[hr][center] [img]https://i.imgur.com/xHVRvPV.png[/img][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/b3RmLjEwNi5kYWE1MjAuVTNWc2JIa2dUV05RYUdWeWMyOXUuMA,,/roughsketch.regular.webp[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/r7scdkh.png[/img] [img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/b3RmLjEwNi43NjY3NjcuVTJ4dllXNWxJRVpoY21sei4w/bachelorette.regular.webp[/img] [/center][right][b]Interactions (Sloane):[/b] Drake[@Mixtape Ghost N] [code]Cliffside[/code][/right][hr] Sully engaged in some light stretching as the crew gathered along the cliffside overlooking Elysium Island, for once having an actual chance to warm up instead of getting tossed into a fight out of nowhere. He twisted and held with his left arm hooked under his extended right arm. This time there would be no random teleportation suckerpunches, no kicks in the nards, nobody forcing him to make out with a gun. He was on it. He had a cowboy hat pulled low and a bandana pulled high, with a strip of black grease underneath both of his eyes like he was about to approach the line of scrimmage. He switched arms and turned. The art bros had a limited supply of laser rifles, so Sully had the next best thing strapped to his back: the Soakem Mk V, a battery operated behemoth of a water gun with burst and stream options and sick LED lights. The bastard was so strong the guy at the store said it could strip the varnish off of a deck. It was a steal at only two hundred dollars. Sully switched to some classic martial arts wax-on, wax-off posing that he’d lifted from some Jean-Claude Van Damme movies. Accompanying the Soakem Mk V were a pair of Pocket Rockets, single shot water pistols, one hidden in the pocket of his hoodie, the other in the hood. Rustling alongside the side piece in his pocket was a piece of paper torn out of a wide-ruled notebook, the little frayed edges tangling with the lint of the sweatshirt. Transcribed on that page was a fine little motivational speech Sully had poured his heart and soul into, something to give the boys and girls that little last bit of hurrah before setting off into the breach. Sully gave a spinning karate chop, letting out a yelp as his hand stopped just inches away from decapitating the beret off of someone in a balaclava and trenchcoat. Sloane took off her sunglasses, her expression seemingly unphased by almost getting her bell rung, and pulled down her face covering. [color=silver]“May I have a sip from the Chalice?”[/color] she said, sounding absolutely exhausted. Sully’s face lit up. [color=goldenrod]“Hell yeah, dude. Open wide.”[/color] [color=silver]“Wh—ugh!”[/color] Sloane’s head recoiled violently as a blast of water hit her in the forehead. Sully winced and attempted to apologize to her, heavily sabotaged by his laughter making it impossible to get an entire sentence out. Sloane narrowed her eyes at him, took a finger, and squeegeed some of the healing elixir onto her lips. The exhaustion that was plaguing her was lifted, but a dark cloud still hung over the woman as she sharply turned from Sully, taking off her beret and pulling the balaclava off to use as a towel. His laughter, which had mostly been at the shock of having missed from such a close range, died off fully as Sully started to feel really bad. He called after Sloane and reached out to grab her shoulder, but she sensed it and jerked away before he could even grab ahold, firing off a look back at him that made Sully hold his hands up in surrender. Sloane swore under her breath at Sullivan as she finished drying her face from the elixir, jamming her wet balaclava into the shoulder bag she was carrying, nearly pricking her finger upon the Brass Needle. A few other artifacts and Counterfeits were stashed away, should she need them, as well as a handful of knives with Hexmarks already prepped into their hilts and a few useless knick knacks she could use for Objects of Obsession. In her other hand was the Chrysalis Staff. She was going to pass it off to Sullivan, feeling that someone close to Leon should have it when the leash broke, but was too annoyed with the idiot to resist fantasizing about him being (lightly) mauled by the wolfman. Still, it should be in the hands of someone close by once Sully got his comeuppance. Her eyes scanned the “aggro” crowd, looking for someone in Sycamore she could trust with the Counterfeit. She shook her head, perhaps in disappointment, as she moved towards one of the few people she felt she could trust with responsibility—or at least she once had, some time not so long ago. [color=silver]“Here,”[/color] said Sloane through clenched teeth, roughly shoving the Chrysalis Staff at Drake. For the first time in what felt like forever she didn’t avoid eye contact with him, a fresh shine of hurt reflecting in her gaze before it hardened as she motioned with her eyes towards Leon. [color=silver]“Just in case.”[/color] There was a moment as she passed the staff towards Drake that her hand lingered on the object as if she had more to say. Instead, Sloane just rolled her eyes and walked away, ignoring the sharp pain that stabbed in her chest. She hesitated as the Eustis Veil went down, finally feeling the full weight of the gravity of the situation. She hung her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, fingers tracing over the ridge that had been healed by the Chalice after Drake had broken it. Her other hand gripped at her sleeve, remembering how Drake had jumped to her aid when she had nearly succumbed to the Rot. Her chest rose and fell with a heavy breath as she turned towards Drake, opened her mouth to say something else, and was poofed away by a teleportation spell. [hr][center] [img]https://i.imgur.com/r7scdkh.png[/img] [img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/b3RmLjEwNi43NjY3NjcuVTJ4dllXNWxJRVpoY21sei4w/bachelorette.regular.webp[/img] [/center][right][b]Interactions (Sloane):[/b] Britney[@Mixtape Ghost N], Artifact Group [code]Cliffside[/code][/right][hr] Sloane trudged along the south beach of the island towards the cover of the woods with the artifact team, the nausea in her stomach from the teleportation slowly settling. Why hadn’t she offered an alternative form of travel like her boat? Choppy waters sounded like a quiet comfort when compared to the absolute gut wrenching stomach fuckery that was teleportation. The dread of everything in this underbaked assault plan going wrong was overshadowed by the worry that if it actually went right then she was doomed to suffer through another unbearable jaunt through space and time. Before she put her mask on Sloane took one final deep breath to fully settle herself and pretended to finish adjusting something in her bag, slinging it over her shoulder to catch up with the others, quickening her pace to pass the others and join up with Luca at the front—of all the people there she was still the most comfortable around the person who getting close to could kill her. She glanced at him, noting his already heavy breathing, eventually determining that it would be a wasted effort to attempt to convince him to divert to the support or communication group instead. She had to trust Luca that he knew what was best for himself, and that he wouldn’t push himself to the point of letting the Rot take control. And if he couldn’t, she had a contingency. [color=silver]“Unless we’re in a pinch, let me handle the breaking and entering first before we resort to the Rot. Any security doors might have fail safes built into them in the case of damage, and in this scenario the Rot is effectively a battering ram. My spells should be able to tiptoe past those securities, preventing further headaches. I also have a spell that could distract the dog, but I imagine with it being a construct it just might not do the trick,”[/color] said Sloane, loud enough to address the group as she turned to look back at them. [color=silver]“So that one is on all of you.”[/color] The sound of machine gun fire and explosions rang in the distance. [color=silver]“That was a fast five minutes…”[/color] muttered Sloane, looking at her watch. It hadn’t even been five minutes. Ruby’s plan was already falling apart, it seemed. She picked her Channeler out of her pocket and unlatched the clasp on her shoulder bag, ready for whatever was about to come. She heard Anya’s voice over the radio asking for a status update and turned her head, staring at the radio in Britney’s hand. Sloane fell back and, without a word, extended her hand out towards Britney in a silent demand for the radio. Her face was a wall of impassivity, but she might as well had screamed “give it up” by the way her fingers curled and beckoned towards herself in a c’mere motion. An argument could be made that Sloane should operate the radio simply because with her Hexmarks she could maintain it hands-free, but it was clear as Sloane’s chin lifted when the handoff wasn’t immediate that this was a challenge for authority.