No problem at all, they're great:)
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Name: Fox Marshall
Age: 24
Appearance: Fox is well built, standing at 5’11 in height. His hair is shaven closely to his head – a buzz cut – which stands testament to his time in the army. Across his back he is burdened by deep scars and as such he is rarely seen without a shirt on. His eyes are a cold, piercing blue; contrary to his kind-hearted personality, despite often coming across as blunt. He is handsome, but possibly not in the usual sense. His jaw is strong, and his face takes on a stern and intimidating expression while he is not concentrating on making it appear otherwise – mostly when he is relaxed.
History: Joining the army was supposed to mark the beginning of Fox’s life, when in fact it nearly marked its end. School had been a struggle for Fox and he often found himself in trouble. Even if he didn’t go looking for it, trouble would more often than not find him. Fights were frequent, and moving schools became almost routine. His parents, as wealthy as they were, could not fix his behavioural issues. Money was paid and he was eventually diagnosed with dyslexia, but this did little but damage his ego. His school work became less than satisfactory and viable schools were in short supply.
However, Fox was not stupid. No, he was far from stupid. He may not have been able to complete simple maths equations, or even read without difficulty, but he was clever. Not just clever; he was organised, in-tune with his surroundings and most importantly, good at reading situations. This enabled him to be good at what he did, and what he did was fight. If he didn’t start a fight, he would surely end it, and if he did start a fight it was with good reason. He found himself fast becoming a hero around the schools he joined. Bullies were his favourite target, simply because of their arrogance. While Jackson was often dragged to the Head’s office for the breaking of a nose, he would smile, knowing that he had done the right thing.
It wasn’t until he neared the end of his secondary education that joining the army became an option that was made apparent to Fox. A teacher – one he had formed a strong bond with at his final school before college – often talked of his own days serving in the army. He too had struggled at school, much to the surprise of Fox, and had told him how he had left for the army the moment it was legal. It had changed his life, most notably teaching him the art of respect. Once he left the army, after earning the title of Lieutenant General, finding a job became easier. Using the money he earned from the jobs he worked he was finally able to go to night school and earn the qualifications required for his job. Not once did this teacher tell Fox that he should join the army, but it became apparent that it was the best option he had.
Fox joined the army and found himself at ease with the regimented lifestyle. The early waking hours and minimal sleep hardly phased him, and he was able to push himself further than he had ever considered. Although already healthy and active, Fox found comfort in regular exercise at the gym and bulked up considerably, and despite the fact he had only served for a few months before his first leave, he was already being observed by those in positions of power who saw great potential in him.
During Fox's first leave home he happened to meet Li after she was stood up by a date. He went over to strike up conversation, and what he had only thought of as a kind gesture turned into a long conversation, and a lasting relationship. Li was aware of Fox's profession but was willing to see him leave for months at a time. Not long after meeting Li, Fox had to return to Afghanistan. But on his leave back in England, Li and Fox grew close. Eventually Fox planned to leave the army to set up a life with Li, and he did leave the army, just not in the way he had wanted to.
IEDs are devastating pieces or equipment.
Two years after serving in Afghanistan the worst happened. During a routine convoy to Camp Bastion an IED detonated beneath the vehicle that Jackson and five others were in. Out of the six men and women in the vehicle only two returned home; or one and a half as Abigale so often put it. Abigale, the other survivor, had lost both of her legs during the disaster. Fox had been lucky, but that hardly felt like the right way to describe it. Shrapnel had been buried deep in his back. He was hospitalised for months, told that he may never be able to walk again. It was against the odds that Fox recovered, suffering only from mild back pain. This back pain was enough to prevent Fox from joining the army once again, something he was keen to do. After finishing rehabilitation Fox lived off of his compensation and money loaned by his parents, not wanting to borrow any money from Li. Though his parents were rarely ever in the picture, they were aware of how happy Li make Fox, and the good she was doing him. For this reason they loaned him enough money to split the cost for a small coattage in the countryside, far away from any reminders of London and the time he spent in rehabilitation. They settled into their new life with ease, and although the scars of war still remained prominent in Fox's mind and on his body, the day death had played it's card began to feel like a lifetime ago.
Abilities/Skills: Due to his time spent in the army Fox is skilled with firearms and general hand-to-hand combat. He always keeps his SIG Sauer P226 nearby his bedside simply as a precaution.
Age: 24
Appearance: Fox is well built, standing at 5’11 in height. His hair is shaven closely to his head – a buzz cut – which stands testament to his time in the army. Across his back he is burdened by deep scars and as such he is rarely seen without a shirt on. His eyes are a cold, piercing blue; contrary to his kind-hearted personality, despite often coming across as blunt. He is handsome, but possibly not in the usual sense. His jaw is strong, and his face takes on a stern and intimidating expression while he is not concentrating on making it appear otherwise – mostly when he is relaxed.
History: Joining the army was supposed to mark the beginning of Fox’s life, when in fact it nearly marked its end. School had been a struggle for Fox and he often found himself in trouble. Even if he didn’t go looking for it, trouble would more often than not find him. Fights were frequent, and moving schools became almost routine. His parents, as wealthy as they were, could not fix his behavioural issues. Money was paid and he was eventually diagnosed with dyslexia, but this did little but damage his ego. His school work became less than satisfactory and viable schools were in short supply.
However, Fox was not stupid. No, he was far from stupid. He may not have been able to complete simple maths equations, or even read without difficulty, but he was clever. Not just clever; he was organised, in-tune with his surroundings and most importantly, good at reading situations. This enabled him to be good at what he did, and what he did was fight. If he didn’t start a fight, he would surely end it, and if he did start a fight it was with good reason. He found himself fast becoming a hero around the schools he joined. Bullies were his favourite target, simply because of their arrogance. While Jackson was often dragged to the Head’s office for the breaking of a nose, he would smile, knowing that he had done the right thing.
It wasn’t until he neared the end of his secondary education that joining the army became an option that was made apparent to Fox. A teacher – one he had formed a strong bond with at his final school before college – often talked of his own days serving in the army. He too had struggled at school, much to the surprise of Fox, and had told him how he had left for the army the moment it was legal. It had changed his life, most notably teaching him the art of respect. Once he left the army, after earning the title of Lieutenant General, finding a job became easier. Using the money he earned from the jobs he worked he was finally able to go to night school and earn the qualifications required for his job. Not once did this teacher tell Fox that he should join the army, but it became apparent that it was the best option he had.
Fox joined the army and found himself at ease with the regimented lifestyle. The early waking hours and minimal sleep hardly phased him, and he was able to push himself further than he had ever considered. Although already healthy and active, Fox found comfort in regular exercise at the gym and bulked up considerably, and despite the fact he had only served for a few months before his first leave, he was already being observed by those in positions of power who saw great potential in him.
During Fox's first leave home he happened to meet Li after she was stood up by a date. He went over to strike up conversation, and what he had only thought of as a kind gesture turned into a long conversation, and a lasting relationship. Li was aware of Fox's profession but was willing to see him leave for months at a time. Not long after meeting Li, Fox had to return to Afghanistan. But on his leave back in England, Li and Fox grew close. Eventually Fox planned to leave the army to set up a life with Li, and he did leave the army, just not in the way he had wanted to.
IEDs are devastating pieces or equipment.
Two years after serving in Afghanistan the worst happened. During a routine convoy to Camp Bastion an IED detonated beneath the vehicle that Jackson and five others were in. Out of the six men and women in the vehicle only two returned home; or one and a half as Abigale so often put it. Abigale, the other survivor, had lost both of her legs during the disaster. Fox had been lucky, but that hardly felt like the right way to describe it. Shrapnel had been buried deep in his back. He was hospitalised for months, told that he may never be able to walk again. It was against the odds that Fox recovered, suffering only from mild back pain. This back pain was enough to prevent Fox from joining the army once again, something he was keen to do. After finishing rehabilitation Fox lived off of his compensation and money loaned by his parents, not wanting to borrow any money from Li. Though his parents were rarely ever in the picture, they were aware of how happy Li make Fox, and the good she was doing him. For this reason they loaned him enough money to split the cost for a small coattage in the countryside, far away from any reminders of London and the time he spent in rehabilitation. They settled into their new life with ease, and although the scars of war still remained prominent in Fox's mind and on his body, the day death had played it's card began to feel like a lifetime ago.
Abilities/Skills: Due to his time spent in the army Fox is skilled with firearms and general hand-to-hand combat. He always keeps his SIG Sauer P226 nearby his bedside simply as a precaution.
[discontinued because my partner has bailed]
Fox
A heavy rain began to fall, softening the mud around Fox's feet so that it moulded perfectly to the tread of his boots as he trekked up the garden footpath. His eyes watched the surrounding area intently, but his main focus lay in the distance. Down the hill to his right, and past the dirt-track which was supposedly their drive-way sat the village of Esterwater - a small hamlet which was spread out across the subtle rise and fall of the countryside. The village was framed perfectly in a dull orange glow as lightbulbs flickered into life and the skies clouded over, leaving little in the way of natural light. Leaves were pulled from the trees that lined the road and garden and were caught in the frenzied wind, twisting and turning before falling at Fox's feet, getting stuck against his clothing and the shopping bags he carried. He knew a gale was moving in, but that was not the cause of his concern.
The drone of a distant siren loomed in the distance, and although Fox couldn't locate its source, he was aware of the faint red and blue glow that tainted the otherwise uneventful scene of Esterwater. However, instead of lingering he nudged open the gate to the front garden and continued up the path; which he was thankful had been paved closer to the house. After crossing the small front garden he climbed a short flight of stone steps, pushed open another gate - which he closed behind him - and made his way hastily under the narrow porch above the front door. For a moment he regarded Esterwater once more, scrutinising the landscape in a final attempt to glean a shred of information. He narrowed his eyes and briefly caught the yellow and green of an ambulance, shortly followed by two police cars as they came into view along the country road leading into the village. Nothing out of the ordinary, he supposed, breaking his gaze.
"Baby, I'm home." He called, opening the front door and sliding off his boots by the shoe rack. There was no response, but he assumed Li had heard him. A quick glance at his watch - digital, to make it easier for him - told Fox that it was nearing eight o'clock. The Summer evenings meant that it was yet to get dark, but despite this the clouds gave the appearance of an early dusk.
"Something strange is going on in the village," Fox shouted, moving into the kitchen and unpacking his shopping onto the dining table. He continued to call to Li as he did so. "I saw... err, what's her name, y'know... Sophie and her husband packing up a car as I went into the shop. They looked like they were in a rush. Didn't get a chance to talk to them." He took out a loaf of fresh bread, unsheathed a serrated knife from the knife stand, and began to cut it into thick slices as he elaborated. "... And you better enjoy this sandwich because this was the last they had in the shop. The shelves were bare and-" He paused, quickly taking a mouthful of packaged ham. "-there were police cars as well, somethings up."
Without paying much attention to what he was doing, Fox slathered the bread in butter, his eyes fixated on the kitchen window which overlooked their garden and Esterwater. There was nothing new to see. He finished the sandwich he was making for Li, placing ham and cheese on a slice of bread and then topping it with another slice before moving through the entrance hall and into the living room on the opposite side of the house. He placed both his plate and Li's on the coffee table before lowering himself gradually onto the sofa, his back protesting as he did so; a searing pain originating from the bottom of his spine and spreading to his shoulder blades.
Fox reached for the TV remote and turned it on, bathing the otherwise unlit room in a subdued light as re-runs played on the screen. He paid them little attention, instead flicking through channels - hoping to find something of interest - when he found himself on the eight o'clock news. He often watched the news to stay up to date with the war effort, but rarely for anything else. This time he found himself hesitating before changing channels as a short clip of a hospital swamped by ambulances played out. The banner at the bottom of the screen read: Hospitals facing overwhelming number of patients within the last twenty-four hours, though Fox could hardly understand the words, and when the clip came to an end a young woman began to report on the various numbers of patients arriving at hospitals across the country. 'Until the cause of the rise in hospital admissions has been identified, the public are advised to keep contact with others to a minimum,' she began after reading a list of statistics. 'It is also advised that relocation be avoided until the World Health Organisation can contain the cause. We are assured that the outbreak poses no major threat to public health.'
"Jesus..." Fox muttered, lowering the volume on the TV. "Li, come down here. Tell me what you make of this."
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Fox
A heavy rain began to fall, softening the mud around Fox's feet so that it moulded perfectly to the tread of his boots as he trekked up the garden footpath. His eyes watched the surrounding area intently, but his main focus lay in the distance. Down the hill to his right, and past the dirt-track which was supposedly their drive-way sat the village of Esterwater - a small hamlet which was spread out across the subtle rise and fall of the countryside. The village was framed perfectly in a dull orange glow as lightbulbs flickered into life and the skies clouded over, leaving little in the way of natural light. Leaves were pulled from the trees that lined the road and garden and were caught in the frenzied wind, twisting and turning before falling at Fox's feet, getting stuck against his clothing and the shopping bags he carried. He knew a gale was moving in, but that was not the cause of his concern.
The drone of a distant siren loomed in the distance, and although Fox couldn't locate its source, he was aware of the faint red and blue glow that tainted the otherwise uneventful scene of Esterwater. However, instead of lingering he nudged open the gate to the front garden and continued up the path; which he was thankful had been paved closer to the house. After crossing the small front garden he climbed a short flight of stone steps, pushed open another gate - which he closed behind him - and made his way hastily under the narrow porch above the front door. For a moment he regarded Esterwater once more, scrutinising the landscape in a final attempt to glean a shred of information. He narrowed his eyes and briefly caught the yellow and green of an ambulance, shortly followed by two police cars as they came into view along the country road leading into the village. Nothing out of the ordinary, he supposed, breaking his gaze.
"Baby, I'm home." He called, opening the front door and sliding off his boots by the shoe rack. There was no response, but he assumed Li had heard him. A quick glance at his watch - digital, to make it easier for him - told Fox that it was nearing eight o'clock. The Summer evenings meant that it was yet to get dark, but despite this the clouds gave the appearance of an early dusk.
"Something strange is going on in the village," Fox shouted, moving into the kitchen and unpacking his shopping onto the dining table. He continued to call to Li as he did so. "I saw... err, what's her name, y'know... Sophie and her husband packing up a car as I went into the shop. They looked like they were in a rush. Didn't get a chance to talk to them." He took out a loaf of fresh bread, unsheathed a serrated knife from the knife stand, and began to cut it into thick slices as he elaborated. "... And you better enjoy this sandwich because this was the last they had in the shop. The shelves were bare and-" He paused, quickly taking a mouthful of packaged ham. "-there were police cars as well, somethings up."
Without paying much attention to what he was doing, Fox slathered the bread in butter, his eyes fixated on the kitchen window which overlooked their garden and Esterwater. There was nothing new to see. He finished the sandwich he was making for Li, placing ham and cheese on a slice of bread and then topping it with another slice before moving through the entrance hall and into the living room on the opposite side of the house. He placed both his plate and Li's on the coffee table before lowering himself gradually onto the sofa, his back protesting as he did so; a searing pain originating from the bottom of his spine and spreading to his shoulder blades.
Fox reached for the TV remote and turned it on, bathing the otherwise unlit room in a subdued light as re-runs played on the screen. He paid them little attention, instead flicking through channels - hoping to find something of interest - when he found himself on the eight o'clock news. He often watched the news to stay up to date with the war effort, but rarely for anything else. This time he found himself hesitating before changing channels as a short clip of a hospital swamped by ambulances played out. The banner at the bottom of the screen read: Hospitals facing overwhelming number of patients within the last twenty-four hours, though Fox could hardly understand the words, and when the clip came to an end a young woman began to report on the various numbers of patients arriving at hospitals across the country. 'Until the cause of the rise in hospital admissions has been identified, the public are advised to keep contact with others to a minimum,' she began after reading a list of statistics. 'It is also advised that relocation be avoided until the World Health Organisation can contain the cause. We are assured that the outbreak poses no major threat to public health.'
"Jesus..." Fox muttered, lowering the volume on the TV. "Li, come down here. Tell me what you make of this."
So, I've been away from the guild for a while and want to ease myself back in Rping. I'm looking for a partner who is looking to stick around, willing to contribute/push forward a story, tell me if there are problems, and most importantly be honest. (You don't like my writing style?- that's cool just let me know. You're not enjoying the Rp?- please tell me and we can talk, and if you want we'll call it off)
I enjoy:
-Sci-Fi
-Post-apocalyptic (a personal favourite, I love survival RPs)
Not a great load, but I really am open to a variety of stories, so if you want to pm me with an idea I'll let you know what I think.
Post length - now, I really like advanced writing. I'm not really into one paragraph posts. I'll go anywhere from 5 paragraphs upwards, but I know that as a story gets going the posts sometimes have to be shorter. I'm picky, and I hate it, but I just can't get immersed in a story if my partner doesn't write well. Don't be worried by that though, I'll be honest with you if I don't think we will work well, but I am also here to help if you are looking to improve:)
So please pm me if you want to start an Rp that we don't rush into and begin the moment you tell me you're interested. I want to talk, discuss ideas etc.
(Forgive me for any typos, I'm tired and on a phone!)
I enjoy:
-Sci-Fi
-Post-apocalyptic (a personal favourite, I love survival RPs)
Not a great load, but I really am open to a variety of stories, so if you want to pm me with an idea I'll let you know what I think.
Post length - now, I really like advanced writing. I'm not really into one paragraph posts. I'll go anywhere from 5 paragraphs upwards, but I know that as a story gets going the posts sometimes have to be shorter. I'm picky, and I hate it, but I just can't get immersed in a story if my partner doesn't write well. Don't be worried by that though, I'll be honest with you if I don't think we will work well, but I am also here to help if you are looking to improve:)
So please pm me if you want to start an Rp that we don't rush into and begin the moment you tell me you're interested. I want to talk, discuss ideas etc.
(Forgive me for any typos, I'm tired and on a phone!)
Was I late to the greeting party? Welcome Rexblades. Please, sit down, enjoy some cake and... no wait DON'T eat the cake, DO NOT EAT THE CAKE
Posted. Spell-checked but haven't had a chance to do a final read through so sorry if words are repeated etc.
Oh and Kapu, it might look slightly odd that my post is after yours as it only talks about what happens up to the point that Lucania and Evilina get to the bar, just a heads up.
The pair walked side-by-side in the warm late-afternoon breeze, a cigarette hanging loosely between Sydney's fingers and a cigar resting between Jackson's lips. The air was heavy, harbouring a dank aroma that had manifested steadily alongside the ever-growing poverty-stricken populace of the slums, and accompanying it, a sinister undertone that seemed to linger wherever one retreated. The scent of gunpowder, or of blood. Underfoot shattered glass crunched, and litter lined the edges of streets and alleyways in such a way that the ground underneath could rarely be seen. It was less of a home to the poor, and more of an elaborate trap designed to coax the non-contributing members of society into an early grave.
"This isn't good, is it, Jackson?" Sydney asked. Her voice was naturally raspy, seductive according to men of The Dust. Even in the gravest of situations it had the tendency to sound a little too laid back.
"No..." He replied, breathing in a lungful of smoke and exhaling slowly. "It's not."
They turned onto a narrow alleyway in silence. Against the decrepit walls lay groups of bodies, some afforded the luxury of a sleeping bag - despite the heat of the day not calling for one, others huddled beneath cardboard boxes or amongst a swath of rubbish. Jackson eyed each one with scrutiny. Their faces were obscured, but needless to say he recognized some simply by their size and shape, or the manner in which they curled up in an attempt to block out the fact of their bleak existence. It took only a moment before his gaze landed upon a luminous orange sleeping bag with the outline of a malnourished young man beneath its fabric. Jackson rested his boot on the man's side and rolled him over so that a pair of sleep-deprived eyes met his own.
"Money first," was all Jackson said.
"Jackson, hey..." The man's eyes were wide, and ringed with dark lines and creases. He was more a boy than a man, having only just passed by his teenage years - as drug-fuelled and hazy as they may have been - yet he looked older. His face was gaunt and the skin hung from his bones in an appalling fashion. It was a pathetic sight, really. "Look. I'm real sorry but-"
"Cut the bullshit, Twitch, I know you've got something to trade. You pay up or we leave."
The young man, Twitch, sat up and looked about the alleyway. His head twitched to one side every couple of seconds and his hands clasped at the sleeping bag that covered his deteriorating wreck of a body. No one appeared to be awake. Even so, anyone who was awake would likely be uninterested in what he had to say.
"I... er, I can't buy from you no more, man..." He said.
"Hm?" Jackson knelt down on one knee so that their eyes were level. He regarded Twitch with a neutral expression for a moment before clasping his collar and forcing his head against the stone wall with enough force that rotting brick-work fell to the ground around them. Twitch let out a howl of pain, reaching for the back of his skull and finding his hands to be smeared with blood. He looked up to Jackson as if waiting for his next move. He didn't make one. "Why can't you buy from me anymore?"
"I-I heard that... oh God... if you buy from, er, y'know small-time dealers they'll come after you..."
"Who will come after you?" Jackson asked. There came no answer so he thrust the man’s head into the wall once more, raising his voice. "Who?" Around them the homeless began to stir, some muttering profanities under their breaths and attempting to fall back to sleep, others edging away from the scene or simply observing out of curiosity. Still Twitch refused to reply. Tears began to stream down his face and he sobbed into bloody hands.
"Leave him, Jackson." Sydney said in a tiring tone while she tapped the ashen end of the cigarette and approached him. He felt her tender touch on the back of his neck, a warm hand snaking down the neck of his shirt. She was kneeling beside him. He withdrew his gaze from the bloody mess in front of him and looked Sydney in the eyes. "I know what he's talking about, alright. Just leave the poor guy alone and I'll explain."
Jackson still held Twitch firmly by the collar. His knuckles were drained of blood from clenching the fabric so tightly, but caked in Twitch's own. It oozed slowly from a wound that neither Jackson nor Sydney could see and was already beginning to dry in intricate patterns on his skin. With a grunt Jackson stretched his fingers and allowed Twitch to collapse back into the wall. Another round of brickwork fell from above and settled in his hair, or stuck to the mixture of blood and tears that streaked his face. Twitch thanked and apologized to Jackson in a barely audible voice in between sniffles and a gravelly cough.
***
"The Castalias?" Jackson asked, preoccupied, his voice muffled by the cigar in his mouth. He worked furiously to try and remove some of the blood that was beginning to stain his hands, and picked at dried chunks that had settled underneath his fingernails. "I thought they were down in Serenity causing trouble. What do they want up here?"
"I don't know, I got wind of some planned expansion. I didn't think it would matter." She sucked on a freshly lit cigarettes, blowing smoke carelessly into groups of men and women who loitered on the streets. None of them seemed to care. "We've always had competition. We're only in this business to make enough money to get by-"
"Pft, speak for yourself..."
"-And as long as our regulars don't feel the need to change suppliers," she continued, "What does it matter to us?"
"That's the problem, Sydney, they do feel the need to change suppliers. You saw Twitch, he didn't want anything to do with us."
"That wasn't by choice."
Jackson mulled on her point for a moment, eventually concluding that she was correct. "So, the Castalias," he began, "They're planning on expanding to Russel City?" Sydney nodded. "Crazy. The Wings will be all over them."
"Of course they will."
"And you think it was the Castalias who tipped off the Wings about our operation?"
"I think that's the only reasonable explanation. We're on good terms with the other suppliers. They all know that if one operation is shut down the Wings crack down on the rest. If the Castalias were the ones who tipped them off about our operation, I bet they've grassed on every operation in the city. Shit, Jackson, I wouldn't be surprised if some of them are dead..."
Jackson put an arm around Sydney, pulling her closer and allowing her head to rest against his chest as they walked. The sky above them was beginning to darken ever so slightly, and the breeze was beginning to cool. It was a relief when the unbearable heat of the day gave way to a slightly less maddening warmth, but regardless it was still an uncomfortable temperature. In such a confined space the stench of unwashed bodies was also thick and pungent, and only seemed to add to the humidity of the day. Jackson swore that this resulted in a slight opaque quality to the air, but Sydney was always quick to point out that nearly everyone who could afford one held a lit cigarette in their hand.
It wasn't until they turned a corner onto a slightly wider street that they were met with quiet murmurs of unrest. Both of them could sense tension in the area, and the further they proceeded to walk the more prominent the angst amongst the men and women around them became. Some were hurriedly making their way in the opposite direction to Jackson and Sydney, while some lingered unsure of where to go. The shouting in the distance caught them both off guard. 30 years, Russel City! Instinctively the two of them glanced towards each other before taking of at a light jog, and judging by the sudden movement of the groups surrounding them they had not been the only ones to hear the shouting. Soon they found themselves amongst a steady flow of slum residents, all making their way to the source of the shouting.
"You've got to be kidding..." Sydney growled as the mass of bodies came to an abrupt stop.
Ahead of them Jackson could see the form of a man hung barbarically from a streetlight, his face slightly bloodied and his expression relaying confusion and terror. Below him stood a young woman. She was telling the assembled audience about crimes the man had committed, and despite being late to the party Jackson gleaned that he was something of a rapist. The woman’s words were harshly spoken, her whole demeanour ill-fitting of her soft features, pretty dress, and flowering hair.
"That," Sydney whispered, "is Lucania Castalia." She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the woman.
"Ah, the young lady whose family are stealing our business."
"...Fucking entitled bitch..." Was all Sydney offered in response.
An animalistic how erupted from the bound man's lungs as his eye was slashed. Despite their death chants the crowd retreated back a step to avoid the splatter of blood, and then continued to spur the young woman on. She lashed out again, this time at his torso, and more blood gushed from the wound, creating puddles of thick crimson on the uneven ground.
"I don't know, she doesn't seem so different from you when you've got a temper on." Jackson said in a half-shout over the repetitive jeering of the crowd.
"Don't give me any ideas."
It took a while before the bloodbath came to an end. Lucania was carried away by a figure who Sydney could not identify, and the crowd fell like vultures upon the near-enough corpse of the Guardian - who Jackson believed had been named Adam Worth. He was unconscious now. It was a lucky escape. From what Jackson had heard of his crimes he thought the man deserved to endure suffering right up until his death. He would liked to have seen just how the slums residents decided to enact the Wing's murder, but Sydney pulled him away from the scene before he could satisfy his curiosity. She was moving at a brisk pace. A purposeful pace.
"Come on, we'll follow them, see what rich bitches get up to once they're done with their tantrums."
Jackson agreed without argument, amused at the extreme dislike Sydney displayed towards a woman she had never met before.
***
Numerous wolf whistles fell on deaf ears as Sydney approached the bar at the Bitches Brew. Her scowls were hardly noticed by the intoxicated men whose bodies slouched limply in their chairs, let alone deterred them from admiring her slender physique as she perched on a stool and parted her lengthy brown hair. Jackson joined her, pulling up a stool and making his presence known. Angry mutters could be heard from a few men who quickly directed their perverse calls towards other patrons of the bar. Sydney then removed her jacket, catching the attention of a man to her right whose eyes landed promptly on her breasts, but following an ahem uttered by Jackson he too turned away.
"You need to stop being such a sex symbol for these people," Jackson remarked, signalling for a round of drinks
"Tell me about it. You should see what things are like when you're not around."
"Worse?"
She laughed before saying, "Of course."
"That's why I worry about you."
"You don't need to worry about me." She took a swig of the drink that had already been placed in front of her, testing it. After swirling it around in her mouth she swallowed and nodded her approval before downing the rest. "It’s good."
"I just don't want anything to happen to you. Last time... I..."
"Let me see your eyes." Sydney cut in, leaning towards him and taking his hands in her own. "It's been weeks."
She moved a hand towards the rim of his sunglasses, edging them down the bridge of his nose. Instinctively he moved a hand to stop her. He looked about the bar. No one seemed to be interested in what they were doing, and anyone who had been eyeing Sydney seemed to have lost interest. Reluctantly he allowed her to move his glasses just low enough that she could see his eyes, and a smile spread across her lips. Grey, wispy galaxies met her own comparatively dull eyes. The corneas of both eyes were grey, but not static as one would expect. They flowed and moved as if smoke were moving about behind the glazed surface, and specs of white seemed to sparkle as stars did in the night sky. But this isn't what she loved about them the most. What she loved the most was that the view of this strange galaxy inside his eyes was unobscured. There were no pupils to detract from their beauty. Only orb-shaped doors to another world.
And then he blinked and pulled the glasses back in front of his eyes.
"Why don't you focus less on me, and more on Lucania. I can see her over there."
I'll have a post up soon (It's mostly written) but I'm in the process of pulling my laptop apart because something loose keeps catching on the fan and turning the whole thing off...
Darcs, I'm not sure whether you mentioned it in your latest post, but what time of day does the.. Er... Castration take place? I wanted to have Jackson and Sydney stumble across it on their way to a bar.
Edit - ignore me, just noticed you mentioned the time of day in an OOC post
I think that sounds like a good idea.
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