goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"Oh god, they're right," Wash says, pausing in slipping on his undersuit. "I guess moving on is a more romantic reason than me being an asshole merc." Pity it wasn't just that. "They want to change the world. Remember when we were like that?" They'd been so sure that they'd be the ones who'd win the war, save the world.

He lets out a sigh at that, shakes his head. "A guy takes one day off in the entire time I've been here."

"Still like that, man. I dunno about you." Fighting against incredible odds to save people he doesn't even know? Feels like the old him. He snorts a soft laugh and peels his suit up his hips. "Well they've always seen you working. THey're used to it."

He goes still for a moment. "Think I'm a bit too far gone to be trying to be a hero. If I'm doing it, I'm doing it 'cause you're here." And somehow that counted for everything right now. "You make me want to do better. Does that count?"

The suit sticks tight to his body like a second skin. Always a pain to get on, but essential equipment. "I guess. Never exactly tried to make friends."

Edited 2015-07-23 16:15 (UTC)

"How did I go from being a terrible influence to the best one ever?" York plays it off as light- they're having a good day. Why ruin it? "Reminds me of how Carolina made me feel. Like I could be better if I tried hard enough."

No flinch this time just- idle acceptance.

"Must be your sparkling personality," Wash replies. "You got out, York. You knew something was wrong. It took till I was locked up by them to figure it out." He'd been an idiot.

He pauses at the mention of Carolina, stares down at his hands. "Yeah. She was a good leader."

"We'll just have to try to live up to the example she set." It's a high bar to vault, but he thinks they can manage it. Especially if the kids aren't fighting each other every damn day.

Her example. She'd been the best of them and now... "I'm glad I didn't- didn't see her fall. Or fail." It's the closest he can come to telling York the truth. "She was so bright."

"It was a long way down." He tries not to think about it. HOw long it'd take to hit the rocks.

He curls in on himself a little at that. Doesn't want to think of Carolina falling. Of how hurt she must have been when she dragged herself back. But she'd lost too much on the way down.

He focuses on sliding the undersuit shut instead, reaches for his armour. Each piece feels like building a wall to seal the Agent behind the mercenary.

"Let's go."

Plate after plate locks into place, the last thing to go on is the helmet. The HUD flares up bright, pinging motion on his left before he turns his attention to Wash. "Come on then, I'll borrow a mongoose, we can double up on that."

And just like that, it sort of feels like last night never happened. He hates the feeling. But it's easier to hide when his helmet is on, when there's nothing but grey armour between him and the world.

"Alright boss. Let's go."

"Don't call me boss, I might get a big head." He snorts, reaching over to nudge Wash in the shoulder on his way out the door. There is some catcalling from the passing formation of LTs, swiftly silenced by Smith's well placed glare.

"Too late," Wash says, and the smirk is obvious in his voice.

He's still not entirely inclined to be outright friendly to anyone on base. It comes with too much risk, so he follows York's lead, ignores the Rebels for the most part except as he needs to as they cross the base.

Not as dumb as he thinks he is then, if he remembers something as obscure as that. Though he had not granted his full name, just two by which he was best known. But that he would then in turn ask for hers...? To have summoned her at all, he had to know her true name, needed it to invoke the control spells to bind her to his service. Was that, too, a mistake on his part?

Just...recklessness. Such things would get him killed, like as not. Yet there was an appeal there, in spite of her nature.

Her lips purse a moment, green eyes dark beneath demon-long lashes, before there is a shrug of aqua-blue shoulders. "It is for the one that summoned me to grant me a name. Call me what you will." But there's still an undertone, something underscored by the lash of her tail, that make it clear that what she expects is 'demon', nothing like a name.

Just don't make it dumb, honestly. Wings still settled, she moves towards the sofa, taking the opposite empty space. There's a soft hisssss as she walks past the tomato circle on the floor, before it begins to flake, the particles floating upwards and crackling until they disappear.

No stain left to explain to the landlord. "So, York, what is it that you do here?"

"The point of employing me is to ensure that things don't happen, period. And if they do, you don't need to know about it until it's done." Her head shakes at the mention of flash mobs, however.

"You have your own job to worry about on stage." Dropping his hand, she nods to Delta. "See you there in a few hours, then. I'll sign the paperwork at the club." She doesn't need to see it. She trusts Delta not to screw her over in the fine details.

"Huh." Okay, he needs to make sure it doesn't suck. Also the- circle is gone now.

No clean up.

that is really fucking WEIRD wow.

He starts collecting bottles from around the sofa and shoving them in a trash bag hanging off the back that's used for that express purpose, still mulling over the whole 'name' thing. Needs to not suck. Needs to be a NAME.

"Uh. Debunk urban legends and mythology and shit like that. Hence the having a book on the summoning of demons. Shit goes around on the internet like 'Charlie Charlie' or 'Bloody Mary' and I do the thing, tape the thing, tape nothing happening and go 'hey this is bullshit stop wasting time and go play outside like sane people'. It's not much but it pays the bills. That and I sorta study mythology and folklore and stuff but that was all three semesters ago and right now I'm on a journalism track so...I'm. Gonna have to bullshit the hell out of this one cuz no way am I putting a tape of me actually summoning a legit demon while DRUNK online. People will die. Also I imagine it'd suck for you, right? All these people ask'n you for shit." He's distantly aware that this is the most he's spoken to anyone all at once since the last failed roomate. Huh.

"Carolina!" He snaps his fingers. "That's what I'll call you. Carolina."

She wouldn't have been able to remove it at all had man and cat not smudged the line. As it is, she's content to lounge against the arm of the couch as York does a little bit of clean-up, occasionally nudging a fallen bottle so that it rolls along the floor towards him.

"So you are a, reverse witch hunter? You reveal false heresies?" It's rather a turn up for the books. If magery wasn't held in high esteem, those that cast it were recluses, hunted down for the power at their disposal. It's clear however from the way her brow knits and the crest of scales along her forehead shift that she isn't familiar with the 'internet', or taping.

Still, if this is 'work', pity to waste it. "Perhaps save it for such a day that a summoning in your profession would be expected to work?" Samhain, perhaps, or the winter solstice. "People will only die if that is your wish," she gives a dismissive wave of a clawed hand. "You and I have a pact. Short of your death or mine, or someone of greater power forcing a break of the pact to turn me to their service, such things are unlikely."

Then green eyes blink, and she stares a long moment. She had requested a name. "Carolina," she repeats, as those testing it.

"...That's a little unsettling." But. Okay, whatever, he needs to get dressed and get into makeup and glitter, really? Really. But it's what D has on the docket and if D says it goes, it goes.

So. Clothes. Hair. Makeup. Guitar cuz he does play (a little he doesn't wanna upstage the band or the dancers), Mic on his ear and ready to bust up on stage like a freightrain but-

Is the smoke supposed to smell a little like ether? That's. WEird.

"Kimball knows I"m go'n, so we got about a four hour grace period before I need to radio in." He packs up what he thinks he'll need from the armory, sets a tracker on the mongoose (just in case) and swings a leg over. "C'mon, Wash."

"For the most part, yeah. Some stuff has actually worked before- harmless stuff. Good luck charms, weather wishes, lighting a candle by blowing on it but I figured it was cuz of something in the wick. The people that believe in it get validation, everyone else says I'm using special effects to make shit happen. So it's kind of a win-win. People that know what they're doing get to know what does work and what doesn't, everyone else thinks I'm cool shit." A fraud, but cool shit. He can live with that.

"Uh. There's not that much call for demon summoning anymore. Not really. At least not that I know of? It's not exactly something I'd be comfortable proving to be true, which is where the journalisim segment comes in handy." He will lie his ass off if he needs to in order to bury this tape. First he needs to hide the damn thing, it wasn't supposed to work at all.

Next he's gotta find the rest of the copies of this book and hide THOSE too. Fun.

It's easy to roll around in his head while he picks up cans and bottles and to-go containers- yeah maybe he needs to get out a little more. "Mhmm. Carolina. It's a state- well one of two states in the US. Last roomie that stuck was from there. So was a squadmate back from my time in the military. So. You're stuck with me, Carolina. Unless that's not gonna work then I'll think of something else."

"Sounds good." Four hours gave them time to get stuff done and have something to report on. Wash picks up his own rifle and the wicked set of knives that are pretty much the nicest things that he owns, custom made and balanced for his hand.

He swings himself up onto the back of the mongoose, leans over to squeeze York's shoulder. "Ready."

Harmless. There's a hint of fang in the smile flashed at him. "You have an interesting definition of 'safe'. Even such things can be used for ill, you know." And not so much a fraud as he might otherwise have believed before now.

He did, after all, summon her.

He'll find no objections to his hiding of evidence. Not being summoned by others would be a bonus, and those who don't know what they are doing god very very easily end up dead due to who they call upon. There are horror movies involving tentacles for a reason. "Perhaps you could speak on the impracticality of summoning. Particularly in this modern era." Make fun of it, perhaps. It's almost sad that he would not use the 'video', but then, keeping one's abilities secret was no surprise to her.

Carolina. Not someone else's name to inhereit in this case, but a 'state'. A land in fact (two?). "Carolina," she says again, savouring it, before smiling - actual, genuine smile, brief but real. "Acceptable."

"You gotta know the right rules for reversal for luck and weather. Besides- if someone already knows what they're doing and are strong enough to make a big thing of it? They aren't watch'n my shit." At least he hopes not. The thoughts' enough for him to mark the 'maybe hide this shit' to 'def hide this shit'.

Of course the idea of a strong mage before now was kind of impractical to him but- if he could do this? Someone that knew better could too.

But hey, there's an idea. Impractical summoning. Could make it funny. That'd get him paid and make this less of a waste. Yeah. "That is a really good idea. Thanks Carolina!"

He grins over the back of the sofa at her, scooping up the last of the bottles and food containers before knotting the bag up. "So if you're stuck with me till I die or you die or whatever you're probably gonna need a room. Which is good, cuz I have a spare. Mostly I keep books in there but I can move 'em out if you wanna decorate and make it cozy for you."

The club is, relatively, secure by the time that the last parts of concert setup is underway. Carolina, for her part, has been prowling all the access points, beefing it up around the upper floors where people might try something stupid.

There's still time for warm ups before the crowds can be allowed in, but the release of smoke on the stage gives her pause. She's been over the routine, knows which numbers are meant to have what, and that's going off way too early.

She shifts her course, taking an indirect route towards the stage.

Yeah that's- way. Way too sweet a smell. He stumbles a little and leans against the support strut for the platform that's supposed to push him forward on stage and covers his mouth, coughing. What the hell is this- "Jerry cut the smoke! I can't breathe, man-"

RP Open Post

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject