Author Topic: The Beach RIBBONS [open]  (Read 176 times)

Offline molly

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RIBBONS [open]
« on: January 30, 2019, 11:04:08 PM »
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molly darrow

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female

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the badlands
Scott - or Catalyst, as they were calling themself now - had helped her with her injuries at first, wrapping up her arm and helping her with anything she couldn't do herself or otherwise struggled with. It was reassuring to see some kindness in their eyes after being greeted by ones filled with such anger and hate. Not directed at her, but violent enough that it scared her anyway.

But now Catalyst was away, going on a diplomatic mission to a place called Flintlock. They'd taken Gabriel with them, and left Mike in charge of things. They'd also left her to take care of herself. Molly was a capable woman, she could fend for herself most of the time. She'd managed to get this far, hadn't she? But even the most competent person would struggle with correctly wrapping a broken arm with just one hand, which is exactly what she was doing now, the crashing of waves against sand almost drowned out for a moment by the frustrated grunt that exited her lips.

Re: RIBBONS [open]
« Reply #1 on: January 31, 2019, 05:36:07 AM »

There really wasn't any particular reason for Mord wandering along the beach. He wasn't much of a fan of the area, to be honest; the humid, salty seaweed air made him nauseous, and he already been more than acquainted with the sandy shore on the day he showed up. Nonetheless, the doctor found himself there anyway, as almost a last resort. He'd already toured and memorized his way around the city within the first week, and currently, there wasn't anything too exciting he could weasel himself into. in fact, Since mike was put in charge, he'd been doing his best to keep interactions to a minimum. While he didn't necessarily hate the man, exactly, he could only handle being in the same area as him for so long, before getting extremely irritated by his presence alone. It wasn't his fault- or maybe it was, mord didn't care. No matter the day, the soldier always seemed to find a way to put him on edge.

So, here he was, wandering along the stretch of coast, hands in the pockets of his jacket, with the collar turned up against the gritty breeze. He half-hoped that no one had the same idea in location, but as a disgruntled humanly sound reached his ears over the constant rumble of water, he realized he wouldn't be so lucky. Spotting the woman attending to her visibly injured arm was a somewhat intriguing. He recognized her from the meeting, but knew nothing about her besides what had been revealed at the time. The mother of their oh-so fearless leader. It seemed that Cat hadn't inherited their supposedly grand fighting skills from her, judging by the state she was in. However, mord knew better than to assume all was as it seemed, especially when people like Cat were involved.

As much as the important mystery woman intrigued him, he couldn't resist feeling a bit bothered by the wrapping job she attempted on herself. He could say it wasn't his officially his business, but, really, the two letters he had worked his ass off to earn gave him an allowance to make it his business. While he was tempted to just continue walking and leave her alone to sulk while her child was away, the obvious mistake was like a crooked painting to him, and that stubborn part of his mind wouldn't let it pass. Besides, he would only be coming off as a helping hand, and it would give him a chance to at least become properly acquainted. Then he could continue on his merry way and ignore everyone.

retracting his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms as he approached, he greeted molly with a casual, fleeting half-smile, before turning his gaze to the ocean. "not the gift wrapper of the family, eh?" as much as he disliked the suffocating atmosphere, he didn't mind the blank, endless view of the horizon. although the breeze in his face, ruffling his hair oddly reminded him that he could use a shave sometime, before he ended up looking entirely like a mangey weasel. "looks like you could use a hand."


« Last Edit: January 31, 2019, 05:45:41 AM by 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑪𝑨𝑰 »
The things other people have put into my head do not fit together nicely.

Offline MICHAEL.

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Re: RIBBONS [open]
« Reply #2 on: February 05, 2019, 10:09:11 PM »
"speech" 'thought' text
tw: mentions alcohol, blood, profanity, themes of violence

Why Cat had seen clear to put Mike in charge while they were in Flintlock was honestly a very good question. Sure, Mike hadn't been up for the journey, and he wasn't the diplomatic type, so the choice to bring Gabe made sense. And since Mike was the only other titled, positioned whatever member, it fell on his shoulders to watch the Badlands and make sure it didn't all go to hell. How the fuck was he supposed to do that? It was like watching demon babies, or pyromaniac little monsters with an affinity for murder. With no Cat, could he really keep the Badlands from burning down, imploding, or being taken over by a gaggle teenage girls?

Michael shuddered at the thought, he wasn't afraid of girls, or women in general. But perhaps he was a bit wary of them, the ones that were in the Badlands were formidable, though, with no (or very little) self modesty, Michael was sure he could at least hold his own with any of them (though Lake was annoyingly tall) height wasn't everything. He had years of experience on his side, and patience.

From what he saw in the younger generation, there was little patience or experience (sure they'd been killing since they were kids... but he was more than twice their age, hell he was more than twice the age of most of the people in Badlands, well except for Mordecai and Molly. On one hand it was nice not being the old foggy anymore (though he still was a bit of an old fuddy duddy). But also, it was odd, he'd almost forgotten how to interact with people his own age.

Mord, well, he didn't particularly like the man all that much. There was a familiarity to someone in his past that he just could not place to the newcomer. But Molly, well she was a lovely soul, and Michael tried his best to make sure she was happy, not because she was Cat's mother, but because she essentially radiated goodness and even a lost cause such as himself couldn't deny her good qualities.

Well, he could, but he didn't. He stopped a few steps from Molly, uncertain if he even should be here... he didn't want to deal with Mord and his unplaceable face... and intriguing voice. He shook his head, best not think about it. He flashed a cheerful smile in Molly's direction, noticing her lack of wrapping skill, then again, he wasn't all that great at wrapping anything either, unless it was packing for a 20 mile hike up a mountain in the rain, then he could wrap shit up tight just fine.

"Hello miss Molly." He offered her a cordial greeting, the grin he gave not wholey fake. He turned his gaze towards Mordecai, eyes squinting slightly, "Doctor Stabby." He greeted the other skeptically. It was his job to make sure the Badlands did not burn down, so, he wasn't about to start a fight with Mord, but he couldn't help jab at him a little with words until something stuck.
MICHAEL FORD
Michael Ford is a 45 year old, man, he's stubbornly loyal to whatever cause he chooses, protective of his family and friends, he's a grunt in the Badlands. Michael has issues controlling his anger in most situations. He is a difficult opponent and well trained, feel free to power play nonviolent interactions though.

Offline molly

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Re: RIBBONS [open]
« Reply #3 on: February 07, 2019, 05:11:20 PM »
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molly darrow

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female

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the badlands
It could certainly be difficult for outsiders to see how one such as Catalyst could come from one such as Molly; there were small things, though, some more noticeable than others. They shared the same dark hair, but their eyes were that of their father's. You could see it in their smiles, though, Cat's was like a corrupted version of hers, as were several of their other facial expressions.

And though she looked it, Molly wasn't completely defenseless. Well, the broken arm was an issue, and hindered her greatly. Still, she wasn't some delicate flower that fell victim to anyone else that came along, she much like anyone else that had survived the apocalypse, and doing that without getting a little messy was pretty much impossible. Granted, they wouldn't have learned anything about fighting from her, and whatever skill they possessed would have had to come from somewhere else.

A man walked up to her, one of the few people here that was her age. Mordecai, she was pretty sure. "I was, but it's kind of hard to wrap your own arm with one hand." Back in the days when she had a reason to wrap presents, she'd been quite good at it, decorating them in such a way people didn't want to open them. She sighed. "I could." She sounded totally resigned to it as she held out her arm, bandages hanging off of it limply. She looked over at Michael as he arrived, offering a weak smile. "Hello, Michael. Doctor Stabby?" She glanced over at Mord questioning, wondering what the origin of the nickname was.

//this is terrible I've been typing slowly for more than an hour and I wanna go make cookies already