Name: Astrid Montilla
Age / D.O.B.: 28 / December 17th, 1995
Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: GNC, She/her, & Asexual Biromantic
Hometown: Bronx, NYC
Affiliation: The Cortázar Cartel
Job position: Driver for the Cortázars, owner of a small tabletop and trading card game shop called The Dice Gremlin
Education: High school graduate, completed two semesters of community college and dropped out
Relationship status: Single
Children: None
Positive traits: imaginative, quirky, curious, organized, uninhibited
Negative traits: impulsive, rowdy, temperamental, melodramatic, gossipy
— BIOGRAPHY
Her half-brother had always told her that she wasn’t cut out for the life he led, that it wasn’t glamorous and exciting like Astrid seemed to think when she was younger. Their parents were gone, though, so for a while it was only them - and the Cartel became more like a second family to her, much to her brother’s dismay. For as long as she could remember, it was ‘don’t follow in my footsteps. focus on your stories. get your schoolwork done.’ And she listened. For a while.
Astrid finished high school, with slightly above average marks, but by the time college rolled around, she was just burnt out. Nothing about school appealed to her anymore, and she was increasingly worried about the mess her brother was getting in. He’d come home too tired, too high, too bloody, and leave again in the middle of the night while she was sleeping. Every moment she set aside to talk to him, he’d blow it off. And he wasn’t bringing home anymore money.
One day, he just never came home. Missing is what the official call was. Presumed dead, but they never found a body.
She dropped out of classes the day she got the news, and threw herself into odd job after odd job. Often, that meant being put behind the wheel while some of her and her brother’s friends did drug runs or robbed a bodega. Stupid, sure, but she was getting a cut of the money and that helped pay the rent.
Her day job chipped away at the rest of the bills - and it was her original dream before she fell in with the exact crowd that her brother wanted her to stay away from. Her friend owned The Dice Gremlin before they sold it to her for practical pennies, saying it was useless. Back then, it was nothing more than a shitty hole in the wall place for them and their friends to get drunk and trash it.
She split the time between cleaning it up for some of the kids in the neighborhood to come and get away from all the shit life wanted to throw at them, and her nights were filled with high speed and adrenaline, whooping yells into the night sky while she embraced a life that maybe was always meant to be her destiny.
Astrid doesn’t regret falling in with the Cartel, though, and honestly loves the life - as hard as it can be - which is precisely why she thinks her brother never wanted it for her.
There’s still a prickly feeling in the back of her mind on the day to day, though, always wondering what had really happened to her brother eight years ago. She doesn’t have the resources, or the smarts, to pour any of that into an investigation of her own- but she’s increasingly more suspicious as time passes.
— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS
FRIENDS OF HER BROTHERS; She fell in hard with this group after her brother went missing. They’re also all Cartel and are the ones that got Astrid in.
CUSTOMERS; Regulars who stop by The Dice Gremlin for themselves or people in their lives who enjoy that sort of thing.
ROOMMATES/NEIGHBORS; What it says on the tin!
ENEMIES IN ARMS; Someone she has to work with in the Cartel, but they don’t get along for whatever reason. Maybe there’s a botched job in their past or future.
MENTOR; Either in the Cartel or out of it, someone she looks up to and helps her navigate life now that most of her family is gone.
"Not if you're the one asking." Andrea isn't sharp in her answer, she waves a dismissive hand in the air -- mostly because she doesn't have the slightest idea what bardcore is, but she does know none of them should be making any requests tonight.
There's something in the air... She looks back at the group that walks past them. "Yes. Watch." She confirms with a nod -- a nervous one, at that. "Where's the rest of us, eh?"
Her lips twist together, a little more uncomfortable but - eh, she gets the edge of it all. Astrid's arms cross over her chest, and she follows Andrea's nervous gaze. She's not the type to try and distract her or get her attention, but -- Might as well try. "I haven't run into anybody yet, really. Are you, uh, are you good? You got your head on a swivel."
A CHOKED, AMUSED LITTLE NOISE–-makes the bee-antennae headband move, bright yellow pom-poms bounce, “–-bardcore?” he intones, a little incredulous, “like, ye ol’ pub music or…?” doesn’t wait for an answer, adjourns his question with an affirming nod; then light eyes follow her gesture, gain a knowing glint, “y’think? might be safer to watch from a distance,”
"Not necessarily ye olde -- but like, in the style of ye olde, ya know? Ya feel?" She grins widely, lifting her drink to her lips with a dumb little chuckle. The armor she's wearing clinks with the movement, very much looking the part of someone who might listen to that style of music. "Oh, come on - don't you like a little violence?"
"You think they'll play bardcore if I ask?" Astrid lets out a soft giggle into her cup, shaking her head. She's not being serious, but the thought of all these people getting down to a medieval rendition of Padam Padam is almost too much for her. She clears her throat, and gestures over to a group of people whispering in hushed tones. "On a more serious note, it looks like that's about to get heated. Wanna go watch?"
"I don't know about ask, but if paid," he raises his brows, suggestive. Everything and everyone has a price, and he's more than fucking willing to spend good money on making it happen. "We would immediately know who here plays Dungeons and Dragons, and who is boring as all hell." His attention whips right over as he is bid to, a moments consideration taken first. "Alternative: bad lip reading."
"God, ain't that the damn truth?" She laughs at his suggestion, and gestures over to the person - there's one animated woman yelling at a man who simply just seems to be embodying a standing person emoji. She's about to open her mouth to say something completely stupid before she catches the eye of someone who motions for her to head down. "Y'know maybe next time? I gotta take care of something."
"To be honest I don't know what that is," Ember told her. She had her drink in hand but was occasionally sipping at it. She was all eye peeled for now but she was aiming to have fun. "I love a good fight. Why not? Sounds like a party."
"Not many people do, my friend. That's part of the fun of mentioning it." Astrid grins widely, too amused to really try and explain, but hey - if they're gonna go watch a fight why not? She leads Ember over towards an area where they can listen. "It got super heated a bit ago, I dunno if it's gonna be entertaining in the least."
Arman didn't know many people in the city, but it always surprised him when that didn't stop others from conversing with him. It was nice. People were friendly, and he was never one to turn down friendly. So with a grin, he turned to the woman on his right and immediately nodded his head.
"Oh absolutely. Buzz Lightyear looks like he's ready to throw an uppercut." He grinned at the prospect before furrowing his brows. "And maybe on our way there you can tell me what bardcore is."
Astrid's eyes light up with the prospect of being able to basically eavesdrop on what might be a very private conversation. "Buzz may have it in the bag, but I think Bo Peep over there has some righteous fury about to come out. I bet she's got a heck of a swing." But she nods over to a more accessible spot to listen in on- never stopping her rambling all the while. "Bardcore is like.. a micro music genre, you know? It's like medieval inspired song covers of popular shit. There's a pretty fun following with it in the TTRPG community. You ever played any of those?"
gaze follows her direction, noting the palpable tension slowly reaching them by the second. it makes him laugh, quiet and airy, as he shakes his head. “ no, no. i’ll have to pass. keep me far away from anyone with that much ire on a tuesday night. ” it was only a tuesday! “ who’s bardcore? do they have any songs i’ll know? ”
"Ahhh, fair, fair. A bit lame, but fair." She laughs it out, though, not really minding if James doesn't want to indulge her bit of weirdness for the night. "I can't imagine they'll keep it contained though. Those kind of things?" Astrid makes a motion with her hands and a small 'pew' sound. "Explodey. But bardcore's a genre, my man! They cover hits with like lutes and mandolins and shit."
"If you don't ask, I sure as shit will. I mean, something needs to liven up the vibes, and what better than a bardcore version of Hips Don't Lie to do it?" It's not the first time Silas has tried to hijack the DJ's job and it certainly wouldn't be the last, finding his very own amusement at the idea. A glance is spared towards the aforementioned group before he shrugs, eventually nodding. "Sure but we're keeping a safe distance. Last time I watched shit like this go down, I got dragged into it and I'm not messing up my hair tonight." As if anything could disturb the Aqua Net resting in his hair at this moment.
"You fuckin' for real know what I'm talking about? God, I love this city. All types." She's genuinely stoked about the idea of someone actually getting her weird ass references and the idea of all of them jamming out to some Hildegard von Blingin' amuses her to no end. But she turned her attention to the others, her grin turning a bit more feral. "Hell yeah. I think I heard something about that guy fucking his girlfriend's brother or her dad? Messy, messy."
"You think they'll play bardcore if I ask?" Astrid lets out a soft giggle into her cup, shaking her head. She's not being serious, but the thought of all these people getting down to a medieval rendition of Padam Padam is almost too much for her. She clears her throat, and gestures over to a group of people whispering in hushed tones. "On a more serious note, it looks like that's about to get heated. Wanna go watch?"
Mars leans back on the bench as Zach gets the attention he so desperately wants - little butt wagging back and forth. He's eager but not overly jumpy, just excitable as he looks up at her with his milky eyes. "He's 8, but he's got plenty of life left in 'em. Well, I mean I hope so." The thought of losing his new best friend so quickly is not welcome in his mind and he shoves that away. Mars watches the cocker spaniel seem placated by the sweet talk, snuffling at her hand and sitting his cute face between them. "Alright, Zach? You done? We don't want to block up the pathway." He grins. "I uh. Just adopted him, actually. First dog."
"Definitely looks like it." She laughs, scratching below Zach's chin while looking up at Mars. When she notices they're sort of in the way, she slides out of the way to allow people to pass by them - reluctantly stopping her petting of the cute little dog. "Yeah? Your first one? Ever been around people with dogs before? Cause they're a trip."
The cocker spaniel at Mars' feet has clearly had enough walking - and he shows it by sitting his butt down every two seconds, making his owner stop in his tracks multiple times. "Oi, alright, alright! Looks like we're taking a breather, that what you want?" He's still getting used to this whole thing. Having a dog... more days off... and he sits himself down on a bench as someone comes up. "Zach, c'mere mate. You don't need to hog up the whole damn pathway, do you?" The dog is quick to pick up his ass from the path to go greet them. "He's friendly. Just geriatric. He and I got that in common."
Getting out of the store was a welcome reprieve, but it was also -- boring. Ahead, she saw the overly friendly, overly tired dog and was content to laugh from afar until she realized she was gaining on them with her leisurely pace and the stop-start. At the final stop, Astrid realizes she's right at them and laughs out loud at the 'geriatric' bit, but still leans down to pet it. "Aw, nah, you're not nearly as old as this little thing." She cups his face-- hell, she's overly friendly herself. "Look at these grays. And those cataracts."
james nods, earnest. “ good, good. ” he sticks out like a sore thumb but shows no signs of acknowledging it. sure, it’s a different way of living, he isn’t confident that he could persevere with the same kind of goal, but it’s respectable. though he’ll laugh, internally, only to himself, at the styrofoam cup in his hand and makes a mental note to send her a set of mugs and a coffee machine.
“ i do,” he says, and takes a sip of coffee. then, the laugh spills outwards. “ this isn’t too bad! ” he grabs the pot of coffee, briefly inspecting the label. it wasn’t the worst coffee he’s ever had but it was still awful. “ i thought you’d like to hear how i’m doing first but we can get straight into it, ” he teases. “ so, due diligence has come back, and the news has already reached the board. they're pushing back, and what they're saying is they can't in good conscious not revoke the grant, if your brother was a member of a gang. " a pause. " there's only so much convincing i can do-" the only way to fight bad press was by spinning it back the other way, "—so i’m here to ask if you’ll consider making a statement. ”
All she can do is shrug. It's okay coffee at best, gets her through the day when she needs it. But she does grin a bit wider as he teases her. "If you wanna tell me how your life is going, I'm all ears my friend."
But as she slides into the seat and gets as comfortable as she can on the plastic, she leans forward on the table to pay attention as best as she can. A lot of it scrambles in her brain, but she's trying. "Right. Right, what kind of statement would I have to make? A lie, I'm guessing?" It feels slimy, at best, but.. her other extracurricular activities aren't much better.
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"I love this pal o' mine. They're the one who helps me outta my head and having a good time over anything, especially when I start to get too deep in the depressi."
She’s surprised herself playing the same game a few times, now. Glancing at strangers in strange, dark places, wondering what tragedy they’ve gone through, what keeps them up at night; what digs and gnaws its teeth and claws in them like some strarved animal, scratching to get out. It's not a sad thought, though, not really; most of the time, it's just a game to keep herself from sinking into the darkness of her own secrets, the things that claw at her, won't let her sleep. A pastime, if you will. Some people look at what others wear, what they eat, what they do; how expensive their clothes are, wonder where they’ve gotten them, always judging, always feeling above all others. Yen looks at people’s eyes and wonders what have made them dark and deep with misery.
This night, too, sat amidst strangers, here, in some dark bar in downtown New York, the game is proving to be rather entertaining (a deeply longed for distraction). Pubs like this, where the smoke is so thick you can drink it, crawl with tragedies. Soon enough, she realizes she’s been staring — with a cough, she violently pries her eyes (one blue, one green flecked with blue) off the stranger and reaches for her cigarettes. Her mouth is stained red, cherries and rouge lipstick. Her dark curls cascade down her back, long and dappled in the red neon lights that spill off the sign hung above the bar. She is toying with her glass, and even though it's hot where she's sitting at the bar, she still hasn't taken her leather jacket off.
These days, Astrid needed more and more time away from it all -- Not because of anyone, or the fault of anyone else, but her own disastrous thoughts plagued her more often than not. Hence, the bar. Hence, the drink in hand.
She catches the woman staring ( though, not at her ), and is intrigued by the intensity of it. Any other night, she'd let it go but she needs the distraction of conversation. So she slides up next to her and gestures to the stranger, "You know 'em?"
a curious gaze looks over at the customers and notices a couple who look like they're on their first date. interesting -- he didn't quite get it, but whatever works for them. " let's go in the back, " he says, then with a nod gestures towards the couple, then lowers his voice to say, " wouldn't want to get in the way of true love. "
he lets her lead the way, though it does play on his mind that what he is here to talk about may be easier if he was picking up the bill at the end of it. the conversation was going to be hard to navigate, but it was going to be even harder over instant coffee. " so, how have you been? business going well? "
That makes her crack a more relaxed smile as she looks towards the couple. She'd seen them here separately a few times. But she gestures with a quick head nod towards the back, and then leads James there - It's nothing more than a small storeroom and a break area with a coffee pot and microwave.
She wastes no time in pouring them both a styrofoam cup full of cheap coffee. "I've been alright." With a shrug. "It's going, breaking even most of the time - keeping the lights on. That's really all I can ask for." It's just small talk and she sits down at the tiny table there, shoulders already bunching up. "I'm guessing you got news?"
