I'm not involved in anything currently, but just in case anyone was thinking of getting me involved in anything, I'm probably going to be gone for at least the rest of this week. Driving back to college tomorrow (12 hour drive), re-connecting with people, finishing summer work, etc, so you all probably won't hear from me for a bit. Been a pleasure joining up with you all this summer even if I wasn't able to participate that much.
Pannette Member
Tsundere
STATUS: "Life is a crazy, mystical thing, and sometimes you just go out like a buster. And there's nothing you can do about it." - MaNg0 10 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 62 (0.02 / day)
- VMs: 1
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Username history
- Pannette 10 yrs ago
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10 yrs ago
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"Life is a crazy, mystical thing, and sometimes you just go out like a buster. And there's nothing you can do about it." - MaNg0
Bio
Mia. 18. Aspiring writer. Constanly flustered lesbian. Goofing off with RPs when I'm not writing short stories. You can call me Pann for short.
Most Recent Posts
@Pannette Your character is like Shirou, isn't she?
Good taste. Also good taste in bestgirl.
Hee hee, yup. I'm absolute Fate garbage - I can't help myself. This character started out as something else and sort of morphed into pseudo-Shirou, and for this RP I just decided to go all the way.
And Rin is best girl, for sure.
Clair Carnelian & Abel Fulgurate (collab with Lugubrious)
Abel, having retired to bed the previous night at an entirely fair and reasonable hour however against the nature of a teenager it was, was feeling particularly well rested after his bowl of oatmeal. First period, and sparring, didn't begin for some time yet, and the guardian had been ruminating over an idea for some time that he felt now would serve as an ideal time to enact.
He mulled it over again as he walked at a brisk pace toward the workshop. The overall game plan could be summarized in two words: water grenades. The thought came to him a while back actually, not a matter of days but months in fact, after becoming acquainted with his semblance. It had always bothered him that Surge's best use was not as offense or defense, but as utility. As it stood, Abel's summoned electricity could be employed one of two ways: as a lightning bolt, once every few minutes, or to manipulate the hyper-conductive Ampere. Having something that could make anything a conductor, however, would turn the tides in his favor. All of the ideas excited him: more effective lightning bolts on wet targets, soaking the floor to create an electric zone, electrocution...and so forth.
Before he knew it, Abel found himself in the workshop. At the rear of the work area was a sort of back room that contained all the scrap, extras, failed prototypes, and otherwise unwanted things that various people left behind. Since one man's trash was, as the saying went, another man's treasure, many looked through it to find inspiration or a necessary part. After a little bit of searching, Abel managed to find himself the empty casing of a used smoke grenade, and brought it back with him to a table to work on. Hollowing it out and grabbing a crystal of water dust was easy; figuring out how to trigger one without exploding it in his hand or not working at all was, however, a different story. Furthermore, the guardian's large, somewhat clumsy fingers did not lend themselves to delicate craftsmanship.
"Hey, having trouble with something?" a voice asked, but he was too absorbed in his work to realize that the question was aimed at him. Time passed as he continued tinkering with spare parts. He felt a tap on his shoulder. "Dust grenades, huh?" The voice was closer now. He glanced over his shoulder.
There was a girl standing there, looking at his work-in-progress. Her long, dark red hair was tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing weathered jeans and a grease-stained tanktop, revealing scars on her arms from what he guessed were various machining tools. She pointed at the dust crystals he had set aside.
"Why water dust?" she asked.
"Sorry?"
"You're trying to make dust grenades, right? Why are you using water dust?"
"Well, uh, hmm. My semblance is lightning, but it's not very strong. I thought, if I could cover an area or enemies in water, it would...be better." Despite coffee and oatmeal, it seemed, he still wasn't very articulate. Not that the situation warranted it; why was this girl poking her nose in his business? If it would get her to leave him alone, he might as well answer her. "I don't know how to do the trigger. Was thinking like the hammer of a revolver, but there's no way to keep it from blowing up instantly."
She rested her hand gently on her mouth and furrowed her brow. After a moment, she picked up the empty grenade shell he was toying with. She looked at it carefully from all sides, flicking the metal with her fingernail. She shut her eyes and nodded, and then placed the shell back on the table. "So you want something like this, right?"
She extended her arm out in front of her. Red light swirled, gathering in her open palm. With a quiet flash, the light solidified, and in her hand was what looked like - no, what had to be - a grenade. She handed it to him. "Think you can figure out how to make it yourself? Or do you want my help?"
Tentatively, Abel accepted the grenade, as if the red light might return and go off any second. Admittedly, he had not considered the possibility that this girl actually wanted to help him. Usually, people didn't look out for other people--at least, not stuff as trivial as this. After taking a second glass at this unknown student, whom he guessed to be a few years older than he, he examined the grenade. Her solution, once he'd partially disassembled the device to look at its innards, had been simple and clever: the button on the top of the grenade triggered a second mechanism that took one second to complete, and ended with the firing of a pin into the crystal, causing it to explode. Additionally, the grenade's shell had been reworked into more of a metal lattice than a normal frag. The water would simply burst through it, rather than destroying the metal. That was, it could be reused once outfitted with new water dust. Abel raised his eyebrows. "Hey. Pretty smart. Thanks...I guess. What do you want in return? Don't, uh, have a lot of money on me or anything." He avoided her question for now, not wanting to rely on this girl if he could help it.
She shook her head. "You can keep your money. There's nothing I want from you, really. I just feel like I'm not exactly being a good upperclassmen if I don't help out you underclassmen once and a while." She took a pencil out from behind her ear and twirled it between her fingers. "I won't lie to you. I'm not much of socialite. But the workshop's the one place that I feel comfortable talking to people. My dad's a weaponsmith and I spent a lot of time in our workshop at home growing up, so being in here feels... familiar. When I see people like you, I try and give them a hand, just like my dad did for me." She put the pencil back behind her ear. She held out her hand and with another red flash, a screwdriver appeared. "Although, to be honest, I think I'm a little bit of a cheater. All I really need to do here is fool around with spare parts, draft up some designs, and then my Semblance takes care of the rest."
She threw the screwdriver up in the air and it dissolved into a shower of red. A flip of the hair. "Sorry, I ended up preaching at you a bit. People don't come down here this early, so I guess you ended up being my first audience." A small chuckle. "I'm Clair, by the way." She held out her hand.
Abel really didn't know what to make of this girl. At the very least, she'd confessed that she wasn't exactly the best at social interaction, which placed her somewhat near him on that scale. Ultimately, despite signs that she was simply taking advantage of the opportunity to talk, Abel decided that she was genuine: a good samaritan who felt that she was shirking responsibility to not help people. This he could somewhat relate to, actually. He reached out and accepted her hand, careful not to squeeze too hard. "Abel Fulgurate, team Swansong."
Not sure what to do next, he took another look at the grenade. "I should be able to make more of this. If I run into any trouble, I'll let you know." He paused briefly before finishing with, "Thanks again for the help. You seem pretty cool."
Clair scratched her head. "H-Hey, no need for flattery. Just helping where I can. Give me a shout if you need a hand." Sheepishly, she turned around and walked back to her own workspace.
Really, there was no reason for her to help him. But there was something about this situation - a boy with clumsy hands, trying his hardest to improve himself - that reminded her of her younger self, sweating away in Dad's workshop until late at night, falling asleep amidst the tools and the not-yet-moving parts. There was no real reason for her to help anyone who walked through these doors (other than some the notion of 'seniority' and 'being a good person') but something about watching underclassmen fumbling over themselves filled her with a sense of warmth, and helping them only made her warmer.
I think it's okay to break character once and a while, she thought. Drafting up the design for her next weapon, brushing eraser shavings off the table, she allowed herself a little smile. If there was one thing that she could take solace in amidst the drama of transferring and her flaky roommate, it was conceptualizing weapons and bringing them to life.
She discovered her Semblance at the end of her disastrous last mission at Haven. With her own weapon shattered in the fighting, her teammates incapacitated, the Grimm swung at her. In that instant between life and death she found herself finding an answer to a question she never knew she had - or at least, that was the easiest way to explain it. From then on, projecting and copying weapons that she'd seen up close was as easy as waking up in the morning.
Well, okay. It's easier than waking up in the morning, depending on the day.
Losing her own weapon meant that she now had unlimited options for picking a new one. It didn't matter if she didn't order the right metals, screws, or bullets; all she needed was a pencil and paper and anything in the world was right there for her, no shipping necessary. Even though she had a few solid options at her disposal (her old teammates' weapons, which she knew inside and out), now that she had the power to make whatever she wanted, she felt that she owed it to herself to design the perfect weapon. And with enough time and patience, she was confident she could do it.
The perfect one for me, at least.
"Hey, I think I got it."
Clair shook her head, blinking rapidly. Had she been daydreaming? Turning around, Abel was standing there with his finished product. A good few minutes had passed, and the guardian now held a completed water grenade in his hand. The trigger he'd reverse-engineered was a bit bulkier and less efficient than her design, but it would work just the same - probably.
"Looks pretty good to me. Nice job."
Abel cracked a smile as he displayed his achievement. "I think I got it. Just in time, too. Combat class is about to get started. I'll, uh, see you around then. Any more engineering hurdles, I can just call on Clair the tech wizard, huh?" Pocketing the device, he gathered up his leftover materials and placed them in a safe spot for future use. As he grabbed the Ampere from beside the door, he turned back partially and offered the senior a wave. "Later."
She waved back, letting a slight smile slip. "See you around." The workshop was silent once more.
Pencil in hand. No more distractions. For sure, she thought, she would finish this weapon today. Walking over to the supply shelves, she stopped.
"Well," she mumbled. "A little distraction once and while isn't bad."
Prior to Combat Class...
Abel, having retired to bed the previous night at an entirely fair and reasonable hour however against the nature of a teenager it was, was feeling particularly well rested after his bowl of oatmeal. First period, and sparring, didn't begin for some time yet, and the guardian had been ruminating over an idea for some time that he felt now would serve as an ideal time to enact.
He mulled it over again as he walked at a brisk pace toward the workshop. The overall game plan could be summarized in two words: water grenades. The thought came to him a while back actually, not a matter of days but months in fact, after becoming acquainted with his semblance. It had always bothered him that Surge's best use was not as offense or defense, but as utility. As it stood, Abel's summoned electricity could be employed one of two ways: as a lightning bolt, once every few minutes, or to manipulate the hyper-conductive Ampere. Having something that could make anything a conductor, however, would turn the tides in his favor. All of the ideas excited him: more effective lightning bolts on wet targets, soaking the floor to create an electric zone, electrocution...and so forth.
Before he knew it, Abel found himself in the workshop. At the rear of the work area was a sort of back room that contained all the scrap, extras, failed prototypes, and otherwise unwanted things that various people left behind. Since one man's trash was, as the saying went, another man's treasure, many looked through it to find inspiration or a necessary part. After a little bit of searching, Abel managed to find himself the empty casing of a used smoke grenade, and brought it back with him to a table to work on. Hollowing it out and grabbing a crystal of water dust was easy; figuring out how to trigger one without exploding it in his hand or not working at all was, however, a different story. Furthermore, the guardian's large, somewhat clumsy fingers did not lend themselves to delicate craftsmanship.
"Hey, having trouble with something?" a voice asked, but he was too absorbed in his work to realize that the question was aimed at him. Time passed as he continued tinkering with spare parts. He felt a tap on his shoulder. "Dust grenades, huh?" The voice was closer now. He glanced over his shoulder.
There was a girl standing there, looking at his work-in-progress. Her long, dark red hair was tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing weathered jeans and a grease-stained tanktop, revealing scars on her arms from what he guessed were various machining tools. She pointed at the dust crystals he had set aside.
"Why water dust?" she asked.
"Sorry?"
"You're trying to make dust grenades, right? Why are you using water dust?"
"Well, uh, hmm. My semblance is lightning, but it's not very strong. I thought, if I could cover an area or enemies in water, it would...be better." Despite coffee and oatmeal, it seemed, he still wasn't very articulate. Not that the situation warranted it; why was this girl poking her nose in his business? If it would get her to leave him alone, he might as well answer her. "I don't know how to do the trigger. Was thinking like the hammer of a revolver, but there's no way to keep it from blowing up instantly."
She rested her hand gently on her mouth and furrowed her brow. After a moment, she picked up the empty grenade shell he was toying with. She looked at it carefully from all sides, flicking the metal with her fingernail. She shut her eyes and nodded, and then placed the shell back on the table. "So you want something like this, right?"
She extended her arm out in front of her. Red light swirled, gathering in her open palm. With a quiet flash, the light solidified, and in her hand was what looked like - no, what had to be - a grenade. She handed it to him. "Think you can figure out how to make it yourself? Or do you want my help?"
Tentatively, Abel accepted the grenade, as if the red light might return and go off any second. Admittedly, he had not considered the possibility that this girl actually wanted to help him. Usually, people didn't look out for other people--at least, not stuff as trivial as this. After taking a second glass at this unknown student, whom he guessed to be a few years older than he, he examined the grenade. Her solution, once he'd partially disassembled the device to look at its innards, had been simple and clever: the button on the top of the grenade triggered a second mechanism that took one second to complete, and ended with the firing of a pin into the crystal, causing it to explode. Additionally, the grenade's shell had been reworked into more of a metal lattice than a normal frag. The water would simply burst through it, rather than destroying the metal. That was, it could be reused once outfitted with new water dust. Abel raised his eyebrows. "Hey. Pretty smart. Thanks...I guess. What do you want in return? Don't, uh, have a lot of money on me or anything." He avoided her question for now, not wanting to rely on this girl if he could help it.
She shook her head. "You can keep your money. There's nothing I want from you, really. I just feel like I'm not exactly being a good upperclassmen if I don't help out you underclassmen once and a while." She took a pencil out from behind her ear and twirled it between her fingers. "I won't lie to you. I'm not much of socialite. But the workshop's the one place that I feel comfortable talking to people. My dad's a weaponsmith and I spent a lot of time in our workshop at home growing up, so being in here feels... familiar. When I see people like you, I try and give them a hand, just like my dad did for me." She put the pencil back behind her ear. She held out her hand and with another red flash, a screwdriver appeared. "Although, to be honest, I think I'm a little bit of a cheater. All I really need to do here is fool around with spare parts, draft up some designs, and then my Semblance takes care of the rest."
She threw the screwdriver up in the air and it dissolved into a shower of red. A flip of the hair. "Sorry, I ended up preaching at you a bit. People don't come down here this early, so I guess you ended up being my first audience." A small chuckle. "I'm Clair, by the way." She held out her hand.
Abel really didn't know what to make of this girl. At the very least, she'd confessed that she wasn't exactly the best at social interaction, which placed her somewhat near him on that scale. Ultimately, despite signs that she was simply taking advantage of the opportunity to talk, Abel decided that she was genuine: a good samaritan who felt that she was shirking responsibility to not help people. This he could somewhat relate to, actually. He reached out and accepted her hand, careful not to squeeze too hard. "Abel Fulgurate, team Swansong."
Not sure what to do next, he took another look at the grenade. "I should be able to make more of this. If I run into any trouble, I'll let you know." He paused briefly before finishing with, "Thanks again for the help. You seem pretty cool."
Clair scratched her head. "H-Hey, no need for flattery. Just helping where I can. Give me a shout if you need a hand." Sheepishly, she turned around and walked back to her own workspace.
Really, there was no reason for her to help him. But there was something about this situation - a boy with clumsy hands, trying his hardest to improve himself - that reminded her of her younger self, sweating away in Dad's workshop until late at night, falling asleep amidst the tools and the not-yet-moving parts. There was no real reason for her to help anyone who walked through these doors (other than some the notion of 'seniority' and 'being a good person') but something about watching underclassmen fumbling over themselves filled her with a sense of warmth, and helping them only made her warmer.
I think it's okay to break character once and a while, she thought. Drafting up the design for her next weapon, brushing eraser shavings off the table, she allowed herself a little smile. If there was one thing that she could take solace in amidst the drama of transferring and her flaky roommate, it was conceptualizing weapons and bringing them to life.
She discovered her Semblance at the end of her disastrous last mission at Haven. With her own weapon shattered in the fighting, her teammates incapacitated, the Grimm swung at her. In that instant between life and death she found herself finding an answer to a question she never knew she had - or at least, that was the easiest way to explain it. From then on, projecting and copying weapons that she'd seen up close was as easy as waking up in the morning.
Well, okay. It's easier than waking up in the morning, depending on the day.
Losing her own weapon meant that she now had unlimited options for picking a new one. It didn't matter if she didn't order the right metals, screws, or bullets; all she needed was a pencil and paper and anything in the world was right there for her, no shipping necessary. Even though she had a few solid options at her disposal (her old teammates' weapons, which she knew inside and out), now that she had the power to make whatever she wanted, she felt that she owed it to herself to design the perfect weapon. And with enough time and patience, she was confident she could do it.
The perfect one for me, at least.
"Hey, I think I got it."
Clair shook her head, blinking rapidly. Had she been daydreaming? Turning around, Abel was standing there with his finished product. A good few minutes had passed, and the guardian now held a completed water grenade in his hand. The trigger he'd reverse-engineered was a bit bulkier and less efficient than her design, but it would work just the same - probably.
"Looks pretty good to me. Nice job."
Abel cracked a smile as he displayed his achievement. "I think I got it. Just in time, too. Combat class is about to get started. I'll, uh, see you around then. Any more engineering hurdles, I can just call on Clair the tech wizard, huh?" Pocketing the device, he gathered up his leftover materials and placed them in a safe spot for future use. As he grabbed the Ampere from beside the door, he turned back partially and offered the senior a wave. "Later."
She waved back, letting a slight smile slip. "See you around." The workshop was silent once more.
Pencil in hand. No more distractions. For sure, she thought, she would finish this weapon today. Walking over to the supply shelves, she stopped.
"Well," she mumbled. "A little distraction once and while isn't bad."
I didn't know there were any 'pads. I figured that you all just used Google Docs until I learned about these fancy schmancy pad things.
Ease up there big fella
I got nervous because I didn't see anything posted for whatever reason. Also, since all of the freshmen are fighting, should I just come up with something for Clair to do to keep herself occupied?
@LugubriousI think I'm just waiting on Lucius to finish writing a little section and then we'll be done.
Wait, disregard that. I guess he posted it already and it didn't show up in my notifications. Whoops.
Wait, disregard that. I guess he posted it already and it didn't show up in my notifications. Whoops.
I...guess? If two and a half days isn't enough.
Oh, my bad. I missed the "on Friday" part. I assumed you were just switching ASAP.
Want to collab? Allow us to do our thing at our own time.
Yeah, sure. Let's do that. Lug, would you mind waiting until we're done? I've got time tonight so assuming Lucius does too, we could probably bang out our post pretty quick.
Either that or hopefully you'll be okay with us having an awkward flashback post.
Any objections to ending this Slice of Life section and moving on to Monday combat class on Friday?
I'd sort of like to finish my section with Gren first (given that my section with Sarina got cut off as well), but given that I've been holding everything up because of my busy schedule, I don't think you should hold everyone up on my account.
Clair Carnelian
"Moshi wha - look, never mind. I told you to wait for me, right? Where are you?" she grumbled.
Suddenly she realized that she was forgetting something important. Not the fact that she hadn't told him where she was or what time it was. She hadn't even told him her name yet.
She sighed.
I feel like I've been more rude to him at this point.
She thought for a moment.
No, scratch that. Hitting on girls first thing in the morning is nothing to be proud of. Still, though.
"Sorry, this is Clair," she said. "You met in me in the gardens, what, ten minutes ago?"
"Moshi wha - look, never mind. I told you to wait for me, right? Where are you?" she grumbled.
Suddenly she realized that she was forgetting something important. Not the fact that she hadn't told him where she was or what time it was. She hadn't even told him her name yet.
She sighed.
I feel like I've been more rude to him at this point.
She thought for a moment.
No, scratch that. Hitting on girls first thing in the morning is nothing to be proud of. Still, though.
"Sorry, this is Clair," she said. "You met in me in the gardens, what, ten minutes ago?"
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