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Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2017 18:45:10 GMT -5
dia is a fool
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Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2017 19:01:43 GMT -5
hi bland im dad (^:
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Jun 5, 2017 19:11:07 GMT -5
I'm NOT A FOOL
And pft, I'm extra. Bland is gud. Bland is okay xD
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Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2017 19:11:38 GMT -5
whoa there my child
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Post by ѕρσттεdѕнιммεя on Jun 5, 2017 19:29:38 GMT -5
[ 'ello there ]
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Jun 5, 2017 20:15:01 GMT -5
Alphonse Fournier "Don't allow the fear to control you. It is a weapon. Use it." - ♠ - The metal walls around him felt cold rather than homely. There was always something peculiar about how painful loss was, the sensation more than just bitter and hollow, but violent in nature. It had been his fault, in a sense, as well. He had allowed them to get too comfortable. He had always known that a day like today would come and that it was inevitable. After six months without a single casualty, it still stung. No matter how talented his subordinates were, they were just human, made of flesh and blood and oh so vulnerable to the claws of death.
And here he was filling out paper work. The reports regarding the mission and the case causalities - such a cold and professional word, in his opinion - laid to his left, completed and ready to be filed once he was finished looking over the new case profiles. There were many new options for the rookies their team would be forced to take on.
Had there been an easy way to sort through case profiles and determine an individual based on words alone, this would have been a simple task. It was, however, far from simple. He had been given a pool of five candidates to choose from. They all had their own stories, their own horrors, and their very own monsters. They were new to this world - the world of hunters - and far too blue for an experienced team like Team Alpha.
His team took on the most dangerous cases. They were both a strike team and a response unit. They and Team Beta and Delta were the last line of defense when missions went terribly wrong. So to just choose two new members from a pool of five felt like Russian Roulette. Sighing, he placed aside two of the case files that interested him the most. Those two seemed like they had high prospects.
Leaning over his desk, alone in the solitude of his study in his team's own corridor, he cracked open his bottle of hard whiskey. Very few knew him as the kind of man who drank whiskey, but when he needed hard liquor it was a surefire choice. Pouring out two fingers of whiskey, he downed the drink in one swift motion, relishing briefly in the warmth of the alcohol.
Running a hand through his hair, he finally allowed himself a chance to truly think about what had happened. What had gone wrong. Darius Wilson was a man he had worked with for years. Darius was two years his junior in The Order, well respected and easy to like. It was hard to simply accept that the quiet camaraderie that Darius had offered him in all his years here and his subsequent years as a Supervisor was over.
Had he been there a moment sooner, he supposed he could have made a difference.
Then there had been Jason Rodriguez. Jason was one of the best metal smiths The Order had seen in years. He was a skilled weapons engineer before The Order had picked him up. From what Alphonse could recall, the man was far more popular than even he was. Jason crafted many of the younger veterans' weapons. He was the most sought for member of Team Alpha, both by hunters hoping for weapon repairs and hunters hoping for an entirely new weapon.
It would be strange to see the crafts bench empty. It had always been occupied in all his years as the supervisor of Team Alpha. He was just glad they had been lucky and that they had cut their losses at two. It broke his heart to imagine many of the others passing in a similar manner - their last moments spent in agony and their bodies completely mutilated.
Running a hand down his face, he leaned back in his chair. He remembered cases in which only one or two members of a team survived. He knew how hard those cases were. He recalled the terrible creatures let loose on the base when those tragedies happened, a monster that could have only been made by a hunter - powerful, vengeful, and hurting.
He still remembered with vivid details the bodies of those hunters, bloody. Their weapons were never drawn. Of course they weren't. They had wanted to die. The only blessing was that those monsters were easy enough to eliminate, the source of their weakness already previously identified.
It was just a blessing his team had each other still, though he worried for them. He knew it was hard to accept the loss of good men. That, they too, were grieving. Sighing, he stood up and gathered the files up and headed for the door. Cracking open the door he glanced out into the primary living space of their team. It was empty, unusual for his team.
They generally gathered out here, partaking in various activities from watching bad movies to playing childish board games. There was nothing now. Of course it felt empty now, blanketed in a a terrible silence. He didn't say a word as he headed out of Alpha wing. Outside of their corridors, The Order was bustling with activity.
It was terrible, the way life continued. It was the natural order of things, but it was terrible nonetheless. It had always stung the way that the world continued to revolve around them, as if their lives were so insignificant and meaningless their deaths held no impact. None at all. The corner of his mouth twitched downwards slightly at the thought.
The walk to the Council, thankfully, was short. Though there were a handful of individuals who had stopped him in his path to say their condolences and sympathize for his team, he had managed to bypass most conversation. Alphonse was uncertain of his choice in candidates and how his team would view the new comers, but he was certain of one thing. He did not want to talk about the loss with those who didn't know Jason and Darius the way his team had.
Now in the hallway outside of the Council's quarters, he found himself staring at the door almost blankly. Sighing, he raised his hand to knock gently before straightening his back and composing himself for the discussion to come.
The response was quiet, almost inaudible. "Come in."
Taking the handle into his hand, he twisted the knob in a practiced motion before stepping into the well lit space that the Council claimed as their own meeting room. There were various papers strewn about on the large oval table the eight council members were gathered around.
He was no stranger to the council room and much less to the council members. The supervisors met often with them, accepting new assignments and new members as well as discussing serious cases and the like. Regardless of all their interactions, however, the room never did feel welcoming even with the warm oak wood flooring and earthly browns.
His smile was forced. "Good evening," he spoke softly even as he nodded in greeting to the others. It was Sava Eduardovych Ilchuk who spoke first.
An old man of ferocious demeanor, Sava was a man who could silence a room full of arguing supervisors with ease. "It's a good to see you, unscathed, Alphonse," he sounded sincere but the words hurt. He was unscathed and two of his men were dead. "I assume those are the reports and the files you've chosen?"
"Yes, Sir, it is," he said, passing the papers to the closest council member, Hong Ye-Eun. She accepted them graciously, choosing to place aside the case reports to look at the individuals he had chosen for the team instead. Of course that was more important. "But I must inquire about the rookies, it's rather uncharacteristic of Team Alpha to take on new comers."
"I understand that you're unsatisfied with the procedures, Alphonse," it was Luo Jing who spoke now, one of his former mentors. It was gentle, as if she knew he was displeased. As if she could see through his pretentious composure, though few ever were capable of doing such a feat. "But as of late, there's been more cases. Our teams are spread thin, we're losing many good men and women. It would be unwise for the council to open applications for the strike teams again. It could unbalance existing teams drastically."
He bit back a scathing response, instead keeping his tone even and polite. "They are unfit for the duties of a strike team. I am certain they are individuals of outstanding character, but they are far too inexperienced for our team."
It was Sava who tried to reel him in with a pointed cough. "I know that and as a result I am afraid to say that until things clear up, your team will be training these rookies as per standard procedure." Had he been a lesser man he would have balked, jaw hanging open and outraged at the sheer stupidity of the situation.
"Standard procedure," he repeated blandly.
"Yes, as per usual," Hong began as if he was asking a question rather than making a statement of disbelief. "We assign missions of lower priority to your team until you are certain your team can handle something of more difficulty."
First they acted as if the losses of Jason and Darius was just an unfortunate event and now they humiliated his team. He was not just angry, he was furious. "So," his words were clipped, "It's unwise to unbalance existing teams but perfectly sensible to reduce the number of available strike teams from three to two?"
Sava had opened his mouth to response to the scalding words when Luo Jing intercepted, eyeing him in a way only his mentor was capable of. "You're upset, Alphonse, but your team has taken a heavy blow. You need time to heal. Your team needs time to heal. The council has already decided."
"We will send the two new rookies to the Alpha wing in a bit, you are dismissed Supervisor Fournier," Eline Schou chimed in. The way her tone lifted at the words 'dismissed' told him she was secretly pleased with getting him out of their hair.
"Of course," he scowled, no longer attempting to hide his dismay. He didn't bother to spare the council members any more words. Their decision was final. They were under some misguided conception he and his team were far too damaged to heal properly from the events that had occurred.
Alphonse Fournier did not sulk, but the walk back to Alpha wing was spent with an air of anger, disbelief, and sorrow hanging about him. Nobody bothered him on his walk back and as he typed in the pass code to their corridors, he felt a heavy weight sitting on his chest. As the door cracked open, he stood outside briefly looking in.
He missed the homely air. He missed the way Jason's full belly laughter echoed around their team's quarters. He missed the bad music Darius played. Deflating slightly, he closed the door behind him and sat down on the couch. He supposed he might as well wait here to respond to the door when the rookies came knocking. They were, after all, his team's responsibility now.
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Post by ѕρσттεdѕнιммεя on Jun 5, 2017 20:30:01 GMT -5
[ i apologize if i'm a little poofy. my character is british, but i'm american. so trying to figure out her school career is.... heck..... i don't understand that school system at all nor do i understand how the graduate or anything- ]
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Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2017 20:34:13 GMT -5
uh if you want i can tell you once im done writing my post? im from the uk. lol
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Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2017 20:42:10 GMT -5
Gale Amari "You might make everyone happy but you're dead inside just like me." | ◙ |
Sometimes he wondered if this was a mistake.
Back in Team Omicron, they had been nothing more than glorified babysitters. They had a constant flow of rookies, not to replace their own veterans but simply to train for higher Teams. Maybe, if they were lucky, their rookies would have the courage to submit an application to Alpha, or one of the other strike teams. God. Those had been boring, painless times. The times where Gale Amari's nightmares had been nothing to fear, had always been easy enough to tame and overcome and then shoot, even with his basic rifle. For the longest time, he had been unable to snipe. It hadn't been a huge bother considering he had always been great with most guns, but hell if he hadn't been bored.
The only upside was that nobody died.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
His scope's button was going to break, but he couldn't help it. Click. It went up. Click. It went down. His chest hurt. He didn't want to be here. God, he must've looked like one helluva wreck; sitting, cross-legged in the living area, back against the wall, gaze turned downwards. A book in Arabic sat to his left, opened to a page that had a picture of some sort of monster, it was hard to tell. He continued to flick the switch, only stopped when he noticed the crrch. Great. He'd broken it. He inhaled slowly and looked up, mouth opening.
Gale's words died on his tongue. Jason. God. God, he wanted him back. Looking at his rifle, he could remember the day it had been given to him; it had taken a long while to adjust, had taken just as long to get used to the people around him. He remembered being a rookie for Team Alpha, clear as day; he hadn't needed any training considering he'd transferred, but it had been scarier and yet somehow it had been home. The people had been his family, and Jason had made the gun that he held so dear to his heart. He curled his fingers lightly over it, brushed his finger over the black and silver. As beautiful and as unique as the weapon was, Gale's terrible habit of flicking the button to bring the scope up and then to put it back down meant that it break often. Breaking it meant that he'd get to go to see Jason, got to learn more about crafting weapons. He could craft guns; he had always been able to, to a degree. It was only when he had begun learning from someone who knew what he was doing that he'd learned to craft well-made weapons.
This gun had saved Gale's life. It was mobile, meant that he didn't have to lay far away to snipe. He could snipe while standing, could snipe in awkward positions - it was so very Gale that nobody dared touch it. It was his, and he was protective over it. He cleaned it and he made sure it was fixed and hell, he'd have to fix it now. On his own.
That hurt.
His chest was still hurting. His stomach hurt, too - when had he last ate? He wasn't sure. It had been a while since he had lacked any energy to eat, or to even talk. His throat was sore, scratchy from lack of use. He'd been silent since Jason and Darius' death. Teagan was getting concerned, had remained in a phone call with him all through the night, despite the time difference between Egypt and Peru. Seven hours parted them, and yet Tea remained as gentle as ever, his words a comfort - though in the barest sense. They didn't understand, had experienced loss before, but not to this degree. Gale wasn't even sure if he was allowed to grieve, but he needed to. The last time he had been unable to grieve for someone had torn up an entire house. He was destructive when not given time, and he knew it.
Someone sat on the couch and brought his thoughts back to the present. He blinked sluggishly, shifted his weight and slid against the wall. God. He was a mess, he supposed; his hair all fluffed up as if he had run his hands through it multiple times (he had), and still in his pajamas. It took him a few moments to realise who it was, but upon the realisation, he stood up and walked over. He held his gun with one hand because, hell, it wasn't dangerous at the moment. It was broken. Again. Gale sat down heavily and tucked his legs underneath his body.
"I'm sad."
The words were matter-of-fact, and he did not expect comfort. They were spoken roughly, yet in French; he didn't want to put effort into speaking, and so he defaulted to a language he knew that Al would understand. That was just how it was.
There wasn't really much of a purpose between the two words - they were simple and blunt, and they were just meant to tell the other man how he felt. How he thought he felt. He wasn't sure. On days like these, his antidepressants could not help him. They were just a weight, something trying their best to numb him but failing. Hell, they weren't the reason he was out of bed. He knew that he couldn't just lay around if he wanted to feel better. But...well, the memories were something he could never get rid of. Eidetic memory was more of a curse than it was a blessing - picture perfect memories of everything that had happened, constantly replaying in his head as if he were still there. They haunted his dreams, decided to try to make new nightmares.
If his monsters had been dangerous before, they were even more dangerous now. It was sheer willpower that stopped them from forming, alongside training, he supposed.
Some part of Gale was curious as to if wherever Al had gone had been worth going there. The other part of him, a more dominant part at the moment, did not care. He just wanted the comfort of someone he knew. He supposed that Al had more of a reason to grieve than he did - but he just...well. He couldn't help it. At the best of times, Gale could be selfish; and breaking his rifle had just worsened his mood. It was like it had finally hit him, the realisation that Jason and Darius weren't here anymore, and they wouldn't be coming back. It felt off, the atmosphere was strange. He knew it was the feeling of mourning, but he hated it. He wanted it to go back to normal.
Frankly, the Egyptian man felt less like a man and more like a child. He just wanted to sleep and pretend nothing had happened, but that wasn't a good course of action. Hell, nor was just sitting around, but that was how he was. There wasn't anything else to do - they had to wait and see, as always. He wanted something to do, something to take his mind off it so that someone - anyone - could decide to call him out for being heartless. Hell, that was something he would've enjoyed. However, with nothing to distract him, he was left with his thoughts. His thoughts were not pretty, and they did not love him. They dared him to think more about how effed up this entire situation was, and he did. He hated it.
"I broke it," he said, and he wasn't sure why. He didn't know if Al would understand. "Again."
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Post by ѕρσттεdѕнιммεя on Jun 5, 2017 21:10:24 GMT -5
[ so question about monsters. do they always exist once created? and they just come into existence by fears of the imagination, correct? ]
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Post by ѕρσттεdѕнιммεя on Jun 5, 2017 21:22:36 GMT -5
[ just so i don't post something wrong, because i've been rereading the front page over and over to make sure i have it (though i'm still a bit insecure about the knowledge i have on this), would the concept of monsters please be explained to me?
for an example, for lexi's monster, the wraith reaper. how would that work with it existing? would there be only one that she would be able to kill or are there multiple and multiple forms? because it isn't just her who sees the monster, right? others would begin to see it and fear it as well? ]
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Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2017 21:41:10 GMT -5
taken from the front page:
that's re: "how would that work with it existing". it's explained: they're products of phobias and fear. there's one of the initial monster, hence first monster. and everyone can see it, but it'll keep itself hidden.
the existence of it is made firmer by people believing in it.
there's a lot of information about this on the front page. we made sure to keep the concept clear.
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Post by ѕρσттεdѕнιммεя on Jun 5, 2017 21:44:34 GMT -5
[ i've read it a few times, but perhaps i'm just dense. i apologize for having you have to repeat yourself over this. i just want to make sure that i have the idea right before i do anything.
as for the starter, should lexi be called to meet her new team or will one of you two do that and i'll have her waiting around? ]
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Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2017 21:46:48 GMT -5
dw abt it. patience is a virtue and im pretty patient usually. i mean i have add so sometimes i skip things just bc my focus is gross
she'll be able to knock the door of the alpha wing, since she won't have the passcode to enter the door ^^
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Jun 5, 2017 21:53:24 GMT -5
Alphonse Fournier "You want to know the truth? The truth is that we are not good people. We are survivors. The good people have already died protecting others." - ♠ - Alphonse had been preparing himself for the inevitable knock on the door, the metaphorical nail in the coffin that just emphasized the fat that Darius and Jason were long gone. He was, in fact, not prepared for the sudden weight on the couch or the new and warm presence beside him. He knew that eventually they would come to him in their grief, but he did not imagine it would be so soon. He didn't jump in surprise or respond, heart far too heavy to chastise himself for putting down his guard. He was safe here, after all. There was nothing to fear here.
Settling against the comforting and familiar warmth of Gale's body he remained still and relatively unbothered by the new addition to the sofa. Instead, he glanced over to wearily look over the younger man's features. He looked exhausted. Alphonse could sympathize with him there. He was tired himself, but he had duties to fulfill as the team's acting supervisor.
Now that those were out of the way though, his work ethic no longer clouded the aching pain in his chest or the bone weary exhaustion settling in his body that left an ache in his shoulder and missing leg. He had assumed Gale would want to keep his distance after losing Jason. He had known that Jason and Gale were close. Jason had taken the young man as something of a disciple, teaching him about weapons in so intimate a manner that it became almost disturbing.
He understood the necessity of learning the inside outs of one weapon, but took apart weapons and put them together in a manner that sometimes questioned the integrity of a weapon. Jason's love for guns was only rivaled by Gale's desire to know more about them.
He had taken the silence for a normalcy without Jason. He had expected it to be some time before Gale would ever come to him with something so honest, so true. I'm sad. The words were rough and sounded loud in the silence. He had thought the knock would be the final nail in the coffin. He had thought the new comers that were here to replace what they had once lost would be the most painful blow he would have to deal with. But it was the echoing of his own emotions, left bare and vulnerable that truly made the agony feel unbearable.
A heavy sigh escaped him, heavy and world weary. He made to reply, but the tension in Gale's body didn't fade completely away telling him that there was more on the younger man's mind. More that he had to let out before it ate away at him. And then he continued with words that only broke Al's heart even more. I broke it.
Looking at the gun Gale held in his arms he recognized it almost immediately. It was a gift, something Jason made specifically for Gale with Gale. Jason had made him his pistols, his pen knife, and modified his watch as well. Jason had also helped fix up his prosthetic leg, polished it and made it every part the weapon that he was. He knew that the gun meant a lot to Gale.
It left a knot in his stomach to imagine what it would be like for Gale to have to fix it, alone. Without Jason. "I'm sorry about the scope," he murmured in response, words soft and hollow. There was no need for pretenses here. They were safe here - with family. The words were about more than just the scope. He was sorry that Jason was dead. He was sorry he hadn't been there - with Darius and Jason. That he hadn't made it in time and hadn't been able to save them.
He swallowed hard, finally shifting to lean back into the couch, sinking into the leather. He craned his head up to look at the ceiling of their quarters. The flat grey was harsh to his eyes but also equally soothing in a strange and familiar way. He didn't talk about his feelings to others' often. He didn't come out with his grief to many other than those he trusted with every fiber of his being. Even then, the words were thick and heavy - always threatening to make him choke on them.
It was his own admission of their death that he feared most, the finality of finally saying that they were gone that made it truly final. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, "I miss them too."
And who was he to not? They had been good, respectable men. They had served with such a clear vision of what they had wanted for this world in mind. And now he was left with the pieces that they left behind. He was left with their burning fire of faith. He was left with the fragments of the hearts that were broken due to his own inability to keep his team safe.
They had deserved everything and the only thing left of them now was a jar of ashes on its way home to their families overseas. Their families. Jason's, whose wife he had met many times over and promised time and time again he would keep Jason safe and bring him back. Darius's, whose family didn't understand the true nature of Darius's job. Darius's sons who expected their father to be home to spend the weekend in the air on one of many Wilson aircrafts.
He would have to deliver the news in person with The Order's condolences, Darius and Jason's savings, and items eventually. If he received a slap for it, he knew it would be well deserved.
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Jun 5, 2017 21:55:31 GMT -5
[ i've read it a few times, but perhaps i'm just dense. i apologize for having you have to repeat yourself over this. i just want to make sure that i have the idea right before i do anything.
as for the starter, should lexi be called to meet her new team or will one of you two do that and i'll have her waiting around? ] It's okay, don't worry about it.
And as Xander said, just have Lexi knock on the door.
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Post by ѕρσттεdѕнιммεя on Jun 5, 2017 21:59:24 GMT -5
Alexis Oswell "Excuse me? Did I miss something?"
Monsters weren't something that she was used to.
She had been in the military for a few years prior to this, four years she served from the age eighteen until she was twenty-four. She had been an air pilot and she absolutely loved the thrill of testing out new planes or going out for a fly when she needed to. The twenty-four year old enjoyed the air, the rush of speed, the feeling of gravity and air pressure changing as she flew around. Lucky enough to get that kind of job, she didn't often see battles nor fights. That wasn't really a loss for her, not liking that much of fights or to see the loss of life. Prepared for it? She most definitely had been. Team mates of hers had been lost a few times in the past. That still didn't mean she liked it. So why did she enlist to be a pilot?
The feeling of flying through the speed of sound.
A speed addict, someone who enjoyed the rush of adrenaline, to see objects fly by her. Lexi loved that feeling. It had earned her the nick-name "Drifter", never being able to stay in one place. She'd drift around, enjoy the speed, even on land. Constantly in motion, you could barely trace her, you could barely get to her. Keeping herself in extremely good condition, she was almost always moving. She had the energy, she had the thrill of just doing her job. Those four years she enjoyed so much. Why'd she stop?
Reaper.
That's what she had given them the name of, originally only thinking it was just one. She called "him" the Wraith Reaper. He had appeared after a horror movie with her squad and a nightmare. Due to the circumstances that she was under, lack of sleep and such caused her to begin to hallucinate in her half-dreaming state. This creature had come to life so easily and it haunted her. One of the first cases where she came face-to-face with one. Thought of just as an over-reactive imagination, people just brushed it off. But then... it got worse. Reaper had taken on more of a form than just misty tendrils of a shadow here or there. Lexi had seen his face and so had her comrade, her best friend, Walter Grayson. It wasn't just her who had seen it.
Long story short, she was allowed to be discharged, going back home and once again finding herself drifting around. The fear had grown and grown, following her, haunting her, in her mind at all. This creature, the Wraith Reaper, had become more and more powerful as not only Alexis saw it. It had haunted her, it had hurt her and it was real, more than just an over-reactive imagination. The creature fed off her fear. It had turned one of the things she loved into something she dreaded. The twenty-seven year old loved the darkness, but with the creature's existence, this Wraith Reaper, it had terrified her of being in the dark. It hadn't been the darkness itself or the fear of the unknown. She loved that feeling, stepping into unfamiliar territory and just taking a run for it. It was the creature inside the darkness that terrified her.
They had found her, though. The Order of Hunllefau. A team had helped her, a team had come to help her with .... Reaper. These people, these soldiers, these warriors... they had interested her so much. Lexi had wanted in on the action, this was something she was willing to put her life down for. Face her worst fears? Monster hunting? What better way to get back into the life-style she had been in for four years, the best four years of her life? It wasn't testing airplanes of a military grade or anything, but it was sure as heck something that she could do. Lexi wanted nothing more than to fight these fears, to fight against these... creatures.
Her application was in, she had wanted to learn more and she waited. She was trained, given her weapons, two pistols that she absolutely adored and loved having around. Lexi had found herself back into the environment that she loved once more and she spent her time practicing, making her aim better, moving around, keeping herself fit. Always had on her orange goggles of course, no matter the silly looks she got while practicing with her rapid pistols. White tank top, orange pants, black boots. This was her attire she pretty much wore on a regular basis, spending each day training herself, trying her best to do what she can.
Two months.
Training for two whole months without a word. She applied to be in a team, of course. Getting better and joining Team Alpha was most definitely her interest in this whole ordeal. The best of the best, from what she had heard. Lexi wanted to be with them. She wanted to be on the front lines, she wanted to be there to help when no one else could. It had been an impulsive, perhaps selfish thought, to think she could be on that team eventually. But she waited, patiently, getting her aim up to par with her own standards, pushing herself every day. Her fighting style wasn't cautious, it wasn't careful or well planned. She rushed in and she did what her gut told her to do. Perhaps it wasn't the best for Team Alpha, but it was what she wanted. An improviser in probably the worst scenario to be one in, that was Alexis Oswell alright.
"Alexis Lena Oswell."
The twenty-seven year old stood up straight, slightly out of breath, her arms down by her sides. At the practice range once again with her pistols, she hadn't expected someone to come say her name. Her weapons quickly being put in their holsters and spinning around on a dime to face those of which she was addressed, she puffed out her chest and saluted quickly. "Yes, sir?"
"Please report to the Alpha Wing immediately." a taller male stated. Lexi noted that he looked from an Asian heritage with a... was that a Japanese accent? The second he turned around she stifled a laugh, finding his little ponytail get-up absolutely adorable. He glanced back at her, making her stand up a little straighter and wipe the look of amusement from her face. Until he looked away again.
"Yes, sir!" she stated, holding back her laugh as best she could, her laughter bubbling up in her chest. She gave another little formal salute and took off to the direction of the wing she had been wanting to explore since she had gotten there. After being around here for two months, Lexi had gotten the layout of the place mapped out decently in her mind. She had always been curious what the best team's area looked like. She considered them the best of the best. "Ten pounds says I busted my chances," she murmured to herself.
Getting to the door, she encountered a problem. Lexi did not have the code to get into the wing. Running a gloved hand through her short, spiky styled chocolate brown hair, the British girl gave a small sigh before puffing up her chest and rasping her knuckles on the door. "Alexis Oswell reportin' in!" she called out, once again standing straight as a board with her hands by her side. Her goggles still were over her face, making her dark chocolate brown eyes have almost having a golden tint to them from the fiber that protected her eyes. Why she had them on? Practice with her pistols, of course.
Was she in trouble? Surely not, for all she did was train. Was she being assigned a team, finally? Drifter, as she fondly called herself, could only imagine. Without a clue why she was here, an inkling of curiosity on why she was here, the twenty-seven year old could only wait in anticipation for what was to come next. Unfortunately, she was a rather impatient girl who didn't like standing still or waiting around.
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Post by ѕρσттεdѕнιммεя on Jun 5, 2017 22:04:23 GMT -5
[ i once again apologize if i got any of the information messed or mixed up. i am trying my best to understand. please tell me if something is wrong so i may correct it. ]
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Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2017 22:15:52 GMT -5
Gale Amari "I acted like it wasn't a big deal, when really, it was breaking my heart." | ◙ |
Al was a comfort, and he was not ashamed to admit that to himself. The other man understood, didn't waste time with words that wouldn't help. Gale nodded slowly and looked down to his rifle. He wasn't ready to fix it - wasn't ready to go to the workbench. It would be lonely, tiring. Yet, he knew he'd have to. He'd have to fix other's weapons and work on his own and make new, and while he knew he wouldn't be up to Jason's standards, he didn't care. He didn't want to be compared to someone he missed so dearly. Already, it was strange to not be pestering the other man.
He supposed he'd have to pester someone else.
I miss them too. To a degree, he was glad that Al managed to put his own thoughts in words. However, hearing what he was thinking out loud...Gale closed his eyes and adjusted himself so that he was half-curled in on himself. Talking to someone did not feel great, but it took some of the weight from his chest. Maybe he was being unfair on everyone, trying to distance himself instead of taking into consideration their own grief. Hell, he'd always known that he was like that. He took the comfort he could get and did not spare a thought for others.
Bad thoughts returned, and Gale did not like it. He flicked his gaze up to study Alphonse's face idly, only jerked out of his thoughts by the knocking on the door. He looked up slowly and then looked back to the other man, and gave what could've been a smile, but looked more like pain.
"This soon?" he asked, because he knew he wouldn't have to clarify.
Gale didn't wait for an answer, however. Instead, he chose to remove himself from the sofa and wandered to the workbench, gently setting his rifle over it. He'd...he'd force himself to work on it later. He couldn't just sit around doing nothing because Jason wasn't here; he knew how everything worked here, he could do it.
"I'll get dressed," he breathed, though it was more to himself. He went off to do just that - headed back to the bedrooms so that he could get clothes. Hell, he didn't want to appear like a ruffled mess to whoever was supposed to replace Jason and Darius. It took him mere moments to change into something casual, absently winding his scarf around his neck. Fixing his hair. Not bothering to do his makeup, because the newcomers could suffer with a tired, grieving Gale. He didn't care at this point in time.
And then he found himself wanting to go back to bed, to get back into his pajamas and just go to sleep. However, if Al could stay strong, then...then...so could he. He could fix the scope (again), he could ensure that everything was in working order, he could function like a normal goddamn human being again. He remained barefoot as he walked back out to the living area, absently pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. Instead of going back to the workbench that he'd all but dumped his rifle on, however, he returned to the couch and tucked his legs underneath his body again.
"I don't like this," he told Al firmly, having taken barely a few minutes to change his clothes, "and I don't like them."
It didn't take much guesswork to mean the newcomers whom he hadn't even met, but Gale had always been stubborn. Was used to the others, and not used to outsiders. Team Alpha, after all, had to be as close-knit as possible for them to survive.
It hadn't worked.
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Jun 5, 2017 22:36:10 GMT -5
The only correction I can see on your post Momo is that Alexis should not be able to apply for Team Alpha. She should be applying for other teams, yes, but not Team Alpha because they are highly selective in their vetting and the forms they accept are veterans only. The only reason she has been moved from the rookie team pool into Team Alpha's selection pool is because they need two new replacements and there's little time to open up a vetting pool and even less available members to be moved from teams to Team Alpha
Also, Alexis should not have defeated her monster yet :') She's a rookie training to overcome her fear of her monster to figure out what it's vulnerability is. If she slays it, they might keep her as a member of The Order.
Just to clarify
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Post by ѕρσттεdѕнιммεя on Jun 5, 2017 22:40:35 GMT -5
[ ah, thank you for clarifying! i'll fix that up right now~ ]
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Post by Salted Squid on Jun 6, 2017 0:42:07 GMT -5
Wow
Definitely wanna join this but
holy cow those big posts are intimidating uvu))
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Post by Deleted on Jun 6, 2017 2:33:58 GMT -5
lul for me and dia these are short
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Jun 6, 2017 3:40:06 GMT -5
no worries, it makes perfect sense to not be able to assimilate right in. If you have any questions, please ask me or Xander. Also try to iron out inconsistencies in the future as we disclose more information about the universe through our posts :')
and hello Aviva, lul we're finally getting to flex our writer muscles. feels good.
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