totallytrustworthy: (Default)
Who: Chloe Frazer and Charlie Cutter
Where: BLOOD AND THUNDER THE ARENA
When: June 21st
Warnings: Charlie is an idiot; Chloe isn't much better

"When I said blend in with the locals I meant more like 'have a pint with them', 'talk about current events', 'tell them you grew up on the east end of things'." She's no more than a step behind him, hood pulled taut across the curve of her skull with both hands on the drawstrings, groaning out her best interpretation of a kid being dragged to the store by their currently least favorite parent. "I didn't mean actually turn into a giant fanatic."

A giant, geeky fanatic that seriously suggested this as a discreet place to meet up. 


alittlesweptup: (oic)
Who: Charlie Cutter & YOU!
Where: Various
When: Catch-all from the 1st through the 8th.
Warnings: High likelihood of salty language, will update if necessary.

[Quark's]

Where there are sporting events, there's a simulcast to be found. Where there's sporting simulcasts in even semi-proximity of gambling tables, there's money to be made.

Charlie knows approximately jack all about approximately ninety percent of the games held in the Colliseum and beyond, but this is his element and he's a damn quick study when he likes to be. In this case - living off the generosity of the Fleet for this his second month and desperately trying to avoid considering gainful employment for as long as he's able -- Well, in this case he's got the motivation to learn all the finagling rules of space games and setting up shop at the end of the bar at Quark's seems as good a place as any to take in a few drinks, some chips and spend a few hours glued to both the simulcasts and the casual betting being had by any other patrons in the vicinity.

He doesn't risk his money on any of the sports that are too unfamiliar for him to have any kind of grasp on yet, but there's nothing overly complex about giant robot fights. When the simulcast turns over to one of those, Charlie orders another drink and cheerfully nudges whatever poor sod is sitting next to him.

"I'll bet you a tenner the blue one kicks the other one's arse."

[Street of the Gods]

He'd been before on Nate's recommendation, but a month after his own arrival and Charlie finds himself spending frequent afternoons meandering his way through the street of the gods. Not that he's the religious sort - superstitious yes and maybe there's a little faith in the concept of luck, if not Fortuna herself - but there's a strange kind of even keel to be found in the places where people put their trust. None of these gods belong to him (hell, most of them aren't even recognizable), but there's an order and purpose to the avenue that's as soothing as the indexing system in the fleet library. Categorized. Structured. Sensible in it's own way.

And Christ if he isn't missing a bit of that.

Charlie makes his way along the street, ducking into one of the churches (shrines? sanctuaries? God only knows) at random and finding it between services. Or maybe they haven't got services at all. Maybe it's just a glorified prayer box. That said there's benches running along the outer edge of the hall and he takes advantage of one by perching himself on the end of it. There are only a few other people in the sanctuary, stone silent, and he quickly finds himself needing to cough - does so, awkwardly and blustering.

"Pardon."

[WILDCARD - Choose Your Own Adventure!]
((ooc: I'm open to whatever!))
phaseshifted: (siren ♛ offenses)
[instead of her face, she puts up an image of herself, old but still suitable for now. she'll need to make a new one soon.]

Apparently travelling through dimensions can block out memories. Really important ones, as a matter of fact. I don't know how many people this might have happened to, but it's new information for all of us to keep in mind.

[she pauses, almost ending there but deciding it can't hurt to ask.]

On a different note, if anyone has the capacity to fly and would like someone to come with them when they do, I'd be happy to. I've found it's a lot more enjoyable with friends.
dreamermoa: (is love alive?)
Hi, everybody. [Yay, it's the Moa show! Except not yay, because she has a worried expression on her face. Part of it is that she still seems a little uncomfortable talking to a camera, but there's something else bothering her, too. Something which she will now explain.]

Back when I first got here, over...two months ago, I asked about my friend Rail. If anyone had seen him, or anything. I ended up asking the ship personnel if they could look for him for me, in the...with the people who haven't woken up yet. [A pause, and her eyes drop.]

They said...that they couldn't find him - but - but that maybe he'd just been overlooked because there's a lot of people still asleep. [The last part spills out of her mouth like if she says it fast enough it'll erase the idea of not being able to find him.]

I told everyone that I'd...um...[And now she slows back down, because suddenly this feels like a really awkward thing to post over the network.] That I'd, you know, tell you what I found out about the people still sleeping and stuff, so...that's why I'm telling everyone now. Okay.

[Yep, awkward. She stares at the camera for a few moments, chewing her lip uncertainly, before just turning it off. Click!]
While the heroes of the militia bravely fought off the invading bomber mech, its true mission had been completed. Two soundwaves, of different wavelengths but still similar, had been blasted loud enough for most of the city to hear.

Each sound carried a virus, one that wreaked havoc on the brain chemistry and the minds of those who heard it. In the hours that followed, people might not have noticed much. But as the days went on, it was obvious that there was something dreadfully wrong. It had taken a while for the medical staff had figured out just what, but announcements had spread warning of the sonic weapon holding many of the citizens at bay.

There was an attempt at putting in a quarantine that was swiftly abandoned due to the impossibility. Nearly everyone was infected, with few people not. Tensions ran high, and the Security teams had an uncommonly high amount of violent crimes to respond to. But life goes on, and multiple parties are attempting to find a cure.

[We are currently on Day 5 of the infection. However, please feel free to backdate to an earlier time. If you do so, please leave an OOC note that you are/are willing to do it in order to let the mods and other characters know what's up. Network and log replies both work. Don't feel like you only have to stay in here, you can spread to other posts if you like. This post is for players who don't want to make a new post JUST for that.]
Who: New Arrivals, Graham Baker
Where: Briefing Room
When: Late afternoon, Aprilo 1st
Warnings: None

When awakening, the immediate surroundings are swarming with activity. The people in the medical ward are polite and understanding, but firmly refuse to answer questions until the briefing. They move with a practiced efficiency, already veterans of this kind of thing. The same goes for the robots in the hangars. Either given hospital outfits resembling very comfortable pajamas, drone bodies, or their own bodies, they are escorted by polite, unyielding people in red and black uniforms to the briefing room.

The Briefing room is large. Not enough to accommodate a giant, but spacious enough for several dozen people. The tiles are black and featureless while the walls are nice, soothing colors. The chairs are high-backed and well-cushioned, more like comforting eggs floating a foot or so off the ground than anything else. Set into the ceiling and floor near the front is a large holographic projector. The floor in front of each seat also has a smaller projector, allowing people to see what the bigger device is showing without having to angle for a view. As of now, it merely displays a rotating pyramid.

Three Security personnel, dressed in their red and black uniforms, stand at ease in the rooms in strategic areas. One man stands at the head. Graham Baker, a middle-aged man showing the first signs of balding and wearing a wrinkled business suit, clasps his hands behind his back and smiles.

[Questions to the NPCs will go in the briefing thread. The rest of the post is there for people to mill about and do whatever with. The mods will not be doing hangar/medical awakenings unless it's specifically asked for.]

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