Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Nov 27, 2020 1:08:11 GMT -5
Orpheus was getting really sick of water. There was no land in sight, and though Orpheus had known that going in… there was a lot about solid land that he missed. It was a surprise, then, to feel soft grass underneath his bare feet. Not an unwelcome one at all. The somber song he’d been playing turned more cheerful, almost of its own volition. He could vaguely hear the sounds of children having fun somewhere, though when he opened his eyes, he didn’t see any. Perhaps… he was on a hill somewhere? Orpheus didn’t particularly feel like investigating. He was enjoying the feeling of the sun beaming down on him, and the grass beneath his toes. It was slightly damp, which he didn’t understand until he looked up and noticed the tank of water. It was clear, for the most part, and only half full. There seemed to be a contraption situated about a foot above the water – a seat, of some sort? Off to the side was a tarp. It had a target against it, a metal arm that seemed attached to the clear water basin. There was a bucket of balls next to it, though Orpheus didn’t understand their purpose. He kept playing. |
|
Asexual
Lark
Hello, its just, me, and 1567396558397583479 larks
|
Post by Lark on Nov 27, 2020 1:23:16 GMT -5
Steve blinked into the room wearing his now stained set of casual attire that he'd been having since the alley way fight. If you can even call it a fight to begin with, the pummeling did a number on him. It might have done some slight damage to Steve who upon blinking in was not suspicious of the dunk tank. Not even about the person who stood there wearing no shoes on filthy ground they all appeared to be stranded on. "Hey, again." The words were awkward but Steve greeted Orpheus with a slight wave of his hand. The man had a familiar but one he couldn't exactly give a name to. Lacking the ability to recall who the musician was, the teen turned his around around thinking the noise was coming from a few brats who didn't know better to pipe down. "I'm Steve." He greeted him absentmindedly, becoming disorientated with his blinks occurring one second after another. One blink he could see the Byer's porch and the next he'd be thrusted into someone's drama - he still needed to wash out myrnin's weird tears off his sweater. He forgot, of course, most kids in the house were too quiet for his liking or violent. A miracle he hadn't been stabbed in the shins yet, much to his dismay. |
|
|
|
Post by ~∂єѕтιиу on Nov 27, 2020 1:29:52 GMT -5
Vincent blinked in already seated, one leg crossed with his ankle resting on his other knee, his fingers drumming quietly on a now missing table top. He glanced down looking baffled that he’d somehow missed the table his palm had been sitting on, then looked around himself with the same puzzled expression as he realized he was now sitting above water. His hands took ahold of the small seat he’d been abandoned on, lifting his legs away from the pool with a look of disgust.
Hardly feeling secure on the small, wobbly seat he was supported by, the blond began to search for an exit. His progress was quickly interrupted by the sight of two figures outside the tank, both standing idly in what seemed to be an impressive expanse of open plain. The man gave the pair an expectant look from the other side of the glass, then leaned forward slightly with a huff of annoyance. “The hell is this?” He demanded, giving a vague gesture around him with a sharp nod of his head.
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Nov 27, 2020 1:39:51 GMT -5
“Orpheus,” Orpheus returned with a wave, shifting his instrument to his back now that he was no longer alone. He thought he had seen Steve before, but it was hard to tell sometimes. If he didn’t get someone’s name he was generally worse at remembering them. Blinks also tended to be shorter than he liked, sometimes. That made it harder to remember people for sure as well. “Nice to meet you, Steve,” he added as an afterthought. Meeting people was still new to him. He didn’t want to do it wrong. “Hm?” He hadn’t noticed Vincent appear at first, but his presence was impossible to miss now. He was sitting on the strange seat thing, and he didn’t look too happy about it. “No idea,” he replied, frowning. “I don’t know what this thing… is. Can you get out? Or… do you like being in there?” |
|
|
|
|
|
Post by ~∂єѕтιиу on Nov 27, 2020 2:08:37 GMT -5
Vincent repositioned himself so he could move around to the best of his ability, though he was hesitant to shift his weight too much due to the seat squeaking dangerously each time he pressed down in on it. He turned an icy glare on Orpheus as the teen spoke, his expression was hard to read as he analyzed the musician through the glass. After several seconds he seemed to decide that the younger blinker was being genuine in his stupidity, earning him nothing but a cold look before his gaze flicked towards Steve.
He narrowed his eyes at the kid’s choice of words, titling his head a bit as he tried to remember who he was talking to. He allowed himself to look confused as he thought about it, then raised his eyebrows in recognition after a few moments. “Did I upset you last time you spoke to me?” He asked, sounding genuinely curious, though a smirk on his face betrayed the intent in his voice. He sighed, knocking his knuckle on the tank near Steve’s face, not surprised to discover it wasn’t glass he’d be able to shatter. The odds of him being able to get out on his own weren’t looking good...that was a bit unfortunate.
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Nov 27, 2020 2:18:18 GMT -5
“A… band?” Orpheus repeated, tilting his head a little bit. He hadn’t heard the term before – he’d have to ask L when he saw him next if he knew what it meant. He would have asked Steve, only it seemed that the boy was occupied with the man in the tank. There was history there, and Orpheus wasn’t entirely sure that it was something he wanted to get in the middle of. Why was it that every time he blinked in there was someone bickering, or fighting, or… something? He was supposed to be making the House fair, not helping sort through squabbles. It would have been easier to keep his promise if everyone would just get along. It seemed that the man in the tank was upset with him, too, if the glare was any indication. Orpheus didn’t see why. Perhaps it was just because he wasn’t inside the tank, and the man wanted out? The target confused him – it seemed like the ones he’d seen heroes use for target practice when it came to spear throwing or archery. Perhaps… “It seems like a game of sorts!” he mused, moving forward to pick up one of the balls from the basket. “If you can’t get out on your own, maybe we have to help you?” |
|
Asexual
Lark
Hello, its just, me, and 1567396558397583479 larks
|
Post by Lark on Nov 27, 2020 2:38:42 GMT -5
Steve could already sense the blonde pushing his buttons this early during the room. That glare wasn't a good look on him although he refused to voice that kind of judgement. Had it not been the fact he was arguing with a full on adult, it would have felt like he was talking to another junior. Seniors had that arrogant vibe to them which fit Vince perfectly, maybe too much but he could bet they'd at least know better to fidget in an actual tank. "Maybe I should be asking you that question?" Two can play that game. Whatever attitude Jonathan wiped off Steve's formerly smug and unharmed face began to seep back into him. Steve placed his hands on his hips peering down at the glass shield that had been tapped on his side. Yet the musician reeled him back with questions. Oh right, dude didn't even know what a band was! "Yeah, that's definitely a bullseye." His brown gaze focused on the target Orpheus had found nearby. Besides the chilling laughter of children it paled in comparison to the unhappy trio's voices. "You gotta throw the ball at it, I can show you the ropes if you want?" Steve shrugged, his demeanor ragged and his pride knocked down a few pegs. He needed to remind himself that not everyone was from the same world, thoughtless grabbing a ball as well. Good thing he didn't get hit in his throwing arm of all places otherwise he couldn't make a good impression on either of the blinkers. |
|
|
|
Post by ~∂єѕтιиу on Nov 27, 2020 3:17:40 GMT -5
“Perhaps,” Vincent humored flatly, letting his weight shift backwards again with a creak from the tiny seat. His hands pulled through his hair with an aloof sigh, glancing above him as he began to tune out the brunette. He couldn’t quite remember all that Steve had said to him last time they spoke, given that he’d been distracted at the time and hadn’t actually given the kid any kind of verbal response. He got the feeling that this situation would end similarly.
He ignored Steve and looked towards Orpheus, looking him up and down several times. Without saying anything, he peered at the target he’d mentioned with a frown. His eyes tracked the tank’s set up for several seconds, his absent expression of confusion slowly turning into begrudging realization. His pale eyes moved towards the water, calculating the situation rapidly in his brain as he slowly blinked down at the still pool. Once his eyes left the water he seemed to have accepted his fate, watching the others with his cheek resting in his palm.
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Nov 27, 2020 10:16:16 GMT -5
Rue winced. It was hard to hear Noah talk about his death like that, like it was just something that happened. To hear the pain in his voice, the bitterness, the fear. She stared at the spilled glitter instead, unable to meet his eyes. She felt like she kept misunderstanding him and she didn’t want to, she wanted to understand what Noah was saying here, what he really meant. She watched the two pieces fit without speaking. It was so hard to forget that she was different now, so hard to ignore all the new information pressing at her senses. It was also hard to speak. She wondered whether he was misunderstanding her the same way she seemed to be him. “Oh.” She said softly, and blinked up at him, finally searching his eyes. Everything he had said to her before was slowly clicking into place, and she understood why he’d been so upset with her. She’d understood before, to an extent, but not like this. “I think it is, too.” She told him, giving a low sigh as she leaned back, surveying the pieces they hadn’t picked up yet. There were still so many tiny shards left untouched. “Of course I think life is beautiful. How could I not? It’s just that...I think this is still living.” She fell silent, her eyes wide as she listened to him explain. They found his blue eyes and stayed there, hers no longer red but a gentle dark brown. She still looked deceptively human, at least, to other humans. It was possible to forget the choice she’d been forced to make, looking at her now. The difference was her expression. The hope in her eye that hadn’t been there before. She’d had brave words before, she’d promised to try, she’d said not to count her out on live TV, but there was a reason she didn’t get any sponsors. She knew brave words weren’t enough. “I wish you could see it the way I do.” She said softly, still watching him carefully. The wariness was gone now, though. “I wish you could understand that for me, I chose to live. For me, seeing tomorrow, not being gone...it means everything. Maybe that’s selfish of me. Maybe I should get to be selfish, just this once.” She didn’t breathe. She didn’t need to. She didn’t look at the snow globe again. Her fingers found a shard and traced its sharp edge, barely avoiding being cut by it. “I’m sorry, too.” She told him. “Not for what I did. I can’t be sorry for that. But I’m sorry that I didn’t understand what you were trying to say. I’m sorry I got mad at you instead.” She could tell he was trying, and she knew he was holding back some of the things he wanted to say for her sake, and it meant everything to her. It made her believe this wasn’t unfixable. The new vampire didn’t speak right away as he continued, and she looked at the pieces. It was going to take a long time to piece it together again, she thought. Even then, it wouldn’t be exactly the same. But it would be better than it was now, and better than if they hadn’t tried. She looked at him, startled. If she’d had any tears left, she might have cried again. “You said you didn’t want anything to do with me.” She managed in a tiny, breakable voice, and she hunched a little, as though preparing herself for something. For him to tell her he’d been right before maybe. But then, maybe this was another thing she’d misunderstood. “I’ll let you know.” She added quietly, almost smiling back. Not quite, but the ghost of it was there. “Give me some time. I’ll let you know if I think this is better. Let me figure out what to do next first, though. She stared at the pieces. Maybe it wouldn’t be the same. But maybe it still mattered that they were trying. “I still want to be friends.” She continued, so softly if there’d been anything but silence, it would have been lost. “I won’t agree with you that this isn’t living. And I still think I did the right thing, the only thing I could do. But I don’t want to lose someone I care about, even if you think I’m just a dead thing now.” |
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Nov 27, 2020 11:15:03 GMT -5
Kelsier had no room to lecture. He was the one who frequently took on multiple people trained specifically to kill him, after all. He was the one who went out at night alone and burned down buildings and killed noblemen and he was the one who started wars. It seemed unlikely that Nico started wars. He just had to fight them. It gave Kelsier a little more sympathy for the Skaa he was dragging into his war. He may have been fighting for the weak, the children left alone and starving, but he also knew that this was not a war without casualties. He focused on Nico, pushing the thought away. He had plenty of time to muse on his own world when he was in it, he didn’t need to waste time doing it now. He looked at the scepter. It wasn’t that he thought Nico was lying - he didn’t - but he had the distinct impression that there were some key details the boy had left out. Details that he guessed would make him angry. Or were just too painful to talk about. He didn’t like to think what could have happened to be bad enough for Nico to avoid the topic like that, but he resisted the urge to ask, because he could tell the questions weren’t invited or welcome. It wasn’t like him to be silent and respectful, but he was trying. He did stare at the scepter for a few more minutes, though. Just to let Nico know he knew there was more to the story. Then he focused on the butterfly again, and his expression softened. He couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from the delicate wings, the small, coin sized body. Of course he realized. Of course he understood the importance of the tiny object. It was what it represented more than anything else, it was the fact that it came from the boy he’d killed and threatened to kill as many times as it took for him to stay dead. How far they’d come from that first meeting, now that they’d saved each other. Now that they were much more than enemies, more than allies, even. Kelsier didn’t often change his mind about people, he didn’t often take things back, but Nico was an exception to the rule in more ways than one, and the Mistborn would always regret what he’d done. It was like Nico hadn’t really thought about the fact that he’d saved Kel’s life, too. Of course he hadn’t, of course he had merely thought about being saved, because he didn’t consider himself worth as much as other people, and he was wrong. He was so wrong. He meant what he’d said. There were not a lot of things that could be considered worth giving in his world, but he would find something. Something Nico would like. He watched the boy, head tilted slightly, one eyebrow raised. The expression on Nico’s face was difficult to read, but Kel had a feeling it was more confused than anything else. He wasn’t sure what he had expected Nico to say. Had he expected to be told he could never be friends with someone like Kelsier? Had he expected to be told that whatever they had now, it wasn’t that? It didn’t matter what he expected, though, because a moment later Nico answered him. “I’m glad.” He said softly, and he smiled. It was a genuine expression. He didn’t even have to make it on purpose. He looked at the butterfly again, his fingers holding it carefully, like he wasn’t quite sure how breakable it might be. “I’ll do my best to be worthy of the title.” |
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Nov 27, 2020 12:26:49 GMT -5
If Orpheus had known what throwing the balls would do, he might not have been so eager to agree. But Vincent wasn’t responding to his question, and he didn’t seem to be actively trying to get out, so Orpheus felt comfortable directing his attention towards the target. Or bullseye, as Steve had called it. “Sure!” He replied, tilting his head a little bit and grabbing another ball. Steve had implied a need to throw it at the target, and since it didn’t seem like that was going to hurt anyone… Orpheus was okay with trying it. He wasn’t a great shot, he’d never really played sports or done anything of that nature. If he ever tried discus, he had a feeling he would fail miserably. But the target was decently large, and the balls needed to be less precise than arrows were, so it didn’t seem impossible. “Throwing the ball doesn’t seem too difficult,” he added with a soft smile, “Although I admit I don’t really see the point.” |
|
|
|
Post by --cato phoenix on Nov 28, 2020 20:21:44 GMT -5
[[ (slightly) less-mini Arlo || Living Room || ~∂ЄЅТΙИУ ]] Arlo tensed as she noticed someone appear on the couch at the edge of her vision. Her grip tightened slightly on the bag before she recognized the other blinker as the man she’d met the last time she’d blinked in, now close to two years ago, who’d apparently known her... other self. She seemed to remember him asking what she knew just before she’d blinked out, but she hadn’t been sure if he’d meant what she knew about the House, or about the other Arlo who’d been there. “Hey,” she said finally, then nodded. “I haven’t blinked in since I met you though. I think the other one… stopped blinking in.” She paused for a moment, questioning whether she wanted to ask about that, then quickly continued speaking. “Hook, right? It’s uh... been over a year since I’ve blinked in, do you know if much has happened around here?” |
|
|
|
Post by ~∂єѕтιиу on Nov 29, 2020 14:07:51 GMT -5
Hook - --cato phoenixThe captain cocked an eyebrow at the young girl’s statement, a bit doubtful that the House wouldn’t be eager to flaunt the ghost of a familiar face as much as possible, though apparently lacking reason to accuse her of lying. “Probably,” he hummed in agreement to her speculations, scratching nervously at his neck and glancing in another direction. It was a bit weird discussing someone’s unpleasant future with their younger self, and the pirate made his discomfort fairly obvious as he quickly diverted to a new topic. “Aye, that’s it; you haven’t missed much, not of my knowings at least.” He paused a moment, then shrugged. “I probably ain’t the man to ask, the company’s’ a bit callous towards me - wouldn’t tell me shit.” Distantly aware of his aggressive tone, he sighed and ended his tangent there. “What’s in the bag then?” He asked abruptly, unable to drop his curiosity. |
|
|
|
Post by ~∂єѕтιиу on Nov 29, 2020 14:38:28 GMT -5
"Looking for youuuuuuuu," Myrnin pointed out. Then waved goofily at Vincent as he said, "Hey Vice!" He had little intention of using his actual name, and anyway, Juuzou wasn't. Which pleased him. Though he wondered what ways this little ghoul hunter had of working out who Myrnin was. The goofy grin he had sent to Vincent laxed a little. Was there anything in his mind that might give him a toe-hold in this little dance of his? "So teleportation?" he asked. "Only limited to a place you can see, yes?" Or perhaps where he'd been before? If there were limitations to Myrnin's own powers, it was that he could only read what was on a person's mind at the moment. It wasn't the invasive, all encompassing technique he naturally possessed (but refused to use). So he couldn't dig around in Juuzou's brain to see why he hunted ghouls or what other details he was missing. Unfortunate, but still useful. "I've met a new friend here," he said, waving to Juuzou. "He picked a power too. As for what I'm doing more specifically, why were you moving away? Just so I had to chase you?" He was talking to Vince, but his attention was still on Juuzou - specifically his thoughts. Vincent kept his hands in his pockets, chin lifted proudly as Myrnin waved. He lifted an eyebrow as the vampire questioned his new ability, not bothering trying to mask his smirk. He glanced around the area, letting his smile fall into a look of disappointment. “Don’t try and dissect my fun,” he scowled the vampire in a lofty tone. The vampire’s new ability would assure him that he was right, of course, but the man didn’t seem like he’d be too wounded that he’d been figured out. He wasn’t planning on running far from the action - not that he thought he could. He assumed Myrnin could tail him just about anywhere if he wanted to. His gaze followed the gesture towards Juuzou, staring blankly in greeting. He scoffed as Myrnin went on, turning his attention back to him. “Don’t be egotistical, Myrnin,” he mused in response. He found the vampire chasing him to be similar to a stray mutt, begging for attention, but his internal dialogue wouldn’t deny that he’d been expecting it - feeding into it even. A gentle look of surprise crossed his features as Juuzou disappeared, and in an instant the man was standing at the opposite side of the vampire - just out of arms reach and ready to vanish at any moment. He leaned forward slightly, hands now folded behind him as he smirked at the other blinker. “What...exactly...are you accomplishing by keeping such a keen eye on me?” |
|
|
|
Post by ~∂єѕтιиу on Nov 29, 2020 15:52:20 GMT -5
Hook - striderHook blinked into the living room, his arrival in the House only catching the incoherent end of whatever he was shouting. He was walking at a brisk pace, his good hand lifted and moving about to elaborate on whatever orders he’d been barking out; though it merely dropped with a frustrated slap against his thigh when an eerie silence cut into the chaos of his world. The captain took a few slow steps in the direction he’d been walking, then turned himself around once or twice as he tried to figure out what to do with his lingering adrenaline. He hoped the House wouldn’t keep him long, though he wasn’t terribly optimistic considering he actually had rather important matters to attend to back home. |
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Nov 29, 2020 22:55:35 GMT -5
“Stupid ghosts!” The anger and exasperation in Nico’s voice was practically tangible as he blinked in, the scepter in his hand pulsing purple as he fed his energy into it. He grimaced as he recognized the House, flinging the scepter at the ground with as much strength as he had. It stopped glowing but (thankfully) didn’t break. He still needed it, if only for a little bit longer. He managed to take a deep breath, shaking off the chaos of his world as he looked around. He was alone, almost. He hadn’t expected to ever be alone with Hook. On opposite sides of a room with lots of people, maybe, but alone? That was a new one. They hadn’t talked since he’d killed Nico. Twice. If Nico were being charitable, the first time didn’t actually count. |
|
|
|
Post by ~∂єѕтιиу on Nov 30, 2020 0:56:42 GMT -5
striderHook turned sharply as another blinker’s voice flooded the living room, his hand immediately latched around the handle of his sword as something clattered to the ground. He gave Nico a long, harsh look before easing his grip off his weapon - sheepishly averting his gaze to try and ignore the fact he’d nearly just impulsively cut into the kid a third time. He couldn’t fathom what the other blinker was meddling with back in his world, but he could acknowledge that he looked equally as disgruntled as the pirate felt; which admittedly made him a little tense. He still had no clue where Nico’s opinions of him fell, and considering the demigod’s uncanny habit of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, he was still awaiting some kind of backlash from the lad. His casual demeanor had been something of an enigma to the captain - leaving him constantly suspicious that Nico was just waiting for the perfect moment to do...something. Glancing over the skinny boy, he wasn’t actually sure what he was expecting, though he supposed staying cautious of a plot for revenge was only in his best interest. He didn’t offer a greeting besides a sigh through his nose when he realized it was unlikely another blinker would join them.
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Nov 30, 2020 22:39:41 GMT -5
Nico couldn’t judge Hook for reacting to things by grabbing for his sword. It wasn’t as though Nico’s gut reaction was too much different, especially when he was on edge. When you lived in a dangerous world, you learned to be the most dangerous thing around. It was a survival tactic. The only thing was… in the House, you couldn’t be the most dangerous thing around, and if you tried, you’d get yourself killed or worse. The House clearly intended them to talk, otherwise it wouldn’t have left them alone like this. From Nico’s perspective, there wasn’t anything to talk about. What was he even supposed to say? ‘Oh, thanks for killing me, try your hardest not to do it again?’ It wasn’t like Hook had intended to kill Nico the last time, there had just been… well, he didn’t actually know what had happened last time. Hook had flipped on a dime. He shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes drifting towards the infamous hook. He had more reason to dislike its owner than most, yet he found it hard to hold it against him. After all, on reflex he had killed that woman in that one room… she had come back to life, but if she hadn’t, he would be just as guilty as Hook. “Are we just planning on standing here?” he asked wryly, rocking on the balls of his feet. |
|
|
|
Post by <Raintalon> on Dec 1, 2020 15:22:59 GMT -5
Sherlock | Living room | ®Hawkpath® |Sherlock blinked into the House, sitting on the couch with her eyes closed, her fingers pressed into a steeple in front of her face. Moments later, her eyes flew open, and she slowly stood up, turning in a small circle as she eyed her surroundings with no small amount of confusion, trying to figure out how she'd gone from her couch to.....wherever this was. "How strange..." she muttered to herself, brushing her finger against the wall and noting no dust despite the poor condition of the room. Had she been kidnapped...? Drugged?
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 1, 2020 15:32:29 GMT -5
Sherlock blinked in, leaning back, a supremely sleepy look on his face. He didn’t even twitch as he appeared, though a small, pleased smile immediately lifted his features. He eyed the newbie - she was clearly a newbie, anyone could tell that much - as she touched the wall. “No dust.” He echoed her thoughts, his own voice lazy. “Very strange, isn’t it? Don’t bother trying to take a sample of the stains, either, you won’t be able to tell what they are.” He sat up suddenly, bouncing to his feet, his smile growing more intense as he processed the room. “Finally.” He breathed, pure happiness coating his tone. He leaned his head back and laughed. “Finally! I can hardly believe I’m here. I haven’t thought the House could be a dream in a long time, but I almost think it now, it’s been so long.” He paused dramatically, taking a breath. “I’m back,” he announced. |
|
|
|
Post by <Raintalon> on Dec 1, 2020 15:44:31 GMT -5
Sherlock Squared | Living room | ®Hawkpath® |Sherlock turned, blinking in confusion as a person seemed to appear out of thin air - well, she hadn't caught his exact moment of arrival, but how had she missed an entire person? No visible ventilation ducts, one door...very interesting. "You're very energetic, aren't you?" she observed, head turning in mild amusement to watch the man's progress around the room. House. Finally. Been here before. Pleased to be back - but behaves as if he's been summoned rather than turned up on his own? "And who might you be?"
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 1, 2020 16:00:05 GMT -5
Sherlock turned, spinning in place, arms spread out, head tilted back. His trench coat flew out behind him like a cape as he turned, his expression reminiscent of a kid on Christmas morning. He finally stopped, breathless for a moment, and focused on the newbie. His bright blue eyes fixed on her without blinking, taking in everything he could see at once. Newbie, certainly. Wasn’t panicking, did that mean she was used to similar things happening to her, or that she’d come to a conclusion that already worked for how she saw the world? It could also speak to her personality. He gave an odd smile that could have been friendly if it wasn’t so intense. Then he pointed to her. “And you’re new.” He told her, his tone low and very confident. He walked towards her, then paused, tilting his head as new information assaulted him. “Well?” He said expectantly, watching her. “Which is is? Police, or independent?” |
|
|
|
Post by <Raintalon> on Dec 1, 2020 16:04:01 GMT -5
Sherlock 2: Electric Boogaloo | Living room | ®Hawkpath® |Sherlock met the new person's gaze with one just as intense, her own dark eyes staring into his light ones as she returned his smile, alight with excitement and interest. "Independent, with policing contracts," she answered quickly, and then fired back just as fast. "Married, or just a roommate?"
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 1, 2020 16:17:39 GMT -5
“Roommate.” He returned easily, filing the new information away at the same time. Interesting. His features shifted, an expression of pure delight coming over them, as he tilted his head first one way, then the other. “Excellent.” He added, his bright eyes holding hers, his body nearly vibrating with energy. He bounced on his heels, unable to sit still. “Splendid. Bloody hell, it’s been too long.” A pause. “No, it’s not what you’re thinking. Please, if you’d been drugged, you’d have succumbed to gravity, yes?” |
|
|
|
Post by <Raintalon> on Dec 1, 2020 16:23:19 GMT -5
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA | Living room | ®Hawkpath® |Sherlock narrowed her eyes, a calculating expression on her features as she kept his gaze, adjusting to his rhythm with ease as she came to the conclusion that the two of them were not altogether different. "To dismiss the possibility based off a small detail like that at this stage of investigation would be premature," she fired back, pacing in a small circle around him as she spoke, eyeing him from every angle. "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Teleportation? Impossible. Dream? I would know. Magic? Ridiculous. Drugs? Perhaps, but there is not yet enough information to draw or eliminate that conclusion, is there?" She leaned forward suddenly, her nose inches from his, looking him dead in the eye. "Well? You're familiar with this place, but you don't know any more than I do. What's your theory?"
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 1, 2020 16:37:42 GMT -5
Sherlock actually listened for once in his life as she listed the possibilities, and he circled her back, moving so he could watch her expression without missing even a second. “Good.” He said, and inspected her back just as closely, circling, always moving, too much energy. He hadn’t felt this alive in months. “Very good. And close, too.” He stopped when she did, and he stared back, still smiling as their eyes met. If the intensity could have sparked a fire between them, it would have. A deduction on her part. A good one. Oh, she was fun, wasn’t she? He might even have called her a genius. “My theory?” He continued, eyes bright with a blue fire that blazed through the rest of him too, obvious in the way he stood, the energy coursing through him. “I have a few, as anyone ought to. This is nothing like what you’re used to, I guarantee that much. Care to try walking through a door?” |
|
|
|
Post by <Raintalon> on Dec 1, 2020 16:56:37 GMT -5
Sherlock | Hallway | ®Hawkpath® |"Being used to a state of affairs only leads to dulling of the senses," said Sherlock dismissively, turning away from him to continue her investigation of the room as she spoke. His tone held confidence - too much, in her opinion. Being sure of yourself could be a blessing or a curse - which it was for him remained to be seen. "Door," she repeated, grabbing the edge of the hallway doorframe and swinging herself into the hallway in one forceful movement. "One hundred and thirty seven," she said out loud, after a moment. She did not clarify. She then turned her gaze to the doors themselves - all identical to the point of suspicion - there seemed to be no marks, no paint chips, no damage to set them apart from each other. Even doors straight off an assembly line should be distinguishable on some level. It bothered her. She kicked one of the doors, leaving a small dent in the paint with her heel. There. Better. But why were none of the others different already...it didn't add up. Not waiting for the person behind her, she grabbed one of the handles and swung open the door, allowing it to slam on its hinges and presumably cause further damage. Darkness inside. Not hesitating, she walked through, passing through the dark and finding herself........
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 1, 2020 17:16:19 GMT -5
“And yet we all do it, don’t we, try as we might not to.” Sherlock returned just as rapidly, watching her turn away, his eyes narrowing. She was like him, wasn’t she, in a lot of ways, but not the same, not identical, there were differences, what was she on about anyway? He followed, stepping into the hallway after her, not asking about the number, instead focusing on the hallway. It had been too long, far too long, he’d missed this. “Won’t stay.” He said immediately as she kicked the door, though he didn’t look up. She was impressive, yes, but the House had most of his attention at the moment. Then she stepped through a door, and in he went after her without hesitation, letting it close behind him. Inside was a dark room, lit only by a few candles along the left wall. It was perfectly circular, made of stone, and quite cold. At first glance, there wasn’t much, but if you looked closely you could see various clues that something had happened here, recently. |
|
|
|
Post by <Raintalon> on Dec 1, 2020 17:29:21 GMT -5
Sherlock | Mystery room | ®Hawkpath® |Sherlock took a turn around the room, at first just curious as to what it was, but then, after a few seconds, she stopped, her gaze settling first on the scuff marks on the walls, then on something that was on the floor.... She knelt down, running her finger through the dust, and held it up to the dull candle light. Ash. There was a bigger picture here. "Do you see it?" she asked the person behind her, not turning to look at him.
|
|
