Plank Sinatra

The Zephyr Extinct

I R I S

Iris had to giggle. Of all the new recruits, Listener, with all her contradictions and boundless energy, was the one who had made the best first impression; Iris liked her immediately. She seemed confident of her ability to get in and out of places, too, which would always be handy. But...

"Where exactly does this guy live, again?"

"Can't answer that!" Even beneath a mask, Iris could still feel the sharp edge of Archer's grin. It seemed like a pretty small thing for intelligence to figure out where someone laid their head at night, so clearly they were all being flung off the hover-bike heads-first.

She weighed that for a moment. They had all heard the ravings of the street preacher, harking for his own benefit. He had never been able to draw much of a congregation on his best day, but even now, none of the crowd seemed very invested in Ruskali's apocalypse.

"Anyone feel like shooting the breeze with him?" she joked. "If not, well, most people can't tell a high-flyer from a Ze from the ground. We're all just masks. I could kick back in the currents, listen to him vent for a while, and then follow him home. Give you an idea of where to search, Listener?"

The Zephyr Extinct

I'll have a post up later tonight!

Cancelled - until next time family. Thank you for understanding.

_{6:45 AM}

"I'm going to miss you so much. ...Fuck, I promised myself no tears. Damn it. I swear, my heart is your heart. Where I go, you go. If I had to I would take you to hell with me...but I told you, you can't come. No tears. We'll be together again soon."

Aleks Belikov crouched reverently in front of the Lotus Elise, chewing with a heartached tenderness at the corner of his bottom lip. He ran his hand reverently across the sports car's hood before bringing his fingertips to his mouth and kissing it goodbye. The fingers his lips had touched patted the car's badge, safely nestled between the headlights.

"I love you," he promised. "I'll be back."

Aleks sprung to his feet, lacing his fingers together behind his head and puffing his chest out in a large stretch, balanced precariously on the tiptoes of his running shoes. He'd spent a few hours at the garage where he'd parked his Lotus for the night; he trusted the owners implicitly to take care of her, careful to extract reassurances from all of them. She was in the rare black-and-gold Championship lineage, a couple years old and without the raw power of some of AJ's cars, but she was more than quick enough for the streets of Los Angeles, and beauty and grace were more than the equals of raw power anyway. He would go on the warpath if anyone ever sullied that car's dignity. Chris had tried to smoke in it more than once and had gotten an earful in such colorful Russian that you'd think a nuclear bombardment was imminent.

But none of that mattered. She couldn't come. Instead they would all be sealed together in a couple enclosed spaces, like orange juice and styrofoam - a certain recipe for napalm. Well, if he had to stew in the clash of egos and hormones that would be their summer-long Flight of the fucking Valkyries, he would absolutely need some alone time first. Preferably outside of a car. Who knew when he'd get a chance to run like this again. Just him--

You can dance for inspiration

--his earbuds--

Come on, I'm waiting...

--and his final LA morning until dot, dot, dot.

He started to run, taking a long, deep breath of the air. It was cool out, and would still be cool for another hour and a half or so, right up until they all gathered in the parking lot of Beverly Hills High School. By ten, the parking lot would be drowned in a sea of luggage as everyone tried to figure out who was packing what where in their limited space available. Aleks was ahead of the curve in that regard; he'd been to see AJ the night before with what belongings and outfits he thought would be fun to wear and left them over at the Tyler house. He'd been invited to stay for dinner too, but had to graciously decline. The night had been young, and Aleks had still had a lot to do before they left.

He felt the envelope of cash jostle underneath his lightweight jacket; he willed himself not to focus on it, just focus on Madonna. The beauty of her voice, the playful, flirty simplicity of her lyrics, the 80s as fuck beat...

"Geeet into the groooove, boy, you've got to proooove your love to meeeee~"

Aleks tilted his head back, arching his shoulders, enjoying the fingers of the breeze along his cheeks and in his cocoa-colored hair in a forward motion that was half a sprint and half a ballet.

He would miss Los Angeles. The people of Los Angeles connected with him in a way that self-serious London and New York hadn't, with their individualism and their vanity in equal measure - and definitely their accents, which were easier on the ears by comparison to both his old homes. The idea of leaving wasn't stressful in itself, but the city had become his home, and...well, it would be a stretch to call it familiar. He doubted L.A. was familiar for anyone, even those who spent their whole lives there. That seemed, to Aleks, like the whole point.

There will be a Starbucks around the corner. He had clocked it a few hours ago, after pulling the car into the garage. Aleks glided over the sidewalk and over the fencing around the outdoor seating, vaulting over it and finally slowing to a shuffle in front of the door. It seemed like he'd cut to the entrance in front of another runner, coming in from the opposite direction; his fingers slid across the door and held the door for him, letting the man walk in front of him as recompense. After all, he was still--

_{7:20 AM}

Way early. Nobody was in a hurry.

When it was his turn in line, Aleks turned on a megawatt smile and leaned forward, rapping his knuckles on the counter in front of the register while his eyes scanned the menu and his lips moved silently, recounting the orders he'd memorized.

"Venti iced coconut milk latte--"

Chloé.

"A venti caramel frappe, extra caramel, with the whipped cream."

Reyna.

"Another venti latte, soy..."

AJ.

"--and a venti iced white mocha, lots of whipped cream. And that'll be it."

Aleks.

"Oh. And, ah."

Aleks tilted over to the food selection, picking up a chilled fruit salad and one of the dark chocolate bars in front of the register.

"And that'll be it."

His eyes found the barista's and his smile grew wider, even though he was wincing internally. As much as he had an ear for accents, his own infuriated him the most. He'd been working on it over the four years he'd lived in America, and even though he'd never seen his mother country, it was hard to shake the accent that you grew up with in your home. His childhood in England had taken its toll, too, and the more Aleks talked the more painfully aware he was that his accent had become a sort of Russian-influenced British creole. Smoky, mysterious, James Bond-ish, "basically like listening to sex during group project presentations" if you listened to AJ or Chloé. He noticed the imperfections, though. It made him want to cringe.

"Name for the order?"

"Um, Aleks. Thanks."

He paid for the order and drifted over to pick up straws for the quartet of drinks, singing Madonna under his breath right up until it was time to collect the coffee. On his way out the door, he thought, idly, to take a peek at the label on his iced mocha.

ALEX

"They'll be spelling it like that all fucking summer," he cursed under his breath to himself as he continued his run to the high school. Aleks wasn't hard to get right, considering his noticeable accent and the endless permutations of every single fucking name in America. His last boyfriend's name was Chasten, for Christ's sake. What fucking name was that. "I'm going to see more Xes than I did at prom."

He started to jog faster, as if those exes might still be after him.

---

_{7:52 AM}

Oh, he's early. Cool.

"Cosmosssssss! You ready? I hope no one bails, it's not often my dad let's me take this beast out."

"I cannot imagine anyone will bail." Aleks joined his two index fingers and thumbs together into a makeshift camera lens, zooming in on AJ and miming camera clicks with his teeth. A coquettish smile grew across the Russian's face as his subject kept zooming in closer towards him. "I mean, it's a piece of history. The original meth lab from Breaking Bad. Who would want to watch it on Netflix when they can fuck and get drunk in the real thing?"

AJ made a face and stepped closer to him to get his latte; Aleks took the opportunity to break his imaginary camera lens and ruffle AJ's thick, unruly hair, closing the distance between them for an affectionate greeting. His gaze, though, had already drifted back to the RV.

"Huh." he mused to himself quietly, before adding: "You get any sleep?"

The Fading Light of V'landriel

This is a LOT to get into by the looks of the compendium, but I have nothing but love in my heart for fellow lore nerds. I'd be interested in this.

The Zephyr Extinct

Blugh, sorry for the late reply on this. I've been fighting a cold, and my little brother just flew in from out of the country and he's already sick, so...stressful couple days. But Iris intro is up!

The Zephyr Extinct

I R I S

She felt like she was walking on stilts this morning.

For a girl who stood as tall as Iris, a masked head over nearly all her contemporaries, walking was always an ungainly way to travel. On a glider or her beloved bike, she was as graceful as the birds she shared the currents with, flitting and turning as though she and her vessel were one unit, guided by telepathy. When you spent your whole life in the skies, there was nothing to feel self-conscious of - until you touched the ground, in which case it was hard to shake that unease away. It felt more confining than a mask ever could.

Still, Iris made the best of it as she maneuvered her way through the markets of Rig, stopping only occasionally to fawn over a few down-to-earth looking necklaces or to purchase a peach. She enjoyed sparing bites of it on her way through the markets, careful not to lift her mask up to reveal more than the sleek, strong cast of her tanned jawline, which clenched with every chew and grew even tauter with each sweet aftertaste. She almost considered picking up a scarf, too, but none of the colors appealed to her; as a child of the skies, she liked to dress in sky blues and whites, and if she must pick a yellow she preferred to at least pick darker yellows or oranges, the ones that evoked the rising and setting of the sun from a perch on the skyline. Green was never her thing. It wasn't like she needed to bring out her eyes or anything.

It also wasn't like the good-natured profiteers who clotted the arteries of Rig would acknowledge any of that, not when there was a charm offensive to be mounted and money to be made.

"Nice clothes! Complement them with a sash?"

"A high-flyer! I can always tell a high-flyer's mask! Can I interest you in one of my new kites, my wife weaves the finest--"

"Strapping sir! A shawl for your valiant shoulders today?"

C'mon, man...is it that hard to tell now...

Still, she had to grin behind her mask. She thought about deepening her voice and barking out a "No" as a gentle prank, but she was probably running late as it was. Relief flooded through her when she finally reached Archer and saw a couple other initiates, all bent over the chest of weapons and trying to select their new weapons. Iris waited patiently behind one in a floral looking mask - she didn't like to bend over; it somehow made her look even more towering, like she was looming over someone - and selected an intricately carved Bo staff, almost long enough to resemble a flagpole. In fact, given the ornamental piece at the end akin to a blunted spearhead, it may in fact have supported some regalia in a prior life. Maybe Rig's flag, maybe another city-state outside the borders. For all her love of flight, Iris had rarely ventured far beyond where Rig's skyline could see her. Even the sky, with no visible borders, had dark patches where wiser men and women were wary to soar.

Whoa, I gotta stop contemplating so much. The sunny smile grew beneath her mask again, and her teeth scraped a drop of peach juice from her bottom lip.

She spun the staff in her hand and whistled; it felt perfectly weighted to her grip.

"I'm glad someone else was already thinking of naming theirs," she jested to the girl who had buried her head in the armory chest before her. "It was gonna bug me all night if I was the only one."

The Zephyr Extinct

I'll have my reply up later today!

The Zephyr Extinct

Yeah, I'm fine with action here and there, but I love the atmosphere and setting of this game and I'd like a chance to explore them both fully.

The Zephyr Extinct

IRIS

WHAT WAS YOUR CHARACTER'S NAME? WHAT IS THE CODENAME THEY NOW GO BY AS A ZE?
Name by birth was Odette Fouquet (a suuuuper embarrasing rhyme.) Now she goes by Iris.

DESCRIBE YOUR CHARACTER'S MASK AND APPEARANCE.
Iris' mask is a handsome, if austere, piece of ceramic, expertly hand-crafted in the style of the hoverbikers that flit through the skies of Rig. Its sharp edges and angular style are crafted in the starkest facsimile of the human face, leaving its intended sex and the sex of its wearer underneath ambiguous. Underneath, her eyes are as blue as the skies she soars in, and a short crop of blonde hair frames an often-smiling face as androgynous as her mask. The wearer herself stands just under six and a half feet tall, intimidating by anyone's standards; her muscular, athletic figure usually strains against the sleeveless shirts and shorts she feels comfortable wearing in more athletic counters, and her skin is the healthy tan of a young woman who spends her time in the skies. (Inspiration)

WHAT IS A STRANGER'S FIRST IMPRESSION UPON MEETING THEM? HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER SEE THEMSELVES?
Iris' height and musculature is immediately disarming, but so too is her charm. Far from some golem used for intimidation factor, she sees herself as a particularly large stuffed animal, open and gregarious without being overbearing. She's a person who is just as comfortable gabbing for hours as she is to spend those hours with her head in the clouds.

WHERE DID THEY GROW UP? WHERE DO THEY FEEL AT HOME?
Iris was one of the many young men and women who spent their lives in the skies and atop the buildings of Rig. The hang-gliding and hoverbiking communities were more than just lovers of idle pastimes, they were followers of a way of life, with a sort of easy-going rapport between family units that would often translate to a support system. The vertical gardens of Rig and the small, lush markets on its rooftops needed people to tend them, and Iris grew up happily entrenched in such a lifestyle. She grew through the typical rebelliousness of the high-flying hoverbikers (riding your bike too fast, not holding onto someone while sitting secondary, not wearing your protective mask to keep out the bugs, wind, and sun...) into a girl with a sunny disposition and a belief in the goodness of people, similar to those she grew up with. She is still most at ease in the skies, riding a bike or lounging atop one of the gardens that dots the rooftops of Rig.

WHO ARE (WERE) THE MOST IMPORTANT PEOPLE IN THEIR LIVES?
The "high-flyers" are taught to love all those who live their lives in the skies of Rig as though they were all surrogate parents. This "takes a village" mantra helps expose children to the potential wealth of knowledge and skill available in every human, but it also helped blunt the feelings of loss that one might feel if they lost a parent before their time. Especially during the darkest days of the infection, when Nox were a constant threat, this policy helped comfort those who may otherwise have lost their entire family. It may seem strange to those who dwell in the streets, but it is an open-hearted, loose definition of family that the high-flyers have embraced - although it can be an insular one, as high-flyers are also expected to "tread wind currents," so to speak, and remain to impart their knowledge into the next generation in turn. So, while Iris still obviously loves her parents, she finds it hard to consider them - or anyone - more important to her than anyone else. The whole community, everyone you may see when you look up to the skies, is equally dear to her. Call that naive if you want.

WHAT IS THEIR PROFESSION, SKILL OR LIFESTYLE? WHAT DO THEY THINK THEIR STRENGTHS ARE? WHAT ARE THEIR ACTUAL STRENGTHS?
Iris is still very much a high-flyer at heart, and has always spent much of her free time atop her hoverbike, tending to the rooftop gardens gardens or searching for the city's prettiest vistas from a birds-eye view. This also makes her adept at location scouting and surveying, as she knows crannies of buildings and potential meeting spots that those who've spent their lives on the ground could never dream of.

Occasionally, while enjoying a perch on some high-up branch or seated atop her bike enjoying stained glass in the morning sun, she'll start to scribble out some of her own ideas for the city's architecture, new places where greenery could flow or an enclave for the high-flyers could go. Unfortunately, she's a little too late to be much of the pioneer that she thinks she is, but still, her inventive and asymmetrical approach to problem-solving and endless wellspring of creativity shouldn't go unappreciated.

WHAT ARE THEIR FEARS, FLAWS AND SECRETS?
Iris would tell you that her fears are no different than anyone else's - Nox left their scars on all of Rig, and Iris fears them as most sane people do. She also fears losing anyone close to her, so she would tell you, but the truth is that there is no one who is truly close to her; in the past she's skirted the edges of promiscuity, and even to this day she moves through life as though she's still atop her hoverbike, keeping her acquaintances exhilarating but fleeting. Forging deep, long-lasting connections that are unique between two people don't come easily for her; they weren't an important part of the culture she was raised in.

WHAT DO THEY WANT MOST? WHAT DO THEY ACTUALLY NEED?
Iris desires nothing more than to chip in and keep a post-Nox world spinning - she wants a world where she can still soar through the skies, with a whiff of soil in her nose and the sun on her back and her mask. This too, though, is a sort of "common" desire, not one really specific to her. What she needs is something that goes beyond the communal, something that truly motivates her beyond what she thinks is best for those around her.

WHY DID THEY JOIN THE ZEPHYR EXTINCT?
Iris needed to create her own identity. Communal need is all that she's ever known, and creating a whole name and mask for herself - even if they still bear some influence from her old life - is one step towards becoming a person independent from everything she's ever known. It should be healthy for her. The Zephyr Extinct forced her to make those choices for herself, while still allowing her to serve the City of Rig's common good. It was the perfect compromise for her.

HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE THIS CHARACTER CHANGE AND DEVELOP?
I'd like to see Iris fully achieve her own individuality over the course of this game, pouring more and more of her own drives and desires into this new identity she's made. All she's ever known is a happy-go-lucky lifestyle that values pitching in and communal values, which is important - it's given her a strong moral compass - but one that's cost her quite a bit of her own individuality. In a way, she's someone who has been given more freedom with this name and mask than she had in her old life. I would like to see that explored more.

PITCH A SMALL SUBPLOT THAT WOULD BE PERSONALLY MEANINGFUL TO YOUR CHARACTER.
Since Iris still likes to indulge in taking to the skies on her bike or in a hang-glider, I'd like to see someone in one of those insular, "everyone recognizes everyone" style gardens recognize her (because how can you not get a load of the 6'6 girl with the loudspeaker voice???) and challenge her on whether becoming a Ze operative is just a flight of fancy for her, and whether this new mask and lifestyle was worth abandoning the freedom and the community that everyone she's ever known has tried to foster.

The Zephyr Extinct

IRIS

WHAT WAS YOUR CHARACTER'S NAME? WHAT IS THE CODENAME THEY NOW GO BY AS A ZE?
Name by birth was Odette Fouquet (a suuuuper embarrasing rhyme.) Now she goes by Iris.

DESCRIBE YOUR CHARACTER'S MASK AND APPEARANCE.
Iris' mask is a handsome, if austere, piece of ceramic, expertly hand-crafted in the style of the hoverbikers that flit through the skies of Rig. Its sharp edges and angular style are crafted in the starkest facsimile of the human face, leaving its intended sex and the sex of its wearer underneath ambiguous. Underneath, her eyes are as blue as the skies she soars in, and a short crop of blonde hair frames an often-smiling face as androgynous as her mask. The wearer herself stands just under six and a half feet tall, intimidating by anyone's standards; her muscular, athletic figure usually strains against the sleeveless shirts and shorts she feels comfortable wearing in more athletic counters, and her skin is the healthy tan of a young woman who spends her time in the skies. (Inspiration)

WHAT IS A STRANGER'S FIRST IMPRESSION UPON MEETING THEM? HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER SEE THEMSELVES?
Iris' height and musculature is immediately disarming, but so too is her charm. Far from some golem used for intimidation factor, she sees herself as a particularly large stuffed animal, open and gregarious without being overbearing. She's a person who is just as comfortable gabbing for hours as she is to spend those hours with her head in the clouds.

WHERE DID THEY GROW UP? WHERE DO THEY FEEL AT HOME?
Iris was one of the many young men and women who spent their lives in the skies and atop the buildings of Rig. The hang-gliding and hoverbiking communities were more than just lovers of idle pastimes, they were followers of a way of life, with a sort of easy-going rapport between family units that would often translate to a support system. The vertical gardens of Rig and the small, lush markets on its rooftops needed people to tend them, and Iris grew up happily entrenched in such a lifestyle. She grew through the typical rebelliousness of the high-flying hoverbikers (riding your bike too fast, not holding onto someone while sitting secondary, not wearing your protective mask to keep out the bugs, wind, and sun...) into a girl with a sunny disposition and a belief in the goodness of people, similar to those she grew up with. She is still most at ease in the skies, riding a bike or lounging atop one of the gardens that dots the rooftops of Rig.

WHO ARE (WERE) THE MOST IMPORTANT PEOPLE IN THEIR LIVES?
The "high-flyers" are taught to love all those who live their lives in the skies of Rig as though they were all surrogate parents. This "takes a village" mantra helps expose children to the potential wealth of knowledge and skill available in every human, but it also helped blunt the feelings of loss that one might feel if they lost a parent before their time. Especially during the darkest days of the infection, when Nox were a constant threat, this policy helped comfort those who may otherwise have lost their entire family. It may seem strange to those who dwell in the streets, but it is an open-hearted, loose definition of family that the high-flyers have embraced - although it can be an insular one, as high-flyers are also expected to "tread wind currents," so to speak, and remain to impart their knowledge into the next generation in turn. So, while Iris still obviously loves her parents, she finds it hard to consider them - or anyone - more important to her than anyone else. The whole community, everyone you may see when you look up to the skies, is equally dear to her. Call that naive if you want.

WHAT IS THEIR PROFESSION, SKILL OR LIFESTYLE? WHAT DO THEY THINK THEIR STRENGTHS ARE? WHAT ARE THEIR ACTUAL STRENGTHS?
Iris is still very much a high-flyer at heart, and has always spent much of her free time atop her hoverbike, tending to the rooftop gardens gardens or searching for the city's prettiest vistas from a birds-eye view. This also makes her adept at location scouting and surveying, as she knows crannies of buildings and potential meeting spots that those who've spent their lives on the ground could never dream of.

Occasionally, while enjoying a perch on some high-up branch or seated atop her bike enjoying stained glass in the morning sun, she'll start to scribble out some of her own ideas for the city's architecture, new places where greenery could flow or an enclave for the high-flyers could go. Unfortunately, she's a little too late to be much of the pioneer that she thinks she is, but still, her inventive and asymmetrical approach to problem-solving and endless wellspring of creativity shouldn't go unappreciated.

WHAT ARE THEIR FEARS, FLAWS AND SECRETS?
Iris would tell you that her fears are no different than anyone else's - Nox left their scars on all of Rig, and Iris fears them as most sane people do. She also fears losing anyone close to her, so she would tell you, but the truth is that there is no one who is truly close to her; in the past she's skirted the edges of promiscuity, and even to this day she moves through life as though she's still atop her hoverbike, keeping her acquaintances exhilarating but fleeting. Forging deep, long-lasting connections that are unique between two people don't come easily for her; they weren't an important part of the culture she was raised in.

WHAT DO THEY WANT MOST? WHAT DO THEY ACTUALLY NEED?
Iris desires nothing more than to chip in and keep a post-Nox world spinning - she wants a world where she can still soar through the skies, with a whiff of soil in her nose and the sun on her back and her mask. This too, though, is a sort of "common" desire, not one really specific to her. What she needs is something that goes beyond the communal, something that truly motivates her beyond what she thinks is best for those around her.

WHY DID THEY JOIN THE ZEPHYR EXTINCT?
Iris needed to create her own identity. Communal need is all that she's ever known, and creating a whole name and mask for herself - even if they still bear some influence from her old life - is one step towards becoming a person independent from everything she's ever known. It should be healthy for her. The Zephyr Extinct forced her to make those choices for herself, while still allowing her to serve the City of Rig's common good. It was the perfect compromise for her.

HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE THIS CHARACTER CHANGE AND DEVELOP?
I'd like to see Iris fully achieve her own individuality over the course of this game, pouring more and more of her own drives and desires into this new identity she's made. All she's ever known is a happy-go-lucky lifestyle that values pitching in and communal values, which is important - it's given her a strong moral compass - but one that's cost her quite a bit of her own individuality. In a way, she's someone who has been given more freedom with this name and mask than she had in her old life. I would like to see that explored more.

PITCH A SMALL SUBPLOT THAT WOULD BE PERSONALLY MEANINGFUL TO YOUR CHARACTER.
Since Iris still likes to indulge in taking to the skies on her bike or in a hang-glider, I'd like to see someone in one of those insular, "everyone recognizes everyone" style gardens recognize her (because how can you not get a load of the 6'6 girl with the loudspeaker voice???) and challenge her on whether becoming a Ze operative is just a flight of fancy for her, and whether this new mask and lifestyle was worth abandoning the freedom and the community that everyone she's ever known has tried to foster.