discovery

scholar archaeologist inventor compulsive liar aristocrat siren

[comebxckqueen]

When in Sanctuary, one only needs to look in one place for Nisha: nestled right under Moxxi’s well-endowed taps. With the level of trust between her and the Crimson Raiders leaving her shackled with a chaperone at all times, she’s not apt to linger anywhere else. It’s not her first choice of watering holes, but when you’ve been kicked out of just about every bar in the hemisphere and your fast travel access is still restricted, you have to compromise. She can only stand Hodunk moonshine for so long before it starts to eat holes in her gut.

She can’t tell if Zer0 is her most or least favorite person to be babysat by. On one hand, they spare her the awkward attempts at idle conversation, and generally they’re content to let her be. On the other, they’re always staring (or so she feels, but who really knows what’s going on under that mask?) and it’s not the greatest time to remember that they’re the one who took out her eye with one well-placed shot. Nonetheless, she seems comfy, boots propped up on the table, a bundle of darts in hand, and Zer0 patiently stationed in front of the board while she shoots an outline around them.

[anotheraccident]

Aurelia strides calmly into Moxxi’s, notices a certain Sir Hammerlock sliding off a stool, and panics as calmly as possible. 

Her smile twitches into an awkwardly wobbly line to match her internal screaming when she realizes - she’d seen a very familiar hat, too. 

“What are we doing?” Anberlin asks, but Aurelia takes her by the hood of her coat and wrenches the poor girl into a pile of soggy cardboard boxes and trash bags just as Sir Hammerlock steps outside. He glances sharply at the wiggling, noisy trash pile and decides it’s probably not worth the risk of being bitten again, so he keeps walking.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing!” Aurelia says cheerfully. “I was so sure she would be right here, in this pile of garbage specifically. How strange that she isn’t!”

Anberlin squints. Oh, well. Lady Hammerlock knows best as far as she’s concerned, even if bordering on eccentric.

They enter Moxxi’s again, and Aurelia seems more enthusiastic this time. She taps an enormous man on the shoulder, who stares through dark sunglasses and listens to her describe Nisha with little interest.

Anberlin actually manages to find the woman first. She pauses, watching her, then the skinny, faceless figure against the wall opposite. Isn’t that dangerous comes to mind, but she reminds herself that this is Pandora. Getting hit with a dart is probably more akin to a blessing.

“I’m certain the girl is here somewhere,” Aurelia says suddenly, leaning back against Anberlin with her arms crossed. “I just haven’t quite - Nisha!” She crows, right in Anberlin’s ear, and swoops past her to stand arms akimbo directly in Nisha’s line of sight. “You look…” she falters. “… Stunning, darling, as usual. I have a proposition for you! But before you decline, do tell me where you’ve bloody been for so long. I’ve heard some nasty little rumor that you had died, imagine! You, dying! Laughable, truly.”

Anberlin hangs back watching. She figures that Aurelia will introduce her when Aurelia wants, and that’s probably much better than interrupting. She shrugs at the figure now behind Aurelia.

How this ‘Nisha’ will be in any way helpful is beyond her, though. She isn’t a siren, and she looks more like a drunk. Anberlin’s mind wanders to the bandit she’d met not long before meeting Lady Hammerlock.

He was in a mask, like the figure at the dart board. But he was…

He was…

…Charming.

Dashing? Oh, dear.

The last thing she should do is find a bandit any sort of attractive. Anberlin twirls loose strands of red hair around her finger, idly daydreaming.

[anotheraccident]

@comebxckqueen

Aurelia had found her first, but Anberlin had recognized her. Lady Hammerlock, she’d exclaimed as a thoroughly popsicle’d bandit fell over at her feet. She was nothing less than shocked that the woman was real, standing in front of her, rescuing her to top it off. 

Oh, should I leave? Aurelia had asked.

Luckily, she hadn’t left. After an incident involving Anberlin’s phaseswap and an old Loaderbot, Aurelia decided two things. One, with the realization she had found a siren, and one she could use, Anberlin Parish was now under her care (and mentorship. Why not. The girl had a natural talent with a sniper rifle.) Two, with the realization that she had found a siren, Anberlin Parish needed a place to stay where she would be safe from those who would do her harm, preferably as little burden to Aurelia as possible (No offense, she’d said.)

The mother figures on Pandora were lacking considerably, but she felt the girl didn’t necessarily need a mother. No, she needed someone who saw reality as it was, who took life by the balls and twisted. Someone who wouldn’t be flustered by the girl’s silly charms or distracted by her many, many questions.

Naturally, she thought of Nisha.

“Are we going to meet the other sirens?” Anberlin whispers. She’s been re-dressed, very fashionable, but covered head-to-toe. A blue tattoo peeks beneath her glove, on her index finger.

“When you’re ready, Miss Parish, you will,” Aurelia answers brightly. She loves being cryptic. It tickles her to sound like an egomaniacal wise man.

Anberlin is less of a fan. She pulls her goggles up and takes a good look around them; Sanctuary is a technological marvel, if only because of its craftsmanship. It’s so rusty, yet it flies fine. Incredible, and so unlike anything back home.

“I know,” Aurelia says as she peeks around a dumpster, “it might not reach good noblewoman standards, but we, as a finer class, must make do with what we are given. My dear, this is your lesson one.” 

“Yes ma'am,” Anberlin answers, though she’s already developing a fondness for the town. “Forgive me - who, exactly, are we looking for, if we aren’t meeting the sirens?”

Aurelia waves a hand. “You’ll know when you see her, believe you me.”

[hellbound-heretic-blog]

[Roman lofts both brows, leaning forward with a chin in his palm and an elbow on his knee. He disregards her question, squinting slowly at her.] … Uhuh. What, then. Do you want to talk about boys, or work? Because I can do one or the other.

Or both.

[anotheraccident]

Work, Roman. [She makes a face at him.]

I don’t even like boys. [A pause.] I mean I - I don’t like any boys right now.

[hellbound-heretic-blog]

[When the journal is pulled from his hold, he defensively lifts his hands, primly crossing one leg over it’s opposite.] Well! Who said I was looking for scrawlings about boys? Here you are, assuming again. Do you know what assuming does, Anberlin?

[He smooths wrinkles out of his pants.] It makes an ass out of you and me. Anyhow, I actually came here to ask about a plausible tech upgrade. [Roman pokes her directly on the nose with a metal clawtip.] But, you know. Talking about boys is good, too.

[anotheraccident]

[Anberlin huffs, wrinkling up her nose.] Perhaps it’s worse knowing you’re more interested in my work than in my thoughts on boys! [She falters.] I mean, no, that’s flattering. But...but still!

[She waves a hand.] So what kind of upgrade?

[hellbound-heretic-blog]

[Roman rolls a screwdriver right off of her desk. Some things never change.]

I’m not taking sides, but I already did. 

[Slowly, he sticks a hand underneath her desk, searching for the journal.]

You’re starting to sound like you don’t like spending time with me anymore. I’m wounded.

[anotheraccident]

Well that’s something, I suppose. [Anberlin sighs, bending to pick up the screwdriver. His searching goes unnoticed until she rises and hits her head on the underside of her desk, spotting his arm.]

Hey-- [She snatches her journal in her free hand, hugging it close to her chest.] Maybe I would enjoy spending time with you if you wouldn’t constantly antagonize me! These are my notes, not my scrawlings about boys. I know what you’re looking for and you won’t find it in here.

Even the [she lowers her voice] bandits [and raises it again] don’t go combing through my notes and yet here you are, supposedly my very best friend, about to try, why - I’m feeling wounded myself!

[hellbound-heretic-blog]

Why not? I do it all the time.

[He rests his chin in his palm, leaning over Ana with an elbow propped on her desk.]

Handsome, huh.

[anotheraccident]

[She huffs indignantly.]

Somewhat handsome.

[Another pause, this time longer, and she scowls.] You’re distracting me! I’m making a crossbow. [She tucks her journal away under her desk and reaches for a half-sculpted stock and a hodgepodge of metal bits and pieces.]

You should distract Luka instead. We’re competing to make the best hand-held short-range weapon, and I’m not quite above cheating.

[anotheraccident]

hellbound-heretic:

Aw. Give him a chance. Like, you know. Nisha tried to hang me, but she’s great.

If it doesn’t work out, you can always get rid of him. I’d do it for you.

...Roman, I don’t think I’ll ever even see him again. Do you really think a thief will steal from the same person twice? That would be absolutely ridiculous. 

Besides, him being handsome hardly gives him chances in my book.

[Pauses.]

Not that he even was, anyway!

[anotheraccident]

[Obnoxious cheek smooch.] What are you writing.

[Eyes him, and slowly closes her journal.] I told you I keep a journal. I was writing about a man I met today who pried the toothpick out of the roof of my mouth. I thought he was a gentleman.

Then I found my money was missing.

[anotheraccident]

siren tattoos concept

[anotheraccident]

Journal 2

Some brute insisted I was drunk when I informed him scientific magic exists. I was so angry I bit into my sandwich without removing the toothpick and now my mouth won’t stop bleeding.

I have other things to worry about.

My ship was stolen just last night and I don’t know what I’ll do without it. Should I be surprised that I’m going to be stranded here for the rest of my life? Probably not. At least I met a nice gentleman who helped me remove the toothpick from the roof of my mouth.

[Scrawled furiously beneath the entry:]

He was not a gentleman!! He is easily worse than Lukas! I hate him!!

[anotheraccident]

Journal 1

I am cataloging these next few weeks, or however long it takes to retrieve my stolen goods, for posterity, and also in ink not because I am suspicious but because I happen to enjoy writing. When someone asks me why there was such a lengthy period of time in which I achieved very little progress I will show them this and the blame will hang not on my head but on fate.

My father says I should leave it alone because a ‘harebrained scheme’ isn’t worth my life. I disagree. The stone is no harebrained scheme or silly collector’s piece. It’s a key. Someone could argue that I shouldn’t mess with it if I don’t know what it’s even a key to and I have to disagree with them too, because that’s the point of discovery. I intend to retrieve my key and find what it opens, what it does, and if any of these rumors about it hold true. If they do I might sell it.

In the meantime I’ve met an interesting group of people who have given me a quaint half of a manageable workshop, which I quite appreciate even if my shop-mate is repugnant and incorrigible! I don’t intend on telling any of them about the key. I wouldn’t mind the help but I think it’s best if I lay low for a while.

[anotheraccident]

[anotheraccident]

⋉ artist ⋊

[anotheraccident]

⋉ artist ⋊

[anotheraccident]

⋉ artist ⋊