Author Topic: Springfield  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball  (Read 339 times)

Offline anton

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it was after dark, once the party started. an hour past sunset, but the hospital was aglow, candles lighting every hallway and room. they weren't just placed on the floor, but instead, it was very clearly renovated; before the power had gone out, they'd been prepared, and there were scones along walls designed to hold the fire sources, secure and rather nice looking. springfield had been built in the old world, renovated for the new world, and though there were signs of age, the higher windows dirtied and pillars uncleaned, there was something remarkably pleasant and well kept about the building.

the entire town, in fact; anyone who came in would have no doubt had to walk through the town, homes still in tact, cars parked in driveways, stores carefully cleaned out. it very much looked only as though life had simply paused, and it was entirely on purpose. for anyone who'd seen the party that had come to each group with the invitation, the town might make sense. they still did their hair and dressed well, they still woke up in time for work and took sunset strolls. they held tightly onto what little humanity they could preserve, they held tightly onto a life others had long forgotten.

the party itself looked like something out of the old world. balloons were blown up, and though there was no helium, they were ornately taped high on the walls. there were centerpieces on the tables with pleasant white and black roses, tablecloths covering the metal. in the center of the room was the old water fountain, now renovated to a rather large dirt planter, with various flowers growing in it, the only splash of color in the room. off to the side were several npc's with musical training, playing a variety of instruments, doing their own renditions of old world music. within, nurses, doctors, civilians, guards, and everyone in between were dressed nicely, out of their usual scrubs and lab coats and into suits, dresses, and the things between. even the patients had been dolled up with the help of some nurses, and though some were still in wheel chairs or connected to iv poles, they were clearly having a good time.

there was a table off to the side with various treats, all black and white, but anton stood away from it, closer to the front doors- a set of sliding doors that were nearly always open, as well as a revolving door beside it that, truth be told, anton always preferred to go through. there'd been signs all throughout the town indicating the way to the hospital, and just within the doors, at what was once a coat check, were several people who's jobs were to check coats, and pat those present down for weapons, which would then be checked. the coats were for the sake of the party, but the weapon check was routine in springfield. though it was perpetually warm in springfield, even that night in the low eighties, anton knew many of them, flintlockers in particular, would have coats from their trip there.

❝i'm willing to bet this is going to turn into a real shit show.❞ fletcher mumbled from beside him, and anton glanced briefly at his niece, before returning his eyes to the doors.

❝have some faith fletch.❞ he said quietly, fingers moving to straighten his tie before remembering that oh yeah, he hadn't worn a tie. he'd worn a tuxedo coat and slacks, a white shirt, but instead of a tie or a bow, he'd opted to just leave the first few buttons undone, all at fletchers recommendation. ❝you do have your gun though, right?❞

she let out a small chuckle, nodding mildly. ❝of course.❞ she mused, patting the side of her thigh, where it was no doubt hidden. ❝all the guards do, just in case. we love you uncle anton, but you're too optimistic.❞ she mused, patting his shoulder and turning to walk away.

and almost immediately, bodies began filing through the doors. the music picked up a bit more, and just about every springfielder sat on edge. they hadn't ever invited others like this, which meant that, for the better part of seven years, they'd only interacted with one another and the occasional passer-through who needed help.

[ and the party has begun! the dress code is strictly black and white, which anton will have informed everyone in the invitation threads, everyone's being pretty thoroughly checked for weapons before being allowed in, and music is currently bopping in the background!! ]
« Last Edit: June 08, 2019, 11:17:56 PM by sango »
make the same mistake, blame circumstance

Offline SILAS.

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #1 on: April 14, 2019, 04:23:01 AM »
tw. mention of alcohol

Silas was so damn close to wearing tartan. The patterns surely would've helped him to stand out in the crowd. But then he realized - he was a God, his mere presence would have him stand out in the crowd. Not to mention, the now-brunet also was wearing his very notable Burger King crown as he entered the room. Anyone would be able to spot the dumb ass in a crowd of people, merely by the crown on his head. This bitch was ready to get paralytic from all the alcohol, sauntering in as if this were his very own party and instantly pulling out a flask of rum. He screwed the cap off, taking a rather large gulp, before putting the flask back into his blazer pocket.

Next, he adjusted his bow tie, having chosen to adorn his under-worked frame with a pure black tuxedo. He pursed his lips as eyes passed by a mirror, landing on his face before he cocked a brow at himself in the reflection. He was literally the most vain person he knew, but he was allowed to be so vain. After all, have you seen this pretty face? Finally, he turned away, instead wandering over to the center of the room, dark eyes flitting about for any sign of somebody who he could recognize. After all, Silas didn't actually know many people apart from his own people and other groups' leaders. This was the start of a fantastic evening, though. Maybe he'd get to mingle with others, really get to show off his 'quirkiness'. Quirkiness was never a positive word, but Silas would give the term a new reputation. Because of Silas, quirkiness was a terrible trait to possess; but, he'd always insist otherwise.   
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Offline fletcher

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #2 on: April 14, 2019, 05:58:55 PM »
fletcher christina maria carmichael would not be caught off guard.

getting dressed that evening, she'd sort of thought she looked fine as hell. she'd spent half the day with her hair stuck up in curlers, she'd all but traded her soul for some red lipstick, and she'd taken on several extra shifts the week before to trade up for the dress she wore, a fitted black thing with a slit up the side that hit her mid thigh. she'd made the call not to wear heels that evening; she was nearly six feet tall, and to stare down at any man that glanced at her was not the goal that evening.

fletcher hadn't been exposed to a man outside of springfield that wasn't some scruffy homeless man in nearly a decade. and, truth be told, there weren't many men her age that even turned up in the hospital, particularly not one's half dead. she was halfway through her nineteenth year of existence, but she still hadn't had so much as a kiss thus far. not a date, nothing. anton was a workaholic, sure, but at least her uncle had even gotten engaged.

so, had fletcher dressed up all fancy and shit to catch the eye of someone cute? she prayed so. because, frankly, she wasn't sure the punching bags could handle more of her frustrations. however, the first to poor through the doors proved to be a man just a couple years too old, wearing a... is that a fucking burger king crown? she didn't have any idea who the guy was, but she did, in fact, know that they had a very functional psych ward, and well, she wasn't one to judge, but it was pretty empty these days.

but she was a guard, not a nurse, so she turned away, shrugging a bare shoulder to herself as she headed to the drink table, pouring some punch in a cup and half praying someone had the sense to spike it.
to give your lack of interest an explanation

Offline NEMO.

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #3 on: April 14, 2019, 08:51:59 PM »
The first time he’d been to a dance, experienced dancing, he’d been with Angel. A bumbling kid whose face turned tomato red, his legs trembling as he led her to the dance floor, he hadn’t much of a clue of what he was doing.

At that time, he’d refused to even get into a tux, although his peers at the time tried to convince him to but that’s not what mattered— what mattered was how vividly he remember angel stood there, looking as beautiful as ever, lip gloss painted lips pulling into a nervous grin as she looked at the boy who was just as nervous as she. What he remembered was how beautiful she was. Now? There wasn’t her hand to hold, and now that he wore a tux she wasn’t there to fix it or whatever, as he’d seen demonstrated by Jordan and Evan. Just him by his lonesome, watching from the sidelines as those who were familiar with each other began to joyously greet, some even readily pulling the other to the dance floor.

Even if she wasn’t too familiar with it, too comfortable, she would have liked it. He knew it. And maybe he would have, too. It was nice to pretend as if you were a normal kid, not jailed in some fucked up situation such as this. But she wasn’t, and he is. . . and God, this sucked. A lot better than the possibility of dying, being robbed by a bunch of bandits that smelled as if they hadn’t showered the day but pretty goddamn close.

Offline eloise e.

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #4 on: April 14, 2019, 10:05:02 PM »
something sweet
and almost kind       
wonder why I didn't see it there before
  She had vanished, unintentionally, when they arrived to the party. El was short, making it easy for her to be pushed away into the sea of people at this party. Her attire was white, her dress and kitten heeled shoes that only made her a little bit taller. She was unsure why she decided to show up, why she decided to go, but she decided to. Eloise felt...pretty she supposed, but her she also felt off. She felt it wasn't true, her feeling of being sort of princess ish.

Eloise would walk over to a wall, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. Crowds weren't her thing, but there was no way around it. There would be dancing, she way be forced to dance, which she had done before but she was so scared to mingle. People were mean. Crowds made her nervous. So now she sort of stayed out of the way of others but it wouldn't take long before she was shoved into the crowd. Into the crowd and probably into someone else.
thes code

Offline mickey

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #5 on: April 14, 2019, 10:25:50 PM »

mickey had never really been into parties. he’d never claimed to be the life of the party, either. he preferred to simply sit back and observe everyone else being the life of the party, while he entertained himself at the bar. scotch in one hand, cigarette in the other. it was kind of awful that he was the medic of flintlock, while he arguably made the worst decisions for his own personal health that he could. he contemplated that for a moment as he glanced around through the crowd, peering up from his glass to see what kinds of people he was mingling himself with in that moment.

a man with a burger king crown. people dressed to the tens, looking like they wanted the eyes of at least the one in that moment. what a party. definitely looked like everyone was having fun. this could be the thing to finally lift up his mood, he thought. scoffing to himself, he took another drink of scotch. looked like scotch was the one for him tonight.

Offline LUCERNE.

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #6 on: April 15, 2019, 05:53:34 AM »
He was baffled. Blinking several times as he stood still, eyes staring blankly across the room. Lucerne never quite expected to stumble across Mickey again in his lifetime. After all, it'd been years since they'd studied together, shared the same apartment together - the only friend Lucerne had in his life back then. However, it appeared to be the norm for Lucerne to drop off the face of the earth, one day in the company of others and then next abandoning them as he made off on his next adventure. Mick was a victim of such tendency. Lucerne probably should have told him that he was leaving before abandoning the only person who seemed to understand him.

Slowly, he cocked his head to the side. He wondered how Mick was at the party. The man must've joined a group, just like Lucerne had. Interesting, but Lucerne wasn't surprised. Unlike Lucerne and his antisocial ways, Lucerne had always been under the impression that Mick had always been good with people. 'Good' by Lucerne's standards anyway. That was why Lucerne was surprised to not see people flocked around the man, yet Lucerne was somewhat grateful. This gave him a perfect opportunity to approach Mick, himself. If this was a black tie event, then Lucerne was surely not looking the part, instead adorning himself with a somewhat casual ensemble - a black dress shirt with a dark blazer and trousers was unceremonious by Lucerne's standards, not to mention the unshaved appearance and unkempt mop of hair.

Shifty eyes peered around the room, finally his gaze set on a woman NPC holding a full glass of red wine. He cocked his brow, quick to pick up an empty glass as he wandered towards the intoxicated woman, feigning a smile as he greeted her briefly. A sly swap of glasses, and off Lucerne went again, downing the glass of wine as he mentally prepared himself for the conversation. He was going to need a lot more alcohol in his system for this conversation, but luckily Mick was stood by the bar.

And so, he subtly shuffled his way over to the bar, eyes shifting over to Mick momentarily, gaze gleaming with a brief childlike enthusiasm. He leaned against the table lightly, watching as the lively party only grew in numbers as more people arrived, before he uttered to Mickey quietly, "An interesting party - different, yet so familiar. Might I say, like a face from the past?" In terms of the party itself, his words made little sense, but he hoped the lighthearted quip would make this conversation less... awkward. Finally, he turned to peer over to Mick, trying to not appear as pleased as he was to see his friend again after so long. "La vie nouvelle, I see." He pursed his lips softly. "New lives, for the both of us."

Spoiler: tags :: updated 4/15 • show
⫸ wilhelm lucerne nouvel // no known nicknames
⫸ goes by his middle name, lucerne
⫸ male // he/him
⫸ thirty three // ages real time // born fourteenth february
⫸ medic for the badlands // formerly a loner
⫸ joined BL - twenty first february

faceclaim - benedict cumberbatch
voice claim - benedict cumberbatch
⫸ speaks with a received pronunciation british accent
⫸ 6'2ft // tall and lithe // very little muscle mass
⫸ cold, china blue eyes and disheveled, dark brunet hair
⫸ physical health - 100%
    — current injuries: none as of now
⫸ mental health - 70%
    — has been showing signs of major depressive disorder

⫸ enigmatic and difficult to understand
⫸ astute and intellectual // generally very logical in his way of thinking
⫸ self-absorbed and overly prideful // massive god complex
⫸ lack of empathy and often insincere // evident sociopathic tendencies
⫸ assertive, blunt and arrogant // strong, unwavering opinions
⫸ analytical and perceptive // often good at figuring things out at breakneck speed
⫸ overly motivated and stubborn // it's often his way or the highway
⫸ chronic boredom, often acts out childishly based on this
⫸ fastidious and a known perfectionist
⫸ unpredictable and notably unhinged // makes it difficult to get on with him
⫸ a total narcissist in many ways
⫸ aloof and incredibly socially awkward // very antisocial in general
⫸ a complete drama queen // incredibly theatrical and melodramatic
⫸ breathes sarcasm // snide and often witty with his quips
⫸ silently a very sensitive and introverted soul // worries about what others think
⫸ self-conscious towards how people react towards him // this makes him withdrawn

⫸ wilhelm nouvel x annette nouvel // one older brother [deceased]
⫸ aromantic asexual // not interested in any romance
⫸ has taken a liking towards addy douglas
    — sees him as his person
    — doesn't view their relationship as romantic
    — loyalty lies with him entirely

storage // plot
⫸ physically: medium // mentally: hard
⫸ owns a pistol but finds the idea of injuring somebody very difficult
⫸ dislikes getting into physical fights as he's not very good at fighting
⫸ would much rather die than kill somebody else
⫸ will be acting out of character as he is still grieving over the loss of his brother
TW. he is an active drug addict // cocaine, heroin and opioids such as morphine
    — some interactions with him may be whilst he is under the influence of said drugs


Offline body.

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #7 on: April 15, 2019, 09:38:56 AM »
Poe doesn't like parties. Parties mean large groups of people. Large groups of people mean potential for disaster. Potential for disaster means something is bound to go wrong.

He's long since been unarmed, having devoted himself to be a healer rather than the malevolent warmonger he had grown up as, but his hands still instinctively twitch and reach for the holster that isn't there, the gun that was confiscated several years ago. Poe scans the crowd with trained eyes, searching for someone out of place, anyone that might look too shifty for his liking. It's not his job, he knows better than to go and outshine the guards, but it's sheer force of habit more than anything. He'll stay by the exit for most of the night, keep his guard up, be prepared for anything that comes his way. That's what he's good at. It's as natural as breathing.

He doesn't own any formal wear, and he didn't bother to go looking. His military-style jacket, buttoned up, looked black and white enough in the dim light, he would say. By not dressing up like everyone else, he makes himself stick out more--which is the opposite of what he wants, but it's too late now.

While scanning the room for the fifth time in the past couple of minutes, unsure what exactly he's looking for, he spots the man with the plastic crown. The sight is stupid enough to bring a sharkish grin to his face, bearing his teeth while he crosses the room, arriving just in time to watch Silas unscrew a flask and down it as if his very life depended on it. Not one to be shy, Poe steps closer, amusement clear on his face.

"Getting wasted already?" he asks. "Party's only just started." Is it that unbearable? He's a little anxious himself, but not to the point where he wants to drown himself in rum. He doesn't have much of a taste for alcohol, anyway. "Y'know, you stick out like a sore thumb. What's with the crown?"

Offline MICHAEL.

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #8 on: April 15, 2019, 02:32:53 PM »
"speech" 'thought' text
tw: mentions alcohol, blood, profanity, violence, religion

What was this man doing here? It was honestly a good question, the fact that Cat had even agreed to let him leave the Badlands for this event was monuments. His brown eyes looked around absently, he knew all of one person here, and that one person just happened to be an absolute asshole, not that Mike was one to judge, as he was also pretty terrible... probably mores than the Milkman, but that wasn't what they were here for.

This was... a party of sorts, Mike wasn't sure what he was even doing here, he had no ability to really dance with the hole in his leg from the run-in with his old army buds. But he was here, limping awkwardly along despite the hole in his leg. He wore a back suit, with a black shirt, and black shoes, there was no white in his outfit, the tie had been white, but it had somehow turned red, he didn't really want to go into the details.

He had no weapons on him, while he probably could have gotten away with it now after being shot in the leg, he knew that this was peaceful event, and so he was not bringing any weapons, well except for the small Swiss army knife that he generously placed for inspection while he was being checked for other weapons. Usually he would have had at least a dozen weapons on him, but this was a slightly different time in his life.

He looked around at the people, and limped his way over to Anton, offering a tired smile to the man.
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 MILES.

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #9 on: April 15, 2019, 03:01:16 PM »
"speech" 'thought' text
tw: mentions blood, injury, violence, profanity

Miles cleaned up nice, it was true, though he rarely had occasion to do so, especially with the whole... being shot while trying to join Flintlock. He wasn't really mad at them for shooting him, okay, that was a lie, he was a bit mad, but whatever, let bygones be bygones. He would eventually work past it, but right now he was here at this lovely party because Mick was, and he kind of wanted any excuse to be around Mick.

The brunette smiled awkwardly at the room of people, stopping to let himself be searched for weapons, and there may have been one or two. A gun tucked into the back of his belt, and a knife in his pocket, but he willingly let those go. Hopefully there wouldn't be any occasion to need those weapons, and he would always be able to bring them back to the lodge with him.

Brushing past the group of people, he made his way to Mickey, who, out of all the persons there, was probably the only one he actually felt comfortable around. This was the first excursion he'd made, and while his side still hurt a lot from the injury, it wasn't as bad anymore, and so long as he didn't overdo, he wouldn't hurt it more, at least he hoped not. It wasn't that he minded bedrest, especially since Mickey visted him more often than not, but he wanted to do shit too.

"Hey there. You clean up good doc." The man said his voice as smooth as he could make it, though his heart was beating rapidly, he hadn't really felt this way in quite some time, and it was an odd experience, but good.
Miles Henry Attaway is a thirty year old man. He is Hayley's half brother, and currently resides in Flintlock Lodge. He is a kind and thoughtful man, incredibly loyal to his family. He has a st. Bernard puppy named "Cassie" whom he dotes on and loves. Open to power played nonviolent interactions with characters.

Offline mickey

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #10 on: April 15, 2019, 10:29:44 PM »

when someone had slid over to stand beside him, leaned against the table, mickey hadn’t thought much of it. tonight was meant to be a social sort of thing. people talking to one another didn’t seem to be the worst thing in the world. it wasn’t until the other man began to talk that things started to piece together. he peered up from his drink as he sipped, evidently pausing as he looked over the other man’s face. a face from the past. lucerne?” good god, he almost hadn’t recognized him. the man he once knew, always impeccably dressed, face clean-shaven, hair well-kept-- was suddenly replaced by the man leaning against the table beside him.

for a minute, all he could do was stare over at him, a slow grin appearing on his features as his feet carried him. carried him closer to the man to briefly wrap his arms around his old friend. “god, how you’ve changed,” he laughed, stepping away after lucerne failed to hug him, back. some things never really changed, he supposed. he supposed they had both changed; mick wouldn’t have been able to recognize himself, not after he’d changed so much over the years. he’d cut his hair, changed his style entirely. and, damn, what he’d give to be as happy and go-lucky as he used to be… now was a time to feel that happiness surging back as he stared at his old friend.

“how the hell have you been? how’s con?” his gaze turned away from lucerne to search the crowd for said man. it was risky as hell to ask about what all had happened in lucerne’s life, he knew that- but to think about con having passed seemed… impossible, really. if lucerne had lasted this long, then surely his brother was out there somewhere in the world, doing things mickey could only dream of. when he didn’t see him right away, he frowned and then hummed to himself.

when his gaze locked on miles, walking over, he nodded his head in his direction. mick cleaned up nice? he couldn’t help but chuckle softly before adding, “and so do you.” flirting… really wasn’t his best side. he’d only been publicly gay for less than a month, now; somebody had to give him a break. it took some getting used to. his gaze lingered a bit longer than it probably should have before he turned his gaze away, reaching for another clean glass and asking, “want something to drink?”

Offline Sheogorath

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #11 on: April 16, 2019, 09:57:15 AM »
thes code
He was dressed in a pleasant two piece suit, a white undershirt, a black cover, dark pants, a charming little tie, shining black shoes, and a freshly trimmed beard. His amber gaze glimmered and glowed fiercely, dancing like firelight, an uneven gait that was quiet and regal. Oddly enough, Sheogorath's stomach seemed to be extended quite a bit. There was a reason for that, of course. He had brought weapons with him, the sword at his hip, a gun at his right side, the cane in his grip. But there was one more, a weapon he had tried his best to hide in a blown up balloon. It was a pocket knife, closed up, of course, so the balloon wouldn't pop. Catalyst had said to bring weapons for the journey, and you never knew, maybe there would be party crashers at this little Springfield ball. He wanted to be protected, even if he had no intentions of causing trouble for himself.

Sheogorath walked right up to the door, only to be stopped by those checking for weapons. They glanced at his sword, and then back up at him, and he offered a small, charming little grin before untying the scabbard and handing it over. Next was his gun, and though he needed his cane for balance, the dried blood stains that littered the wood was enough for that to be snatched from him as well. Fair enough. Then the other person's eyes landed upon his extended stomach, the blown up balloon hidden beneath his suit. The eccentric red head's smile broadened as the man reached for the bottom of the shirt, as if to reach inside and snatch whatever they thought was within away. Sheogorath took a quick step backwards.

"Hey, don't touch me belly, I'm pregnant!" Sheogorath protested jokingly. Oh well, he knew he was caught. It had, really, just been a bit of an amused little prank anyways. The man at the door approached him once more and snatched the balloon out from beneath the red head's shirt. "MAH BABY!" Sheogorath shouted, though his words ended with a cheery chuckle. "Okay okay, be careful though, that's me favorite blade. Don't lose it! I'll need it back when I leave. Long trip home, ya know!" He expected all his weapons to be returned, unless someone was looking to get punched, which, well, might end in even more violence, but hey? What could he say? He was a volatile man! Finally, he was allowed deeper into the party, where his hips swayed gently with the music. There were stares, of course, everyone had likely seen his little show. Oh well. He quite liked the attention.
but the tigers come at night

Offline 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐭

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #12 on: April 17, 2019, 12:09:04 AM »
To their own surprise, they had actually followed the dress code. Sure, wearing nothing but black and white was easy, they did that almost every day. It was the whole fancy thing that they didn't quite do. They'd been tempted to wear the same thing they had worn to Hayley's wedding - a suit with "I OBJECT" painted on the back - and they actually ended up doing just that. Except the jacket was swapped out for the backup one Molly had made them bring to the event. To make themself feel better about the whole thing, they'd left the top few inches of their shirt unbuttoned, letting people get a glimpse of the new brand on their chest. The flesh there was still tender, so not having their shirt there brushing up against it was nice.

It had taken a good couple minutes for the NPC to remove all of their weapons. "What? I'm an injured person traveling outside my domain while at war. I'm not gonna go unprotected." They let the disarming take place, but they couldn't help but feel a bit naked and vulnerable as they stepped into the party. Not something they liked.

They shot an irritated glance at Sheogorath; after his display at the entrance, they were already regretting this. "Remind me to leave you home next time." They grumbled, then headed towards the drinks table in hopes of finding something non-alcoholic. Shouldn't doctors object to this shit, anyway? It wasn't healthy, and it made for drunken idiots.

Spoiler: IF YOU DONT KNOW NOW YOU KNOW && INFO && 04/15/19 • show
GENERAL   welcome to the end of eras, ice has melted back to life
⇥ Given name is Scott Mathew Darrow ⇥ Goes only by Catalyst or Cat
⇥ Assigned male at birth ⇥ Agender ⇥ They/Them pronouns only
Twenty-one ⇥ Born 11/27/17 ⇥ Sagittarius ⇥ Real time aging
Boss (leader) of the Badlands ⇥ Ex prisoner of the Badlands
⇥ Ex cultist (Mourningstar) ⇥ Ex member of the Young Rogues

RECENT EVENTS   done my time and served my sentence
⇥ 04/16/39 ⇥ Was saved by Sheogorath
⇥ 04/15/39 ⇥ Took the Badlands brand
⇥ 04/08/39 ⇥ Had a huge fight with Molly
⇥ 04/06/39 ⇥ Returned to the Badlands badly injured
⇥ 04/03/39 ⇥ Temporarily left with Creed to try to find her brother

APPEARANCE   dress me up and watch me die
⇥ Catalyst is 6'2" tall; they possess a lean and muscular body, one that has a variety of old scars adorning it. One of the easiest to notice is one that stretches down their right cheek. While not a scar, one very notable marking on their chest is the "BL" brand. They have two piercings, one in their tongue and the other in the cartilage of their left ear. They typically dress in dark colors (favoring jackets with some sort of writing on the back), and their hair is black. They're not all dark, however, as they have pale blue eyes that peer out from beneath medium-sized eyebrows.

PERSONALITY   if it feels good, tastes good, it must be mine
⇥ Catalyst is ambitious, with the cunning and ruthlessness to reach their goals by any means necessary. They can be brutal when they feel it is needed, however when it's not they won't bother. They tend to be rather aloof and apathetic to most things and people, with some very rare exceptions. Provided those around them don't cross a few specific lines, they're content to leave them be, though they've been known to take an interest in some people, which seldom has a positive end for whoever their interest is in. They can be manipulative, and will often encourage people to make bad decisions. Those that stick by them will be rewarded, but those that do not will be cast out, as they've been outcast for their entire life and have learned to appreciate loyalty wherever they can find it. Even during the most stressful of situations, they usually keep a firm grip on their temper and keep their calm, though when they do snap and lose their temper, it is uncontrollable. They're remarkably observant, often able to deign much from subtle clues in what people say, how they say it and how they act.

RELATIONS   dynasty decapitated, you just might see a ghost tonight
⇥ Molly Darrow x Austin Darrow ⇥ No siblings
⇥ Adopted parent of Molly Valentina Darrow-Lupei (Mo)
Pansexual/Panromantic ⇥ Very much taken ⇥ One Crush
⇥ Not looking but it happened ⇥ Rarely forms romantic attachment
⇥ Holds most people at arms length and doesn't get close

INTERACTION   i'm taking back the c r o w n
Hard physicallyHard mentally ⇥ Doesn't let their guard down
⇥ Is most comfortable with close ranged-weapons ⇥ Dislikes guns
Brass knuckles ⇥ A variety of knives ⇥ Carries a handgun
⇥ Will kill/capture/maim in certain circumstances
⇥ Will leave things be in others ⇥ Will start & finish fights
⇥ No kill/capture/maim without permission
⇥ Peaceful powerplay allowed but they may react negatively
⇥ Dislikes almost any sort of touch unless they initiate or agree to it
I've been defeated I begged for what I needed
I suffered now I'm ready for war

Offline EVAN ERIK —

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #13 on: April 18, 2019, 11:44:54 AM »
Evan was.. impossibly out of place. He'd already started to pick nervously at the skin around his fingernails as he realized the sea of people that surrounded him. Before the blackout, Evan remembered parties that his parents had put on, elegant cocktail parties where Evan was expected to stay upstairs and watch his sister. The two of them would end up peering curiously from the banister, trying desperately to understand why the adults were keeping them away. As he'd gotten older, the parties had become less appealing, and more aggravating. They interrupted his quiet time, any compositions or homework he'd been trying to work on became pointless. The sound sank into his skull, and now that he was in the crowd, Evan felt like he was suffocating.

Why was he here? He didn't belong here. Evan's social skills were non-existent, and Jordan had the people talent. Right now, Evan didn't have her to hid behind. And even though he was sure nobody cared or noticed him, Evan wanted out. Trying to straighten the bow tie he'd put on (who had black and white things in the apocalypse? Seriously, it was a wonder he found anything of his that was white), Evan started towards the edge of the room, trying to control his breathing.

He found himself by the drinks, hands in his jacket as he tried to find something that wasn't water, but wouldn't make him even more of an embarrassment than he usually was. Narrowing his eyes, Evan looked around, stopping as he glanced at a person with a.. oh ouch.. what was that? A brand? Who did that?

"Hey, are you o-" Stopping himself as he realized it was probably personal to ask about the person's fresh wound, Evan grabbed a cup, trying to ignore their eyes.
i'm a freak, i'm a fraud — tags

Offline anton

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Re:  standing there, killing time \\ open, black & white ball
« Reply #14 on: April 18, 2019, 09:24:29 PM »
people filed in by the dozens, and anton stood awkwardly off to the side, hands shoved into his pockets, fending off the urge to close the top three buttons, feeling uncomfortable and exposed. one man started to shout that he was pregnant, and he immediately frowned, recognizing the badlander. he wasn't afraid of him, nor judgemental, so much as concerned. his immediate instinct wasn't that this man was creative and playful, but that he was severely mentally ill. but, from what anton had heard about badlanders, he didn't think offering therapy to the man would be appreciated, so he opted to stay quiet instead.

he made his way over to the snack table, moving past the alcohol to the punch. ladling a bit into a cup, he brought it to his nose for a sniff, finding it lacking alcohol. relieved no guards had spiked it yet, he sipped at it contentedly. it wasn't that he didn't appreciate alcohol; he definitely did. after a long day of cutting people open and delivering the news that someone hadn't made it to their family, a glass of something strong got his mind off of it. he always told his patients to abstain from drinking, particularly in a day and age without things like liver transplants and dialysis, but he was a hypocrite of the highest degree and he knew it. he told them smoking was bad just the same, but every now and then he'd hide in his car and smoke a cigarette.

eyes shifting to catalyst, he opened his mouth to greet them, recalling their conversation not long before, but instead his eyes found the wound, and, like any surgeons would, his eyes widened before quickly squinting in disapproval.

❝is that a brand?❞ he said, brows furrowing before glancing up at the badlander. ❝good god, if that— if that gets infected, the skin and the tissue surrounding it could very likely need removal. that's assuming you catch it before the infection goes septic and kills you. we don't have antibiotics anymore, and especially leaving it uncovered, it's just being exposed to billions of different strains of bacteria.❞ setting his cup on the table, he immediately began stuffing his hands into his pockets on a determined search. ❝you've got to let me put some antibiotic ointment and a bandage over it, before it gets exposed to something you can't treat.❞ he spoke as he searched, entirely sure he had supplied stashed somewhere on his person.
make the same mistake, blame circumstance