JewelSerket

𓆣 ☢ Middle Man ☢ 𓆣

Cricket flinched slightly when Li snatched the bag. Well. Damn. He was just trying to help. Another sigh escaped him. Maybe asking for that whole interview thing had been a terrible idea. If that’s how this guy behaved then… at least the interview would be interesting. What a dick. Not that everything he said was entirely wrong, nor was it entirely unprovoked. But still…

Cricket rubbed his face and looked down at the twiggy stranger– Shit! Right! His order! He looked back and frowned when he realized several people had taken his spot. Damn it. He should not have tried to be nice. He really did not want to go stand in line again for his protein bowl. People were already loud and annoying there.

“It’s fine… I think I can do without the line.”

For a moment, Cricket awkwardly stared at the skinny fellow. He was thin… worryingly so. Not to mention the heat he had felt earlier. A fever maybe? Though this guy definitely needed to watch where he was going. A frown tightened on his lips when he spotted the blood. “Uhm… I hate to be invasive but… are you okay?”

Cricket gestured vaguely to the blood “You look kind of rough. And you were pretty warm. I don’t want to invade on whatever’s going on but, y’know, it feels kinda wrong to just let you walk away without checking.”

𓆣 ☢ Middle Man ☢ 𓆣

Blood? That was concerning. Concerning enough that he almost did not catch what the two men were saying. Cricket did a rather poor job of hiding his stare at the blood. That’s fine. Probably. Neither seemed to be paying much attention to—

Man. You’d think that, by being so big, people would see you and not run into you. Evidently, that wasn’t the case. But shit, he had definitely forgotten to shower after his workout— oh. Right. Bugs. He sighed through his nose. Cricket had gotten so used to them that he often forgot others found them gross.

Cricket stepped backwards to allow both men to step out but he was still concerned. He snatched up the bag on the ground. ”Hey! Wait!”

With a grunt, Cricket chased the men outside. His face set into a frown. Why he chased them, he was not certain. He told himself it was to get the food back to Li.

𓆣 ☢ Middle Man ☢ 𓆣

Cricket shifted under Lilian’s gaze. Lilian was not the first to notice his scars. He had seen people’s discomfort a thousand times at least. That did not make their staring any less awkward or off putting. Plus there was something else buried underneath… but just what it was, he was uncertain. Certainly, it was related to nerves. He helped pull Li to his feet– Then nearly jumped out of his shoes when a second, much thinner man approached.

Villain interviews? The thought was almost laughable. He had met plenty of villains and, well, Li put it in better words than he ever could. No villain was going to sit down for an interview. Even fewer villains were going to ever approach a reporter with anything other than malicious intent. Besides, most of them were only interested in news coverage for the purpose of attention. There were plenty of ways to get attention without being a sitting duck for the DNCC.

Seeing the two men get heated was, at the very least, amusing. It was like watching two kittens fighting… though, maybe his perspective was a bit flawed. He was far larger than these men in just about every sense of the word. He interjected his own thoughts into the mix, doing his best to not appear rude. Though, that was difficult, given his experience with villains left an absolutely foul taste in his mouth.

”I haven’t. It’s a bit difficult, I can imagine, when villains never sit still. They’re slippery bastards. Besides, that’s probably why King Stag can’t catch that… god, what’s his name? Gamma-something? Yeah. Him. He’s too slippery for that big fuckin dude. The DNCC should probably hire better heroes for that job.

𖤐 Hell's Renegades 𖤐

It was almost impossible for the Doctor to curb her instinct to stomp on Sabriel’s fingers. If she had not managed to tug her blanket away from Sabriel, Dr. Gate was unsure she would have been able to stop herself. There were far too many people in the room and the noise was giving the drowsy woman a headache already. Briefly, she considered turning herself back into solitary confinement. Then she shook that thought off.

The Doctor wished there were snacks. That she could grab something and go back to her room. As it stood, she was stuck at the back of the room watching her allies act like fools. She leaned heavily on the wall and watched Sabriel and Rubber fight.

Heh. Magnum. That was almost funny. Dr. Gate thought to herself. She gathered her blanket and let her gaze trail across the room. It fell on Ana briefly but interrupting her prayer would only mean angering the poor girl. One of the few people in the room who actually knew how to be quiet. Her gaze trained over to Lauden instead.

Approaching him was as good of a reason as any to get back towards the bedroom halls. Not that she intended to go back towards the bedrooms. The Doctor was far too nosy to leave this room when there was so much happening. Besides, Lauden was not yelling like an idiot. “Good morning.” She grumbled.

From the Egg - A Dragon Training Rp

The priestess waited until the crowd hushed themselves before she continued. What she had not anticipated was the suddenness of the hush, nor the source it had come from. Her silver gaze sliced into Mary. Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled back into a scowl. Mainlanders were impressively annoying.

”You may call me High Priestess Dula. Or Mother Dula. Whatever will be easiest. If you had kept your mouths shut,”Mother Dula addressed the crowd, ”I would have continued to tell you all.”

Mother Dula strode up onto the stage where the eggs sat and moved behind them. Her face was carved with grim lines. ”Dragons are peculiar creatures. It has been hundreds of years since the death of the last known adult dragon… and she left us the last eggs of her people. The quirk of dragons is that they don’t hatch through time or most environmental factors. They hatch through their connection to people.”

The priestess did not wait for an answer. She did not care about the murmurs of the crowd. Her hand brushed gently over the eggs, a contrast to her sharp tone. ”I am the high priestess of the Temple of Forgotten Past. We are keepers of knowledge, protectors trained in the art of magic and history. We are well aware that very few of you are warriors now… and we intend to change that. King Rosmund created a crack in the barriers that protected this world and now there is magic and power trickling through. For thousands of years, people were made to think of the time before the barriers as fables. Stories told by mothers to keep their brats docile.”

Mother Dula stepped forward, stopping at the edge of the small stage. ”You are all here, in the Temple of Forgotten Past, for the purpose of being one of seven dragon riders. For those who succeed, it will be your job to protect this realm. You will be granted magic through your steed. You will become more powerful than any known living person has ever been. You will be taught weaponry and riding, as well as how to interact with noble company. Your talents will be honed and turned into powerful tools of protection. Your lifespans will be tied to your dragons… If you fail, you will be given the choice to become a person of the cloth, or be killed to prevent this information from leaking before we are prepared to present all of you and all of the eggs have hatched.”

With a sweeping gesture, Mother Dula signaled a man to step forward. It was the same bald human as before. He placed a bowl on a table in front of the stage. Mother Dula stared down at it for a moment, then gazed back up at the crowd. ”Everyone will draw a number. Once the number has been received, you will present yourself to the eggs. In this room, there is a table dedicated to all of you. This table will have the required items for whatever skill was recommended to us by your benefactors. Some of you may know who your benefactors are. Others may not have been so lucky. Everyone here is considered one of the best in their respective field. If another person is required for your display of skill, then Father Raloph will be here to fill in for that spot. Now… Are there other questions?”

𓆣 ☢ Middle Man ☢ 𓆣

Cricket was too stunned to speak or move for a second. His manager really called him out like that, huh? Not that he was complaining. Granted, he had been the one to call for Lilian. So it was mostly on him. That did not make his face flush any less. The interview was nerve wracking too. So much could go wrong in that environment. The press were voracious.

Lilian bounced off of Cricket, who had not moved a muscle. Given his size and bulk, it was akin to a small dog running into him. He blinked and shook his head. Well. Shit. This was as good a reason to start a conversation as any.

”Ah, sorry. I was uh. Zoning out.”

Cricket leaned down and offered a hand to help Lilian up. He tried to smile, but he struggled with smiles. Davey at the station told him regularly that he always looked angry when he smiled. Cricket hoped that was not the case.

”Are you okay?”

From the Egg - A Dragon Training Rp

@Arty Fox I adore her. I would love to have her on the team. She's approved! It's refreshing to see an older character in a setting like this.

I do have a question or two, but they aren't anything you would need to change on the sheet. Firstly, do you have an image in your mind for what kind of powers her dragon would have? Secondly, may I shoot you the discord link?

𓆣 ☢ Middle Man ☢ 𓆣

The rest of Cricket’s morning was frustratingly eventful. Given his relative immunity to radiation and physical bulk, he was called to help handle some of the more dangerous areas of clean up. Not to mention the damn reporters. He managed to dodge direct interviews but some persistent reporters pushed their way up enough to get a few questions in. Cricket put on his super hero face for them but, in reality, he just wanted to go take a nap at the station.

Ironically, Cricket did end up seeing his firefighter colleagues while he was helping out. Not that he had the chance to help them directly. The places he was going were usually too dangerous for any sort of civilian. Still, it was nice to see them, even if they did not recognize him.

By noon, things had mostly calmed down. There was, of course, still a little clean up left. Most of it could be handled by professionals. That left Cricket with little more to do than check in with his manager (and agent), Jenna Falcone. He hardly listened to her usual debriefing spiel. Cricket’s mind was far too full of the events that had transpired that morning. All of it felt off in a way he could not quite describe–

Which reminded Cricket to ask about an interview with that cute– that reporter. With a little bit of persistence, Falcone was convinced to let him go. Cricket guessed she was just happy to see him excited about interacting with the public. He pretended that was his reasoning too. It made it easier than whatever the fuck his brain wanted to do.

With the bureaucratic bullshit out of the way, Cricket’s stomach rumbled. It was almost one in the afternoon and all Cricket had consumed was protein shakes. Once he was finished with his chat with Falcone, he transformed back and scuttled off to grab his bag, the one he had set down before his initial transformation. Another stomach rumble. Fine, fine. He’d go get lunch. One day, he swore to himself, I will be one of those people that does food prep every week. Cricket was very good at lying to himself.

Chekos Tacos was a decent enough restaurant… and admittedly a guilty pleasure of Cricket’s. The food was not great but it was enough to fill him. When he first started to make a livable wage with the DNCC, he pigged out on burritos there several times. Now he had the self control to at least get something he could pretend was healthy.

Cricket ran through his order in his head several times before even entering the restaurant. In and out. Order, get food, go to the station, maybe sneak a nap in on MacCloud’s couch. That old fart was a sucker for Cricket’s company. Cricket pushed through the door with a hard look on his face. He was entirely focused on this order, to the point that he almost had not noticed that same reporter standing in line.

Well. Fuck.

The order was immediately dashed from Cricket’s mind. He did his best to play normal. This man had no idea who Cricket was. There was no way he could guess who Cricket was… But some part of Cricket wanted to spark conversation.

No, Cricket. Be normal for once in your fucking life. Just get your food and move on.

𖤐 Hell's Renegades 𖤐

Dr. Gate would have liked to think that she would never have been a murderer if it were not for her circumstances. They were, after all, quite extraordinary. However, mornings (if you could even call 2 a.m. morning) like this changed that perception entirely.

Sleep had already come poorly to the doctor before her recent experience with caffeine. Her body still shook all over from the several days prior. It turned out that rapid teleportation and spatial fluctuation was not fun for the body or mind. That or she was worse with coffee than she realized. Dr. Gate found her bed to be detestable, even after she was allowed back into her room. It was certainly more comfortable than the confinement cot, but not by much. She had thought to ask for a better one but had brushed it off, not wanting to be seen as weak. The Doctor was kicking herself for that decision.

Staring at the ceiling was doing little to help the Doctor’s restlessness. Her fingers wrapped tightly around a pillow, slowly pulling at it. If it were not for the fact that she was being observed, the Doctor would have been up and walking, trying to find a way to stabilize. To breathe. To–

Bang

That sound came from a few doors down. Dr. Gate pulled a pillow over her head and groaned into it. If that worthless rat touched her door, she would kill him herself. Or castrate him. Surely, Agent Roy would let her castrate him.

BANG

He was getting closer. Gods be damned, he was getting closer.

BANG BANG BANG BANG

Murder. She was going to murder him.

Dr. Gate looked up and over at her shaking door. Her nails dug holes into her pillow. She threw it to the side and rubbed her face. Dr. Gate was going to murder that loud asshole. She wrapped her soft, forest green blanket around her shoulders and stared at the door. Dr. Gate gritted her teeth and stood.

Some days, the Doctor decided it was a stupid idea to choose this. She should have stayed incarcerated.

Dr. Gate snatched a pen from her desk, then dragged herself out of her bedroom. It mattered little to her that her blanket dragged on the ground behind her. She could clean it later. She would probably have to, given how much of a mess her allies were. It would not be the first time the Doctor got dirt on her because of Pine and his shenanigans.

A quick glance at the wall clock of the common room revealed it was four in the morning. Of course it was four in the morning! The Doctor used one hand to hold her blanket in place. The other was shoved into her pocket. It was something that would slow her down if she did actually decide to drive this pen into Sabriel’s skull.

Dr. Gate paused halfway down the hall when she saw Harper’s well earned assault on Sabriel. She stared with dead eyes at the man on the ground. Her mouth twisted into a contemptuous smirk. Good, She thought to herself, Maybe he’ll shut the fuck up.

The Doctor stepped into the common room, deliberately stepping around Sabriel in such a way that she could get close enough to inspect him. She pulled her blanket tighter, unsuccessfully trying to keep it from touching that dirty bastard. “Maybe you should think harder about your actions before you get payback for what you’ve done. Oh. Oh wait.”

Dr. Gate paid little attention to the guard’s question. If she was trying to kill Sabriel, it would have been done a long time ago. Not that she wasn’t still seriously thinking about it. The only thing stopping her was that he was useful.

Probably.

Either way, she could not bring herself to physically harm him. She just shot him resentful looks instead.

From the Egg - A Dragon Training Rp

The first drops of rain… they splattered on the roof of the building, signaling the breaking of tension. The priestess at the front of the room let her gaze drift upwards. Then she let out a long sigh. Both she and the bald human exchanged quick words. Then the man slipped behind the curtain. The priestess’ gaze slid coldly back out to the crowd. For a moment, she allowed the din of murmuring to continue. Then she raised her hand.

Clong!!!

In the corner of one of the tallest booths, a massive drum was struck. It was loud enough to reverberate through the massive room, silencing all who dared to speak. Even those in the boxes, as high class as they may be, fell into respectful quiet

”Welcome, all of you. I would say this was a pleasure, but that would be a lie. We are not here to make kindness and revelry. We are here to speak of saving Elysium, before it is too late..” The priestess’ voice fills the room, sharp and well spoken despite her apparent age.

A fresh wave of murmurs crosses the crowd. It is a big statement to suggest that the entire known world was in danger. Some of the fourteen snorted or joked. Others rolled their eyes. Those in the boxes along the walls stayed eerily silent, save for a few concerned mutters. Those masked people seemed entirely convinced by the priestess’ words. Several held hands or wrapped their arms around each other.

”The lot of you were chosen because of your skill. Some are warriors. Others are artists. Still others are well versed in abilities beyond the normal person’s comprehension. Seven of you will become warriors, destined to protect and save the realm from coming danger. The other seven will never be allowed to leave this island.”

The priestess takes a pause. It lasts just long enough for one of the men in the crowd to scoff and speak up. “What is this?! Some sorta cult bullshit? Why the hell should I trust an elf?!”

With a darkening gaze, the priestess speaks again, ”King Rosmund has awakened something deep and angry from within the core of the earth. A beast that will hatch soon and destroy everything in its wake. This petty war will be the end of our people if we do not band together… But you fools refuse to make peace. As such, we, a neutral force, are gathering warriors for the purpose of defeating this beast when it rises. Believe it or don’t. You now know too much to be freed from this island peacefully. Tonight, seven of you will be chosen to tame dragons.”

This sparks a fresh wave of rage. Of laughter. The priestess grits her teeth and waves grandly with her hand. On cue, the curtains slide open and reveals the only proof of the priestess’ words. Seven perfectly similar eggs sit on a table. They are easily three feet tall in height and would be difficult to wrap one's arms around.