[OPEN] Standing on the cliff face, highest fall you'll ever grace

[totallytrustworthy]

Date & Time: various; post zombie madness
Location: Places
Characters: Chloe Frazer and YOU-- or at least we all hope it's you in there
Summary: last boarding call for the S.S. Disaster of the Century (viva la revolution)
Warnings: copious amounts of Robin Hooditis

 

A: Cafeteria

[She doesn't much care for the idea of borrowing anything when supplies are scarce. Doesn't like the thought that this is-- for the moment-- all they've got left. But plans are plans, and change is necessary, and nothing in this world (or any other for that matter) comes without a cost. If they mean to hole themselves up long enough for negotiations to leave them all in a better state than the one they're in right now, then spare packets of food and water are more necessity than nicety.

Still, doesn't make the pill go down any easier; Chloe spends more time hovering near the kitchens than what's appropriate for anyone that isn't Gordon Ramsay. Might be worth looking into, honestly.]

B: Corridors; farther away from housing

[And the damage isn't as noticeable as it ought to be, (years of abandonment means the base already looks a half step away from collapsing like a house of cards) but considering she'd rather not experience what it's like getting sucked out into the endless vacuum that is our known universe any time soon, Chloe's quick to lend a hand wherever it's needed amongst the more battle scarred sections of the station. Sure, she's exhausted-- looks the part, sporting a good layer of salt and dust that's been there since the start of the undead fiasco-- but the sooner they get the base back into (relatively) good shape, the sooner she'll feel secure enough to sleep like a proper human being.

If it takes hammering at a few panels for that to be a reality, count her in.]

C: Housing

[Supplies seen to for the moment, holes patched up and wiring duct taped together, Chloe's just about done. The past week hasn't been kind, the past year hasn't stopped digging in under her skin: she's spent. Walks like one of the staggering dead they'd just spent all they've got in them to kill off, on a mission to just get through that last bloody section of the station to hibernate so hard they'll have to hire a prince to wake her up.

So it's safe to say she's not really watching where she's going, arms full up with pilfered foodstuffs and scrap-- and it's also safe to say she won't appreciate any incoming distractions. Or collisions.]



---



[ooc: Use whatever format you like-- and if none of these prompts suit you, feel free to create one of your own! Chloe's out and about and prone to dozing off in a few inappropriate spots for impromptu naps; it's a terrible habit someone should do something about it.]
 

Comments

c, time to give Charlie nightmares

[hyanaimne]

[it's safe to say she's exhausted; spending all that time out there fighting zombies meant she'd used up her magic and then some, and between that and the physical fighting she did, she's practically a walking zombie herself. She doesn't want to sit down and rest just yet - she'll end up passing out for the rest of the bloody day if she does, and she should at least eat something.

So, it's safe to say she isn't really paying attention to where she's going either, when she walks right into Chloe. It startles her enough that she lets out a hissed curse and tries to catch whatever she just knocked out of Chloe's hands]

Bloody—I am sorry, are you alright?

Everything that delights me in life tbh

[totallytrustworthy]

[It's a hard jolt she doesn't need-- a mess she'd rather not have on her hands just minutes from just a moderately uncomfortable excuse for a mattress that might as well be Shangri-la-- but Chloe takes it in stride, edge of her newly freed up hand digging into the bone of her right eye socket while she presses out a patient, steady sigh. Leaving Tempest to grab at the spilled packets of food might not be her usual deal, but for the moment stooping over seems like miles of effort.]

Yeah, no, fine. No worries, darling. [A beat too long before she adds] Didn't catch you in the ribs there, did I?

C

[taggingwomprats]

[Luke's no stranger to exhaustion. He's pretty much a zombie himself, all things considered. He's spent the last few days fighting the infection and then catching brief snatches of sleep whenever and where ever he can. Plus he's been trying to help repair all the damage, so much like Chloe, he's almost dead on his feet.

Which is aside from the prepwork he's been trying to do for their little rebellion - he's been stockpiling food and water and mechanical parts as much as he can without endangering everyone around him. He's got that look about him, though - thousand-yard stare, the whole nine yards - and he almost runs into her before he manages to catch himself.]

Whoa! Sorry, I'm just - oh, hey Chloe.

[Fancy meeting you here.]

[totallytrustworthy]

[Talk about needing the Force for a little 20/20 vision. Still, the near collision does a good deal to snap her back to her senses, short burst of adrenaline running through her veins when she goes to wave it off-- and finds the small comfort of familiar company instead.]

Scared me half to death, mate. [He earns himself a quick once over; Jesus, Luke.] And you look halfway there already. You're not about to give out on me, are you?

B

[charming_jerk]

[Johnny looks as exhausted and beaten as everyone else, which is unusual for him - his supernatural stamina usually has him raring to go. But mental exhaustion can be just as bad as physical. Right now, mindless tasks sound like a good idea to him, and he's working away in one of the corridors, reinforcing the walls and floors with whatever spare metal and bolts they have. He looks up when he hears someone approaching.]

Hey. Here to help?

[totallytrustworthy]

Got it in one. [She might be joking, but god, it's a bit hard to tell when they're all stretched about as thin as it gets. Her tools are stuck back in a crater on earth; it means she needs to slink in close to even start lending a hand with whatever he's got on hand.] What's the problem?

A

[crossbearing]

( Unusual behavior, her favorite.

Helena's just in civvies, now, as she moves towards Chloe. ) Is it really that hard to choose between green jello and protein bars?

( Even her voice is different, more traces of Sicily than the harsh Gotham of the Huntress. )

[totallytrustworthy]

[Which means it takes Chloe a good moment to recognize who's sneaking up on her and-- Jesus, Helena, give her a bloody heart attack why don't you?]

Aha. Cute. Nice to see you've got a face under that mask of yours.

--How on earth do you get it to stay on, by the way? [Subject change? Subject change. Divert, divert.]

C

[originalgaangster]

[ Sokka's not much better off than anyone else at the moment. He's dead tired after a few days of scrambling around doing everything he can to help and trying to keep people safe. It's been exhausting, really. He's looking forward to some real rest as he staggers down the hallway. He seems a bit more aware than Chloe, though, and pauses to rest up against one of the walls as she sees her coming. Still, the instinct to be a nice guy is still there--]

You want some help with that stuff?

[totallytrustworthy]

[ He's young. It's the first thing she notices when his question earns her attention, but it's not what colors her opinion of him. Live long enough as a thief-- start young enough at that-- and age doesn't mean much at the end of the day. She's not about to turn away a much needed offer.] It's not much, but sure. Thanks. Suppose after the week we've had I should be glad it's not a whole bloody crate full of nonsense.

A

[theflyingone]

[ Chloe isn't the only one hovering around the kitchens. A hooded man in white robes is strange-looking enough, but he manages to appear unobtrusive, blending in. He's not up to anything, not at all... In this case, he really isn't. For once, he's not eavesdropping or pickpocketing or spying on others in the name of peace and freedom. He's simply getting something to eat.

Altaïr has heard rumor of countertop devices that can heat food without fire. The kitchen's ovens are just as much a mystery, with dangerous looking buttons. There is no good tinder or firewood on the moon, and cold food gets tiring after a while. He's assassinated powerful officials in his own world and survived space zombies here, but he can't figure out the buttons on a microwave.

He experimentally presses the Arabic numerals with calloused fingers. At least these, a holdover from his own native language, are somewhat decipherable. But the English used here is spelled and pronounced quite differently than that of the 12th century. Even using the tablet's translation capabilities yields cryptic words such as auto defrost, popcorn, and gel pack. ]

[totallytrustworthy]

It's not gonna bite you, mate. [ Chloe's not far off, given that she was just helping herself to whatever the far cabinets might have left inside (hint: nothing) and if it wasn't for the microwave beeping she honestly might not've spotted him at all. It's a peculiar scene, but she's doing her best to make sure her tone's even and sincere-- at least enough so that she's not broadcasting the fact that she's laughing (gently) on the inside.]

a!

[lexiconning]

[ Syllona isn't really one to come up to complete strangers doing strange things, but it's pretty obvious what's going on. For awhile, she doesn't even do anything about it either, keeping her eyes on her meal and off the woman at the kitchen. It's only when putting so much effort into ignoring it backfires and she begins to think -- supplies are limited, and she can recall what it's like when there isn't much to go around. They aren't happy memories.

When the few other people about the cafeteria make their leave, she comes over, slow, stopping just a yard off to stare at Chloe, frowny and quiet. ]

[totallytrustworthy]

[Oh boy. It's not exactly a discreet task, scavenging. She could've waited till it was dark, but there are more than enough excuses as to why rooting around in the kitchens for supplies is a necessary course of action.

And that eerie feeling at the back of your neck? The one you get when a pair of eyes are burning their way right into the back of your neck? She's totally getting that right about now-- just before she turns to spot Syllona giving her one impressive stare.]

Jesus, darling. Tell me you don't make a habit of pulling the whole children of the corn routine.

B

[deadlybanker]

[It was the port hole showing the view of the Earth far below that held Giovanni's attention... or rather already having spent many hours staring down at that globe it was the reflection of the transporter room door in the background that he truly watched. Still to any passing by the gentleman in Renaissance styled clothing would seem to be little more than fascinated by the vast space just outside the window.
But others were busy with repairs and the hammering of a steel plate into place could not go ignored. It was loud and reverberated down the long corridor.
He cast a final look back at the door before stepping away from the portal and over to the young lady so hard at work. ]

Mi scusi, how long have you been at this?

[From where he stood a clear view of her face was not possible but the poor lady wore nearly as many layers of dirt as the clutter in the hallway. ]

[totallytrustworthy]

[The pounding continues for a few more beats-- hammered out quite literally-- till the thick sheet of mangled metal pinned up against the wall looks like it stands at least a somewhat decent chance of staying put. From there she wipes her forearm across her face (which does her the favor of making everything worse) before settling back on her heels to respond, casually:] Non molto tempo.

[It's not until she bothers to glance off in his direction that she realizes he's not just out of place like the rest of them-- he's out of her bloody league. Christ, she's hitting the 'rude to ancient nobility lottery' this month.] Oh god. Sorry. Long week - wasn't paying attention.

a

[reversemole]

( finally, he had the luxury to go a little window-shopping when stealing supplies.

it hadn't been a luxury before. each moment of kaji's early life dealt with issues either related to breaking into mass cafeterias or trying to fend of guards with a sack of rocks. and for a while, he had eased into that routine - extremely well, in fact. yet, all of the sudden, the war was over, he'd received a moderately-sized golden handshake, he was pulled out of one universe for one reason or another, and...

...and he still found himself shelving through a food warehouse.

this time around, it's for nostalgia's stake. crouched in a dark corner surrounded by emptied cardboard boxes, he takes the time he wished he had back when he was nothing but a dirty punk. the process of browsing through the packets outlining the same flavor of instant oatmeal had left him firmly convinced that 'multifariousness' was something unique to earth-dwelling creatures. something about the smell from some of these items suggested that they deserved an express delivery to the junkyard.

beggars can't be choosers, was how the saying goes. prisoner beggars weren't even given a choice. it's enough to make him smile to himself. )

Nothing like a little variety to keep things interesting.

[totallytrustworthy]

With this selection? [Amazing how well the closed in space carries her voice: almost makes it seem like she's at his back rather than across the room, but even propped up against the adjacent counter top Chloe has a prime view of what he's up to.

Not that hard to guess anyway, being a kitchen and all.] You'll be lucky if you don't die of boredom within the next hour.

c;

[the_human]

[Good thing Finn totally isn't going to run into her, then! Instead he leaps out of the way with a shout and stares up at her.]

Hey! Gimmie some of that, you need help!

omg :')

[totallytrustworthy]

[Good god that's a fresh dose of adrenaline coursing through her system thanks to Finn's impressively enthusiastic shout. Give her a second to catch her breath, and she's blinking down in his direction.] Sure. All right. [Which isn't much of a response (not much in the way of shown gratitude, either) as she goes to pass off supplies, but it's just--]

You've a surprising amount of energy for someone that's pulled through the week we just had.

b.

[firstroar]

[he's moving out of necessity; to stand still is to let the guilt of age and idling settle and begin crushing him again.

even if she isn't here, he has to move forward. that's what she'd wish.

that purposeful movement is–]

Hh–!

[–distracting him from quickly avoiding getting plowed into by an over-encumbered passer-by.

look. all the moody movement in the world isn't a replacement for eyes.]

[totallytrustworthy]

--shit. [It's not directed at him, just the collision itself, but Christ, the sting from going right into that literal run-in has her nearly staggered surrounded by the packets of food and water, and a mess of scattered electronic junk.]

God, that's one way to end the day. You okay?

b

[boughtabookstore]

[ It's been some time since she saw Chloe - though she hadn't been particularly on the outlook, busy and wrapped up and it was understandable that everyone was, she hadn't seen several people lately.

But it does mean when she spots Chloe carrying a thing from tools from one section to another she lengthens her stride to catch up to her, says her name once she's relatively close. ]

Chloe. How are you?

whyyyyyyy

[totallytrustworthy]

[Always with that impeccable sense of timing, Roslyn. It prompts memories of New Mexico and one heavy case of liquor, one lengthy discussion of alignment and what it meant for the both of them. Which-- at the time-- ended well. Really well, actually, considering their professions. But back in those days Chloe wasn't plotting to snatch the rug right out from under the Initiative's heel (not actively, anyway) and stealing a case of alcohol doesn't quite line up with stealing a bloody transporter.

Hard to imagine what the captain of the guard would say if she knew what Chloe was really up to.] Oh fantastic, actually. Just got back from a vacation in Malibu - trying to figure out where to hang the souvenirs. [Sarcasm: never overrated.]

A!

[pixieboots]

[ It's something that filters into his peripheral first, that there's a lady hanging out in front of the kitchen. He's noticed her and then let her slip right back out of his field of concentration once already, while he's gone back to winding miniature coils back into the acid capsules. It takes concentration, and for now it's taking his head away from places he doesn't want it now. He clicks the last one back together, and when he looks up again that's when it dawns on him that she's still there. That whatever she's after is either good enough to wait for or maybe (possibly) dangerous.

He approaches from behind, hands in pockets, posture quiet and unassuming. ]

Hey. You get lost or something?

[totallytrustworthy]

[ The interruption doesn't startle (or if it does she certainly doesn't show it) and Chloe tucks a few fingers down low into the bottom of her pockets when she turns on her heel to catch a glimpse of whoever's caught her in the midst of a (very rare) moral dilemma.

All right, dilemma's a strong word, but the last thing she ought to be doing is loitering at a time like this; there are Ts that need crossing on nearly every last page of their plan. Leaving Charlie to manage it is...well, it's just a dick move.]

Mm? Oh, no. Just considering how much we've got left right about now. You know, to eat.

a | the latest of late, deal with it

[wolfskin]

[ Robb ventures to stretch his legs, to stretch Grey Wind's legs, more so than to satisfy his stomach. their stay in this base has been making it harder for the direwolf to settle and by extension Robb himself, queerly sharing some of his wolf's discontent these days. so he determined to fill the space with walks embarking on different routes as much as possible, an exercise for their bodies only but it is better than remaining idle.

it is chance that he and Grey Wind wander into the cafeteria, the direwolf trotting ahead of him and over to Chloe with every intention on nosing into her business. he can smell the garbage that passes for food, what do you expect? ]

ok c:

[totallytrustworthy]

[And it's an unexpected intrusion from anyone, let alone a massive, panting wolf with teeth the size of--] Oh dear god. [Chloe steps back a pace or two, locking up stiffly, arms folded across her chest.]