and the woman's gaze sought out the source of the noise. A group of children played nearby. They chased each other, snowballs in hand, with unrestrained glee. They cared not for their place on the social ladder. Their lot in life was cause for neither shame nor pride. Life was as it was. And they lived as children did.
"And here I am to ruin it all." Lorette thought bitterly.
Children were easier to mold than their older counterparts. And their parents were easy to sway if there was a possibility that they could climb their way out of poverty. Lorette provided the rope they'd need to do so.
Under the guise of an anonymous benefactor and several puppet charities, Lorette had spent years erecting schools and youth centers in the most poverty-stricken areas of Central. It was there that local children were taught, trained, and closely evaluated. Those that excelled, especially those who hinted at the development of Potentiality, were further assessed for theoretical usefulness to the Albino Tigers. They'd be watched and guided closely. An unseen hand directing them towards a future that would best fill the Tiger's coffers.
The children who fell short of expectations, well...at least they got a good education out of it. So in all, it wasn't a complete loss.
That is what Lorette told herself every time she made one of these trips. In the end, she was helping these kids. That a life among the Albino Tigers was better was far better than what they might have to look forward to without her intervention. Even the less capable were still granted opportunities they would never have otherwise.
It was what the woman had to tell herself, lest she think too long and hard about the futures of their choosing, that she'd denied those children. They became cannon fodder in a war that'd started before their birth and waged for longer than they'd lived. These children would either be shuffled into the endless ranks of lackeys and drones that kept the Western District running, or they'd become meat for the grinder to further the violence between the four gangs. Lorette had long since become used to taking lives, to denying people the right to a future. But taking from children was beneath even her.
"But I still do it anyway."
Lorette closed her eyes and exhaled loudly. The cold could numb the woman to her misgivings. Those were simply things she'd have to live with, as always. The woman opened her eyes and trailed her gaze over the courtyard. She did not linger too long on anyone as that would draw attention. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to build anything in the area yet.
"I'll hang here for a bit and get a feel for the area. I'm pretty sure this one's a dead end, but the night is still young." She mused.
Roda the Red
Last edited:
thebigfella
B all N all
Shishido Takakazu
SCENE:
Reaching The Heavens From Hell (Pre-Arc 3)
LOCATION:
Tourist & Casino District, West District
PARTICIPANTS:
Shishido Takakazu, Sylvie Slezák (
WhiskeyMarten
)
WhiskeyMarten
)
Last edited:
Horror
..........
Faelan Bryne
SCENE:
Shadow On The Line
TIME:
Pre Arc 1 - February 2020
LOCATION:
Reinhart Home, South District
PARTICIPANTS:
Callista Reinhart @W I N T E R
Caffeine_Obsessed
Lost: Marbles
NIKOLAI NOVAK
SCENE:
Unforeseen Sham
TIME:
7:26 PM || August 12, 2020 || Pre-arc 1
LOCATION:
Nikolai's walk-in Armoire, North District
PARTICIPANTS:
Nikolai, Damian
tityanya
Queen of Moonlight
𝑵𝒂𝒐𝒎𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐
𝔸𝕤: 𝕆𝕞𝕚
I am here: Serpents HQ𝔸𝕤: 𝕆𝕞𝕚
With: Tri
Scene: Coolness as a Rule
Time: Wednesday, November 3rd, 2021 || Post Arc-2
"You know once I start, I cannot help myself"
≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎
Naomi stared at the letter in her hand, scrutinizing it for the thousandth time. Simple and to the point, a summons to go meet Tri, the new King. It wasn't the first time she met with Tri one-on-one. But the nerves were eating away at her--and she knew why. It was that last sentence of that simple summon--"p.s. Be Cool." She and Tri had met up last week. Paris had given Naomi a new assignment--impersonate the new King in social events that he couldn't be bothered to go to. It was...a lot, to be honest. Naomi avoided impersonating any of her fellow serpents. It was already hard to get people to trust her due to the nature of her potential, and her job. She didn't need to make it worse by masquerading as them. But now, here she was, with an official job to impersonate another serpent. And not just any serpent. The KING. It was a lot of faith and trust in her, which left Naomi flattered. She could very easily abuse this new position of "power." But she wasn't willing to risk her place in the serpents. Impressing the king with doing a good job meant that she could gain favor and genuine power. She needed to do well.
To say that she was nervous at their meeting last week would be an understatement. She had known Tri for years, known his mannerisms and his appearance down to a T. But she was stiff. She was being too formal and she knew it. It didn't help that when she asked for advice, Tri had only said to "be cooler." What did that even mean? Different people had different ideas of cool. Their meeting last week had ended with failure on Naomi's part. She wasn't cool. Whatever "cool" was. So when she got the summons with that little p.s....well, to say that it panicked her was an understatement. Should she be her own idea of cool? Whatever she thought Tri's idea of cool was? Noam was her coolest persona, and she debated if she felt up to going to the meeting as him. But no, that wouldn't be right. Noam was her own personal freedom, she didn't want to get him mixed up in Serpent business. Nao was best for a formal dinner meeting, but that be cool message made Naomi hesitate. She would have to be Omi, the in-between of the two.
But that wasn't the only thing Naomi was stuck on. Now, she was staring at her little mattress, covered in various outfits. Should she go more formal? More casual? What was cool? Naomi bit at her thumb as she glanced at the time on her phone. 6pm. That wasn't nearly enough time. She had the commute to get there on time, so it was less than two hours. She had showered, but her hair was just hanging around her shoulders, and no make-up was done. Maybe she shouldn't have eaten that edible when she woke up. She was only just now even starting to somewhat come down from the high. She just wanted something to make her a little less nervous, but she might have gone overboard. Naomi sighed, before closing her eyes and spinning her hand in a circle, finger outstretched. When she opened her eyes, her finger was pointed at a leather skirt and top. Yeah, that would work.
Naomi sped through the streets, one hand on the wheel and one hand biting at her nail. It was a bad habit, she knew, but when she could just...regrow the fingernail, what did it really matter? She had left way later than she had wanted. If she was lucky, she could get there exactly on time. She just needed the person in front of her TO ACTUALLY GO THE SPEED LIMIT! Five under, like some kind of coward. Naomi always took this road at 20 over. She hadn't crashed yet. In fact, she was pretty sure she could go a lot faster before she even felt like she was going to crash. She'd have to try it sometime when the street was more empty. The most dangerous thing about driving is the other drivers, after all Naomi thought, as the road widened just slightly enough that she could race past Mr. Slow and not hit the curb.
Naomi pulled into park with just minutes to spare. She ran-walked to the HQ entrance, making it inside just as her phone began to ring with an alarm. 8pm meeting! the screen read as she dismissed the alarm. Naomi scanned the lobby, ignoring the guards as she sighted Tri, reading a newspaper. Ah, he was such a cute old man with his turtleneck and useless glasses. At the very least, Naomi thought they were useless, as he didn't normally wear glasses. He probably thought they made him look cooler. Naomi snorted at the thought, before approaching him with a click click click of her heels. How formal should she be? He thought she was too formal last week, right? "Hey, Tri. Ready for dinner?" She asked, absent-mindedly fussing with her hair to make sure it was still placed correctly in her bun.
≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎
Naomi stared at the letter in her hand, scrutinizing it for the thousandth time. Simple and to the point, a summons to go meet Tri, the new King. It wasn't the first time she met with Tri one-on-one. But the nerves were eating away at her--and she knew why. It was that last sentence of that simple summon--"p.s. Be Cool." She and Tri had met up last week. Paris had given Naomi a new assignment--impersonate the new King in social events that he couldn't be bothered to go to. It was...a lot, to be honest. Naomi avoided impersonating any of her fellow serpents. It was already hard to get people to trust her due to the nature of her potential, and her job. She didn't need to make it worse by masquerading as them. But now, here she was, with an official job to impersonate another serpent. And not just any serpent. The KING. It was a lot of faith and trust in her, which left Naomi flattered. She could very easily abuse this new position of "power." But she wasn't willing to risk her place in the serpents. Impressing the king with doing a good job meant that she could gain favor and genuine power. She needed to do well.
To say that she was nervous at their meeting last week would be an understatement. She had known Tri for years, known his mannerisms and his appearance down to a T. But she was stiff. She was being too formal and she knew it. It didn't help that when she asked for advice, Tri had only said to "be cooler." What did that even mean? Different people had different ideas of cool. Their meeting last week had ended with failure on Naomi's part. She wasn't cool. Whatever "cool" was. So when she got the summons with that little p.s....well, to say that it panicked her was an understatement. Should she be her own idea of cool? Whatever she thought Tri's idea of cool was? Noam was her coolest persona, and she debated if she felt up to going to the meeting as him. But no, that wouldn't be right. Noam was her own personal freedom, she didn't want to get him mixed up in Serpent business. Nao was best for a formal dinner meeting, but that be cool message made Naomi hesitate. She would have to be Omi, the in-between of the two.
But that wasn't the only thing Naomi was stuck on. Now, she was staring at her little mattress, covered in various outfits. Should she go more formal? More casual? What was cool? Naomi bit at her thumb as she glanced at the time on her phone. 6pm. That wasn't nearly enough time. She had the commute to get there on time, so it was less than two hours. She had showered, but her hair was just hanging around her shoulders, and no make-up was done. Maybe she shouldn't have eaten that edible when she woke up. She was only just now even starting to somewhat come down from the high. She just wanted something to make her a little less nervous, but she might have gone overboard. Naomi sighed, before closing her eyes and spinning her hand in a circle, finger outstretched. When she opened her eyes, her finger was pointed at a leather skirt and top. Yeah, that would work.
Naomi sped through the streets, one hand on the wheel and one hand biting at her nail. It was a bad habit, she knew, but when she could just...regrow the fingernail, what did it really matter? She had left way later than she had wanted. If she was lucky, she could get there exactly on time. She just needed the person in front of her TO ACTUALLY GO THE SPEED LIMIT! Five under, like some kind of coward. Naomi always took this road at 20 over. She hadn't crashed yet. In fact, she was pretty sure she could go a lot faster before she even felt like she was going to crash. She'd have to try it sometime when the street was more empty. The most dangerous thing about driving is the other drivers, after all Naomi thought, as the road widened just slightly enough that she could race past Mr. Slow and not hit the curb.
Naomi pulled into park with just minutes to spare. She ran-walked to the HQ entrance, making it inside just as her phone began to ring with an alarm. 8pm meeting! the screen read as she dismissed the alarm. Naomi scanned the lobby, ignoring the guards as she sighted Tri, reading a newspaper. Ah, he was such a cute old man with his turtleneck and useless glasses. At the very least, Naomi thought they were useless, as he didn't normally wear glasses. He probably thought they made him look cooler. Naomi snorted at the thought, before approaching him with a click click click of her heels. How formal should she be? He thought she was too formal last week, right? "Hey, Tri. Ready for dinner?" She asked, absent-mindedly fussing with her hair to make sure it was still placed correctly in her bun.
((ooc: ))
((outfit))
((Discipline))
Damafaud
Caffeine_Obsessed
Lost: Marbles
Yuto Nishimura
SCENE:
Accidental Rumble
TIME:
September 17, 2021 | 5:45 pm | Post Arc 1
LOCATION:
North District, In a Car
PARTICIPANTS:
Yuto, Sang-Cheol, Tri, Kaiga, Musai
Caffeine_Obsessed
Lost: Marbles
[GM] HOLDING CAGES
SCENE:
Accidental Rumble
TIME:
September 17, 2021 | 6:55 pm | Post Arc 1
LOCATION:
Holding Cages, North Underground Fight Ring
PARTICIPANTS:
Yuto, Sang-Cheol, Tri, Kaiga, Musai
Damafaud
Kitty
TRI
SCENE:
Accidental Rumble
LOCATION:
Holding Cages, North Underground Fighting Ring
TIME:
September 17, 2021 | 6:55 pm| Post Arc 1
PARTICIPANTS:
Yuto, Sang-Cheol, Tri, Kaiga, Musai
Tags:
Misuteeku
Caffeine_Obsessed
Kameron Esters-
The Crimson King
Lucem
Ten Thousand Club
Caden Howell (Isaiah Spade)
SCENE:
All that Glitters...
LOCATION:
Restaurant in the West district
TIME:
June 20th 2018
PARTICIPANTS:
Isaiah, Kaede
Sei Shonagon
tityanya
Queen of Moonlight
𝑵𝒂𝒐𝒎𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐
𝔸𝕤: 𝕆𝕞𝕚
I am here: Black Sedan on the streets𝔸𝕤: 𝕆𝕞𝕚
With: Tri, his driver
Scene: Coolness as a Rule
Time: Wednesday, November 3rd, 2021 || Post Arc-2
"You know once I start, I cannot help myself"
≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎
Tri's eyes met Naomi, and she watched impassively as he sized her up. It wouldn't be cool to look nervous. But inside, she was mentally chewing on her nail again. Was her outfit cool enough? Did it meet expectations? Had she gone overboard? When he nodded and said "cool," her eyes lit up. Approval! But besides that, she kept an impassive stance, only nodding in response. Cool people didn't get excited about being acknowledged as cool, because there was never any doubt in their heads. Tri went to fold up his newspaper, but disaster struck. Naomi wasn't even entirely sure what had just happened--one second, the newspaper was in Tri's hand, the next second it was scattered in pieces on the floor. Naomi stifled a laugh, not for the sake of looking cool, but for the sake of not being seen laughing at The King. It was hard going with Tri and the guards pretending that nothing had happened. It was the residual effects of her fading high, she knew logically, but for some reason this experience was the funniest thing she had ever experienced. And she must not laugh.
Tri texted something on his phone, and then said to Naomi that it was time to go. She nodded again, trying desperately to stamp off the smirk from her withheld laughter. She could laugh in the car. She followed Tri out of the building, towards the black sedan that was waiting. She let out a laugh now, now that she was out of sight of the guards. "Sorry Tri, thought of something funny I saw earlier," she lied easily, following him towards the car. Their driver was dressed in a suit and tie, and he looked incredibly uncomfortable. His body was all stiff, subtly tugging at his collar and wrists. Naomi subconsciously mirror the gesture, tugging at her own sleeves. She would never be caught dead looking that weak. Was this outfit comfortable? Hell no. But it looked great on her, and she was wearing it, not the other way around.
She followed Tri into the car, carefully sitting to make sure her skirt didn't expose any unwanted skin. That would be embarrassing. They sat in silence for a moment as the car took off, Tri looking blankly out the window. Did he...think that looked cool? He looked like he was staring into space, or having some kind of war flashback. But it was a Tri-ism that Naomi needed to copy, so she leaned against her own window, staring blankly at the streets as they drove. Tri spoke, laying out the itinerary for the evening. Sushi, cool. Robbing someone, how fun! Drowning someone...in a sewer? Naomi's nose wrinkled at the thought. Any questions, Tri asked? Did he actually care? "Can you do the drowning? I quite like my clothes and don't want them smelling like sewer. I can definitely lead someone into the sewer for you," Naomi tried to compromise. She knew it was a little bit of a risk, but, well...She wasn't dressed for sewer diving. She was dressed for dinner.
The car stopped at a light, and the driver pulled out his phone. Naomi's eyebrow quirked. If a driver for her father had done that...well, that would be the last time he had ever driven for the family. But his body language froze up, and he tentatively spoke. The sushi bar was an hour's drive away. Naomi snickered, hiding her mouth behind her hand, hoping that it would muffle the sound. It was just like Tri to think of a place but not how long it took to get there. She'd have to keep that thought in mind. Random, last minute choices that weren't always feasible. Tri pointed at a taco truck instead, the owner putting away foldable chairs and tables. Naomi caught the driver's exasperated eyes in the rearview, and laughed again. Today just wasn't his day, was it?
The car pulled into the parking lot, and Tri turned to Naomi. What did she think? Naomi glanced again at the taco truck, nearly all packed away. "I think that the only reason a taco truck would close this early is because they've run out of food. But, if they've run out of food, they probably have a lot of money on hand," Naomi answered, emphasizing the word money with a twinkle in her eye. The driver seemed to have caught her drift as well, since she saw him exit the car gun in hand. "Life is all about improvisation. You don't mind doing your itinerary a little out of order, do you?"
≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎
Tri's eyes met Naomi, and she watched impassively as he sized her up. It wouldn't be cool to look nervous. But inside, she was mentally chewing on her nail again. Was her outfit cool enough? Did it meet expectations? Had she gone overboard? When he nodded and said "cool," her eyes lit up. Approval! But besides that, she kept an impassive stance, only nodding in response. Cool people didn't get excited about being acknowledged as cool, because there was never any doubt in their heads. Tri went to fold up his newspaper, but disaster struck. Naomi wasn't even entirely sure what had just happened--one second, the newspaper was in Tri's hand, the next second it was scattered in pieces on the floor. Naomi stifled a laugh, not for the sake of looking cool, but for the sake of not being seen laughing at The King. It was hard going with Tri and the guards pretending that nothing had happened. It was the residual effects of her fading high, she knew logically, but for some reason this experience was the funniest thing she had ever experienced. And she must not laugh.
Tri texted something on his phone, and then said to Naomi that it was time to go. She nodded again, trying desperately to stamp off the smirk from her withheld laughter. She could laugh in the car. She followed Tri out of the building, towards the black sedan that was waiting. She let out a laugh now, now that she was out of sight of the guards. "Sorry Tri, thought of something funny I saw earlier," she lied easily, following him towards the car. Their driver was dressed in a suit and tie, and he looked incredibly uncomfortable. His body was all stiff, subtly tugging at his collar and wrists. Naomi subconsciously mirror the gesture, tugging at her own sleeves. She would never be caught dead looking that weak. Was this outfit comfortable? Hell no. But it looked great on her, and she was wearing it, not the other way around.
She followed Tri into the car, carefully sitting to make sure her skirt didn't expose any unwanted skin. That would be embarrassing. They sat in silence for a moment as the car took off, Tri looking blankly out the window. Did he...think that looked cool? He looked like he was staring into space, or having some kind of war flashback. But it was a Tri-ism that Naomi needed to copy, so she leaned against her own window, staring blankly at the streets as they drove. Tri spoke, laying out the itinerary for the evening. Sushi, cool. Robbing someone, how fun! Drowning someone...in a sewer? Naomi's nose wrinkled at the thought. Any questions, Tri asked? Did he actually care? "Can you do the drowning? I quite like my clothes and don't want them smelling like sewer. I can definitely lead someone into the sewer for you," Naomi tried to compromise. She knew it was a little bit of a risk, but, well...She wasn't dressed for sewer diving. She was dressed for dinner.
The car stopped at a light, and the driver pulled out his phone. Naomi's eyebrow quirked. If a driver for her father had done that...well, that would be the last time he had ever driven for the family. But his body language froze up, and he tentatively spoke. The sushi bar was an hour's drive away. Naomi snickered, hiding her mouth behind her hand, hoping that it would muffle the sound. It was just like Tri to think of a place but not how long it took to get there. She'd have to keep that thought in mind. Random, last minute choices that weren't always feasible. Tri pointed at a taco truck instead, the owner putting away foldable chairs and tables. Naomi caught the driver's exasperated eyes in the rearview, and laughed again. Today just wasn't his day, was it?
The car pulled into the parking lot, and Tri turned to Naomi. What did she think? Naomi glanced again at the taco truck, nearly all packed away. "I think that the only reason a taco truck would close this early is because they've run out of food. But, if they've run out of food, they probably have a lot of money on hand," Naomi answered, emphasizing the word money with a twinkle in her eye. The driver seemed to have caught her drift as well, since she saw him exit the car gun in hand. "Life is all about improvisation. You don't mind doing your itinerary a little out of order, do you?"
((ooc: ))
((outfit))
((Discipline))
Damafaud
Misuteeku
The One Who Tries
Last edited:
Sei Shonagon
lord of the flies
Misuteeku
The One Who Tries
WhiskeyMarten
Porcine, not humine.
HECTOR MOSES
CS Link
SCENE:
Beginner's Guide To Housekeeping
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1 - Dusk, August 2019
LOCATION:
Near the North-Central Major Bridge, Upper Central
PARTICIPANTS:
Hector, Yukari
Omi, Takaonna, Tri
Omi, Takaonna, Tri
Astrylan
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CS Link
SCENE:
Beginner's Guide To Housekeeping
TIME:
Pre-Arc 1 - Dusk, August 2019
LOCATION:
Near the North-Central Major Bridge, Upper Central
PARTICIPANTS:
Hector, Yukari, Naomi, Takaonna, Tri
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AriAriAbabwa
Don't lose Ari~♪ Shine bright Ari~♪
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The House Always Wins
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miki
@joshuadim @Uasal
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TIME:
December 18th, 2021 | Post-Arc 2
PARTICIPANTS:
Sebastian Se, Julian Midgley
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