You're all my friends

[totallytrustworthy]

Date & Time: Before groundhogging it or after depending on preference
Location: Exsilium proper/ wilderness/ various
Characters: Chloe Frazer and you as a fond farewell
Summary: a year and a half of thievery and trouble hits its last few notes
Warnings: VIOLENCE some of it

A: E x s i l i u m 

She's back to normal now. Residual lacquer stuck to her nails, hair still neatly trimmed at the edges and her trousers aren't the dirt-stained mess left behind of a little over a year's worth of close calls and fire fights, but she is herself again, and whatever magic that Facilier had carefully stuck in under her skin with a few nice words and a friendly gesture have-- for the most part-- been shaken off. Which is to say it's almost dysphoric having to readjust after being recalibrated so completely that even her old routines and habits feel unfamiliar: walking to the market to trade off another batch of heavy (only slightly roughed-up) furs is something more akin to watching video of the ground shifting forward, of footsteps in the snow and crowds filtering off out of focus.

Doesn't feel like there's weight in her arms or the sting of bitter cold on her cheeks.

Doesn't even feel like she's capable of recognizing any of the familiar faces she passes-- and she does pass them: without a second thought or even the uncertain shift of her attention that comes from purposefully dodging someone close.

How bloody rude. Particularly when she's not careful enough to keep from clipping the occasional passerby.


B: E x s i l i u m   w i l d s

This, though. This is where she flourishes. These days, anyway. After too much time spent snagged on emotions and vital decisions, solitude and silent snowfall are more comforting than things like central heating or idle banter. Simple tasks are easy to fixate on (pull wire, wrap twig, bend branch, insert bait and wait), numbing pinpricks running just under layers of insulated clothing precede pain from too many hours of it spent out in the cold. Veins going tight in an effort to cling to any remaining heat. Unappealing, unattractive, inhospitable work.

And Chloe's smiling to herself through the chilled cracks of her frost-split lip as she goes about it.

Not that most people would feel right at home in a yeti-infested wilderness.

C: Wildcard

OOC: pick a different scenario or location, whichever suits you best, and we'll make it happen!



 

Comments

A

[changeitroundsome]

Facilier often heads into town, searching for supplies. After all, voodoo charms don't magic themselves out of nowhere. He has to work on getting the right ingredients together, first. He glances up, flashing a smile at Chloe. It hardly matters to him if she's back to normal or not, he ultimately got what he wanted from her.

"Nice day for it, ain't it?"

[totallytrustworthy]

It's almost a shame how quickly the heavy furs are shifted off to one hand (the other dropped to the low point of her spine for the .45 she keeps tucked away) and subsequently dropped the moment his voice registers.

"You son of a bitch," If he cares to keep the barrel of her pistol away, there are a few seconds left to spare as she levels it towards the line of his brow. "You set me up."

[changeitroundsome]

He does not appreciate the gun being aimed at him, and his usual smile twists into a dangerous scowl, for just a second. He raises his cane up, tapping her arm away from him, it''s not a hard whack, by any accounts, just enough to get that gun aimed away from his head. He'd rather not beat her with his cane, but he keeps it raised between them just in case, to act as both barrier and subtle warning.

"Such violence ain't necessary," he says pointedly, that smile coming back once more. "And I did no such thing. I gave y'all exactly what you asked of me."

[totallytrustworthy]

"Bullshit." Much as the slap on the wrist might sting it's hardly a deterrent, and his warning-- the thought of getting into a scuffle's more encouraging at this point-- doesn't keep her from eagerly angling it in again. At a distance, at least this time. "Don't you dare try to play that game when I've got your bloody cue cards in my back pocket."

She repeats it again, teeth gritted, jaw clenched. "You set me up."

C, starting as text, because, lol...

[mathematician]

This is what insanity really felt like. He was doing the same things, over and over again, somehow expecting them to wind up different the next day. Days were really just blurring together as well, and he's feeling nostalgic for such simple things. Like flowers. And balloons. Were unicorns ever real? He misses those too, regardless.

Wow, it's a real mental dissonance when one can tell they're going mad. Better text someone to let them know he's going mad so maybe they can get him a straight jacket sooner rather than later.

Hey.

Uh.

Haven't spoke to you in a while. Just wanted to say hi.

n o p e

[totallytrustworthy]

[It almost stings, getting a reminder like that from out of the blue, something to jog her almost antiquated memories at this point.]

christ mate it has

sorry for the delay I was

busy

[To put it lightly.] how goes it over there? run out of liquor yet?

dont you nope me.

[mathematician]

Don't act like it's your fault or anything, I could have messaged you earlier too.

I've been out of any sort of depressant for a while now. The walls had started melting. I figured I should stop.

[No really. He started hallucinating a bit. Kind of was concerning, he had to have Vennett reassure him multiple times that his computer wasn't talking back to him. ...Maybe he shouldn't tell this to Chloe.]

That's a joke.

Sort of.

Point is, hello! How are you! How's busy been?

B, I am sorry

[hyanaimne]

The yetis she could do without, but traipsing through the forest, hunting, scavenging, just getting a feel for nature - that's right down Tempest's alley. She hates the cold, of course, but she's grown used to it. So much so that she's outside far more often than she spends inside.

It's why she's right at home, sat high up in a tree working on a trap. She isn't the greatest at them - being a vegetarian meant she didn't need to hunt, but she had learned from her uncle anyway, and this was good practice. That, and she had a few people she had offered to feed. She was the type to make sure that she held up her end of that.

She pauses, though, as she watches Chloe pass underneath her tree, and raises both eyebrows. She could call down to her, or . . . she could scoop some snow off a nearby branch, pat it together, and toss it at Chloe's retreating back.

That was the adult way to greet someone, isn't it?

I am not <3

[totallytrustworthy]

It ought to be obvious what's pelted her in the back, but layers of fur and fabric and the added bonus of a lack of visuals means she's too alert and wary for all of ten seconds while she spins on her heel to--

Oh.

"Oh." More of a groan than anything else, spotting spattered snowfall like a bloody trail leading her attention right back to the space Tempest's currently occupying. Guilty party.

Hope you're ready for a scolding look in place of a lecture, Tempest.

[hyanaimne]

If the scolding look is supposed to do anything, Tempest either ignores it or it has no effect on her. Really, all it does is make her grin widely, the sort of shit-eating grin that's just asking for trouble.

"Hello, darling." She calls down to her. She'd try for innocence, but it never really works for her.

A

[taggingwomprats]

Luke'sm oving through the hustle and bustle (well, as busy as the city gets), without paying too much attention. He's lost in his own thoughts, trying to sort out what he's going to do next, what they're going to do and how the Hell this is all going to work when he clips someone, quite by accident. He glances up, startled, and then his face breaks into a smile, "Chloe!"

The smile fades after a moment. He's not that great at reading much beyond surface emotions, but even he can feel the negative emotions rolling off of her.

"What's wrong?"

Luuuke I have missed them :')

[totallytrustworthy]

The bump to the shoulder isn't jarring; Chloe's quick to brush it off without a second thought till it's the sound of her own name she catches called out by an unforgettable voice. Her tension's forcibly dropped when she doubles back a step or two to greet him, genuine smile tugging at the edge of her mouth just above the fur-lined collar of her coat so in that she's at least not lying.

"Didn't even see you - sorry, darling." If not for the heavy bundle in her arms she'd go in for some amount of contact as a proper apology, a physical bandaid tacked onto the verbal one, but the hides aren't small by any means which means unless she wants to sweat a bit shouldering them off for a beat it's better to keep them right where they are.

"Mm? Oh it's these bloody furs, been shuffling them about all morning and I'm only halfway done." Part fib, part truth. Better than telling him she was a Disney princess for a month.

[taggingwomprats]

"Don't worry about it," Luke replies, almost automatically. He hasn't seen her in - what, a month or two? They've both been busy and the last time they got together, he was passing off a bottle of booze as a little gift. There's still something off and he eyes her for a moment. Really, it's none of his business if she wants to shut him out, but still...

"You want a hand with those, then?"

Luke grins and offers his arms as a depository. When in doubt, offer a helping hand.

A...ish

[cyphered]

The sound of a gunshot gets his attention more than anything else. Nate finds himself instantly on alert, pistol already drawn as he wordlessly slips out of the little tent he had been browsing in. He does his best to keep it hidden to keep from startling any of the natives as he moves, most of which are already spooked enough to be moving away from the source. Convenient, that it leads him right to the crime scene.

Well. Almost.

"Chloe--" Nate calls out, immediately glancing around for the source of aggression. Nothing. Judging by her posture and the fact that her defender isn't drawn... "What the hell was that?"

[totallytrustworthy]

She shouldn't be surprised he's turned up now rather than when she was in a panic back in some pseudo-Bornean camp, wide-eyed and disoriented from the illusions. Rather than the moment Facilier asked where her friends had been.

And when that thought settles in-- when she realizes she'd left Facilier a few paces off-- Chloe turns on Nate, gun raised, bright eyes narrowed beneath tangled strands of dark hair. "Don't you dare, I won't fall for it again."

[cyphered]

He's looked down the barrel of Chloe's gun before, but that doesn't make it any less terrifying. He raises his hands in surrender and takes a few steps back, looking bewildered.

"Hey, woah, easy--its me," Nate starts, making sure his gun is pointed upward rather than at her. "--Its Nate."

In the back of his head, part of him wonders if that's more or less incentive for her to shoot. He really needs to keep better track of his contacts.

C- I'm a Maverick

[hellosailor]

So the bar hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped.

Truth be told, people were disappearing left and right, and he'd not turned up as many takers on the job-front as he would have liked. Gave up on the restaurant idea for now, so the kitchen only got used when he could be assed to feed himself. Still, a few locals rolled in, and it gave him something to do on top of a place to live. So by three he's wiping down the counter and getting ready to unlock the doors.

And the place had cleaned up nice enough. New paint. New tables. No more crumbled walls. All the old windows replaced. Hell, he'd even bought a big old painting for over the bar, and mounted a caribou (although he'd had to buy that one). He'd put Chloe's money to good use, even if it was sparse and a little too-empty most of the time. Not really what he was hoping for.

Ah, but he was used to ventures not panning out. At least he could sell the place if it came to that.

[totallytrustworthy]

Hardly a conversation she wants to have, absolutely one that's necessary. It's been a long time-- feels like it more than it is, maybe-- since she'd seen the interior of his place: most of it she can attribute to her thoughts being written up like a script, the rest she's not so sure about. God, she'd been a dick.

"Looks good." She huffs casually, rapping at the entrance archway supporting the front doors with the back of her knuckles.

[hellosailor]

He hadn't heard her come in, truth be told he hadn't been listening to much at all. Too busy thinking about the fact that he needed a jukebox, wondering where he'd even find one in this place. Something to think about.

So the sound of her voice throws him, makes him double-take, hand fisting into the dirty rag in his hand. After a moment he managed to collect himself, tucking the cloth back under the bar.

"Chloe," he said, something like a greeting. Then he put his palms on the polished wood, braced himself against them.

"Yeah, it cleans up pretty good. A lot like myself."

The tone doesn't match the words, not quite light enough. She looked good, more like herself, but he doesn't know what that means, really. Hadn't really had much of an interest in him or this place or the jobs they shared.

"You come for a glass of wine? Maybe some fancy cheese?"

B

[miscreant]

Seviilia stays back (far far back) to watch Chloe go about her work. She had spot her before she noticed what she was doing, but it didn't exactly take rocket science to figure out once she caught her position. She doesn't have any desire to scare away the hunt, or startle the huntress herself. Its not until after something gets snared that she starts to make her way over, fully armored for the first time in a good two months with her rune circuit fully aglow and repaired as well.

"Well done, Chloe," the elf chuckles, a grin reaching her eyes that (for once) doesn't seem to hold any sort of malice. "You hunt much better than your counterpart. Has he told you that?"

Her axes are sheathed on her back (just in case), and the skinning dagger is very clearly strapped to her belt, but she carries no cargo. Not yet.

[totallytrustworthy]

She's caught game like this before. Netting hares in traps is more luck than skill on average, but technique and caution factor in to those percentages and odd as it might be to have someone praise her for it, she'll take it.

Chloe shrugs under the wide press of an easy smile. "Just don't tell him that and we'll be all right."

[miscreant]

"And miss the look on his face?" Seviilia nearly chuckles at the thought as she leans back against the nearest tree. "On second thought, perhaps you are right. I do not fancy being shot at," she admits, adjusting her footing. "Especially not by someone who knows their way around a gun."

And Sun knows she's been shot by all kinds of idiots.

B

[khajidont]

The fact of the matter is that in Exsilium - this version of Exsilium - Blue Beetle is something to be left by the wayside. His more convenient powers of technology and tracking aside, there's no reason for him to suit up and patrol in a city where more people are afraid of him than not, and more than that, they harbour a distinct animosity towards him and anyone else who looks different. Putting aside the vigilante work isn't exactly the biggest issue in the world, but as much as Jaime would like to convince himself that he does it for purely selfless reasons, he misses it. So does the Scarab, for that matter; he can practically hear it singing in his ears once they get out into the deep wilderness just to let loose.

It's fantastic out here, far away from Exsilium and far above the trees, but as much as he delights in flying, he still has to land sometime. When he does land, he's still talking to the Scarab (there really isn't any reason for him not to in an isolated area such as this), and he only just jerks out of the way to avoid one of the traps Chloe laid when the Scarab alerts him to it.

"Whoa! Thanks for the heads-up. Hey, can you tell who's bothered to come all the way out--oh." He blinks at Chloe once he finally spots her, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "Uh, hey."

[totallytrustworthy]

Wide-eyed, mouth open-- wordlessly at that-- not a few feet off from the trap she'd just set, Chloe (understandably for someone still so unused to concepts like living, breathing superheroes capable of flight whenever they feel like it) needs a moment or two to come to grips with the situation. At least before sentence structure is actually a thing, anyway.

"Hello." All right, an attempt at sentence structure anyway. "Long time no talk."

[khajidont]

"Or long time no argue, you mean," Jaime says, and even through the suit it's easy to see where the corner of his mouth is lifted in a wry smile, as if in peace offering. He may have been one of those who argued a bit less vehemently than the rest, but he has no intention of arguing even that much now. He still thinks Charlie's an asshole, but Chloe had managed to make a far better impression on him.

"Sorry if I surprised you. I'm not used to seeing anyone else all the way out here. I usually try not to pull a Batman on people."

This is a lie. He has tried to pull a Batman on people, but normally people see his bright blue ass in the sky and point him out before he's able to, in which case he attempts to act as if that were the plan all along.