|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Apr 19, 2016 21:09:11 GMT -8
//Pale-Wolf//
"A man that has a son in the Depths." He explained simply, his hands coming together on the table as he reclined in his seat and attempted to find some fixuation for his attention, ultimately to no avail; his composure pulled back again, and he continued to massage his scalp. "How much was your arm?" He asked, haphazardly, itching an apparant incessant itch in his pale mop of hair.
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on Apr 19, 2016 21:54:29 GMT -8
"It cost me my left hand." Lenoir smiled, again without teeth, waggling the robotic fingers emphatically to demonstrate their lively potential. Quite pleased with herself, she continued, "Why do you ask? Are you looking to buy?"
She scratched at her chin with the metal, and her expression came back to rest at neutral, as if the strenuous act of smiling tired her out. "Ah... no, you'll no doubt learn who I am later. I am interested, Pale-Wolf: did your Depth-Father name you that?"
|
|
|
Post by rumsztyk on Apr 20, 2016 4:59:11 GMT -8
("Repost" for Blood, not word for word)
Donata approached Spitze with Bzyczek humming above her head.
"E-excuse me, sir, do y-you know anything about the a-accom-modation for volunteers?"
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Apr 20, 2016 5:47:01 GMT -8
//Pale-Wolf//
He nodded, thoughtfully, as he closed his eyes and caressed his eyelids; sighing in finality before shaking his head. He opened the eyes and eyed the woman's false arm, "Maybe. The magazines had it as my name." He explained simply, looking down at his hands, he idly wringed them together before reclining in his chair, hands going to his weapons again.
//Spitze//
"Ahhhh, yes mein herr, yes indeed." He chuckled jubilantly as he turned around, a small bowl of ramen in his palm; a keycard on a yellow lanyard swayed from the spike, he set the card down beside the ramen, Spitze shooting a yellow-toothed grin at Donata as he set his flesh hand proudly on his hip. "Yellow's on t'east side a'the rocket..." He pointed his spike in the general direction, before setting it down on the counter, "Its pretty scheisse'ed, but... you know, its sturdy, and its locked." He winked at her, "Which, is just as good as any gat. Unfortunately, you will have to find somewhere else for y'cleanings... Plumbing doesn't really run through here." He huffed, quirking his thickly haired mouth as he shrugged, "Its all old school, so you don't have to worry about being tracked; also makes finding the room a bit difficult... should have number on there?" He tapped the card...
|
|
|
Post by relentless on Apr 20, 2016 7:37:37 GMT -8
Cameron was halfway through finishing his noodles, jumping slightly from the speakers and gunshots, but ignored them nevertheless.
|
|
|
Post by rumsztyk on Apr 20, 2016 8:48:25 GMT -8
Sturdy and locked - her face brightened at the words.
"Great! Thanks!" she said, quickly grabbing the keycard. She was eager to hide in her new room, but her stomach reminded her of hunger. AR eyes reminded her the last meal was 7h38min ago.
"Bzyczek, find the room." she ordered in a much more firm voice, holding up the keykard for her bot to scan it, pointing to the east side with her other hand. When the bot flew away, she sat in a remote corner, eating a bowl of ramen, waiting for her electronic pet.
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on Apr 20, 2016 10:08:18 GMT -8
Lenoir stared at him incredulously, brows pushed together in frustration. The flesh-hand tapped incessantly at the untouched bowl.
"You do not know your own name?" She huffed, breaking her posture a moment to slump; to convey her sheer exasperation to the closed book. "And the magazines-- What are you? Some sort of big-shot, celebrity man?"
A smirk broke her glower, and she straightened up as another genius inquisition came to mind. "Ah... I see: Pale-Wolf is your stage-name name, yes?"
|
|
|
Post by Blood@school on Apr 20, 2016 11:32:23 GMT -8
//Pale-Wolf//
He smiled at the words, a small beam of pride glowing like amber behind his eyes. "Mmm... yes, stage-name." He conceded with a humble nod, "They liked it, so it stuck... I like t'name too..." he murmured wistfully. Pale seemed lost in thought before he clicked back into reality with a blink of his eyes. "What of your name'en? Where's it from?
|
|
|
Post by azmoham on Apr 20, 2016 13:53:28 GMT -8
Clark nursed his beverage, his thoughts drifting to the message the loudspeaker had just relayed. Truly in danger now, huh? I almost just crushed a woman's head like a walnut over a bowl of crappy noodles, if that isn't danger then I don't know what is. Even through his facade of nonchalance, a hard pit grew in his stomach, and he was put off his drink. It had been years since he had faced off against anything from the dungeons, but last he had, it had cost him dearly.
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on Apr 20, 2016 14:05:27 GMT -8
The turn in conversation did not go unnoticed, but it wasn't unpleasant, or even unsurprising. It may even prove useful.
"Fah. Have I not told you? It's old, and French. They call where I'm from 'The door to the South of France.'" She explained, chin raised, and gave the robotic hand a singular, grand twirl, as if to encompass the entirety of her home country. She hardly waited for him to input an answer before she continued:
"I will tell you exactly where if you go and get us two clean forks." She promised, voice hushed, holding up the respective amount of digits on her steel hand.
|
|
|
Post by porkylabrador on Apr 20, 2016 14:24:13 GMT -8
Bee-Bee came sprinting back into the canteen area of the Red Rocket looking like a a child who had awoken to a thousand and one presents on Christmas morning. In truth she was ill-tempered and a touch manic, not stupid... she felt the gnaw of fear like any other, the pink headed punk had simply devised systems for drowning it out, some degree of psychosis certainly helped.
She spun around and giggled delightedly, her neon hair dancing under the pulsing of lights. Her laughter revelled in the chorus of carnage that echoed distantly. "Last call fraggers! All Aboard the Blam-Blam Train to Shitsville! CHOOOOO CHOOOOOOOOO!"
The girl pointed to the noodle-server with a wide wolfish grin on her face. "GOOD VIBES! JAJAJAJAJA!" She seemed... content.
|
|
|
Post by misterhix on Apr 20, 2016 14:45:22 GMT -8
Max: He spared a glance at the brightly haired girl and looked back to Lorelai. "A lively crowd wouldn't you say?"
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Apr 20, 2016 14:52:48 GMT -8
//Pale-Wolf//
He nodded; then snapped to see the firey girl blitzing through the ballroom, so to speak. He did't bother to acknowledge Lenoir,as he watched the expressive girl with a mixture of wonder and envy, his head quirked as his eyes traced the spirals she made...
//Spitze//
The red haired barrel of a man turned with a risen brow with a hearty chuckle, the girl was worrying; her nature was... dangerous, explosive. Maybe even literally. He eyed the hand shotgun beneath the counter, before nodding, smiling and bowing his head; "Ja."
|
|
|
Post by black379 on Apr 20, 2016 15:12:57 GMT -8
"If there's someone who doesn't get even a little excited about being driven deep underground - probably never see the sky again - to battle with horrific stuff like no one could imagine, then..." Lorelei seemed to not actually have a conclusion to that sentence. She just watched the other characters dance (literally) about the bar, considering that each of them had some reason for being here. It was easy above ground, in the overpopulated streets, to disregard that the people around her were actually other humans with their own lives and purpose. "Well, I don't know how anyone wouldn't be anxious." The girl finished, her eyes meeting with Max's.
|
|
|
Post by misterhix on Apr 20, 2016 15:18:24 GMT -8
Max: Kuja became distracted with the new girl. "I cannot argue with that logic. Perhaps we have already lost our minds to undertake such a mission. It would be safer to live on the surface in a fortress City than down here." Nodding at her he added. "Are you a scientist?"
|
|