tools of creation

mistrust first impulses; they are nearly always good written by ned

[idlehvnds]

Malcolm 'Mal' Sterling -hugh dancy | 38, Forensics Specialist, Sector 6 | substance detection + enhanced tracking intro | threads

Alden Caraway -isaiah mustafa | 47, Director of Operations / Councillor, Sector 6 | human intro | threads

[idlehvnds]

starter — @all-cf-me (brom)

The faint but unmistakeable smell of blood reaches him first, cutting through the noise around him. It itches at a part of his psyche that he'd tucked away since things went back to 'normal', but he dismisses the sensation when he catches the more obvious (and less troublesome) markers of the approaching butcher. "Knocks," he lifts his glass, dark liquid swirling against a large orb of ice, "Enjoying yourself? You don't consider this particular choice distasteful, do you?" he asks, gesturing at his canine-shaped mask shielding the upper half of his face.

[idlehvnds]

starter — @ravasz (adam)

The furrow creased his brows as one of the men in a fox mask joined him at the bar. Alden had been quietly observing what appeared to be a group of them milling about the party for some time. A coordinated group costume wasn't all that strange, but the fact that each one seemed to be the exact same height and build struck him as at the very least interesting. "Alright, so is this some sort of elaborate performance art piece, or are you a family of quintuplets?" he asked plainly, neither accusation or amusement in his tone.

[idlehvnds]

starter — @buriedwithit (take your pick!)

"Thoughts on wolf mask speaking with lacy opera mask over there? About to fight or find a room together?"

[idlehvnds]

starter — @bitchtakes (issei)

"Sato, is it? Weapons department?" Alden asks in a low albeit friendly enough voice, tilting up the worn baseball cap he had pulled low over his brow. As the years continue to drag on, he finds that it becomes harder to keep track of names as well as he used to. Especially when the current context is much more distant from one he'd normally cross paths with others from Sector 6. No, today he finds himself in line for food as the evening's musical guest tunes their instruments ahead of their performance. "Try to keep a low profile when I don't have an active security detail," he explains simply before readjusting his cap.

[idlehvnds]

starter — @ofruinations (adonis)

The glow of lights is a welcome sight, dotting the sky and casting a warmth across the horizon, washing out the usual dull haze of the city. The boardroom of the council building is often deserted this time of night, but he isn't surprised to find he wasn't the only one to think of its vantage point for the lantern ceremony. "Quite the view, isn't it, doctor?" Alden asks, hovering in the open doorway.

[idlehvnds]

starter — @all-cf-me (dodge)

"Easy, Ramsay," the voice comes gently but firm, a tone that carries equal parts familiarity and formality. Alden sidles up alongside Dodge, tucking his hands into his pockets as he turns his gaze to survey the scene, paralleling the bodyguard's. "I'll remind you that you're not responsible for me tonight."

[idlehvnds]

⸻ ( isaiah mustafa, 47, cis man, he/him ) — Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, you’ll find that ALDEN CARAWAY  is a DIRECTOR OF OPERATIONS / COUNCILLOR that works in SECTOR 6. That must be why they’re PROTECTIVE and UNYIELDING. If you ask me, they remind me of the sound of a desk lamp in the late hours, the steadying grip of a hand on your shoulder, and old scars faded with time. They are affiliated with THE COUNCIL.

TASK 001 [ adapted ]

the basics

character name: alden caraway nicknames: none birthday: january 10 age: 47 gender, pronouns: cis man, he/him sexuality: bisexual, demi-romantic ethnicity / race: black (unknown african descent) languages spoken: english mutation status: none occupation: director of operations work sector: six (security) affiliation: the council (councillor) relationship status: single religious beliefs: none

personality

MBTI: ESTJ Temperament: sanguine Element: metal 3 positive traits: protective, diligent, principled 3 negative traits: unyielding, obsessive, guarded moral alignment: neutral good zodiac: capricorn sun, leo rising, taurus moon

appearance

Faceclaim: isaiah mustafa Height: 6′4 / 192cm Weight: 244lbs / 110.7kg Build: muscled, but less lean than he used to be Eye colour: dark brown Hair colour/type: black, buzzed or tightly cropped Distinguishing features: short beard; sharp work attire, leather jacket outside of work; when the radiation is especially high, he sometimes uses a bionic knee brace to minimize a limp that may flare up, but he often goes without it. Speech patterns/accent: australian english

biography

pending

questionnaire

how do they feel about living in sol city? have they always lived there or did they travel from another settlement?

Alden arrived in Sol city as a child, the closest thing to a military brat one could be in the new world order. His father was a skilled salvager and provided muscle for security sectors at three settlements before they arrived in Sol. Over the past 40-odd years, Alden has carved out his own space and reputation here and considers it home.

do they trust the council’s leadership? why or why not?

Since being elected councillor, Alden has grown to trust what it stands for. His previous opinions and ideas on how leadership makes decisions in a place as complicated as Sol has given way to a- sometimes begrudging, understanding that certain things need to be done in ways that are suboptimal. That isn't to say he doesn't push the envelope (and buttons of some of his fellow councillors) when he's feeling particularly adamant, but he's honed his ability to pick his battles.

if they chose their sector and profession, why did they make that choice? if they didn’t, why not? were they happy with their assignment or not?

It wasn't so much of a choice, as a duty. The training began when he was young, and it built him into an indispensable force, first in salvaging then as a combat specialist in Sector 6. There were whispers at first that his father had pulled some strings to get him reassigned, but it soon became clear that his skills in hand-to-hand combat spoke for themselves. After years in active duty, he was injured during a clash in the wastelands that left him with a temperamental knee and a failed psychiatric evaluation. He was assigned to desk duties soon after, managing teams, planning missions, and providing training on occasion. He was thankful to find he had a mind for overseeing operations, especially after his years spent with multiple teams in Sector 6. Before long, he proved to be just as an effective tactical asset to the sector as he was a practical one. When the previous councillor chose to retire from the role, it wasn't hard to be convinced to run on a campaign built upon his years of service to Sol city as well as the council.

what’s one object that they always keep on their person?

His father's watch, weathered black leather band and ancient mechanisms painstakingly repaired countless times, but still ticking.

[all-cf-me]

Seth recognizes instantly the silent war Mal wages against his own body: he's seen the same thing in Alvie, stuck standing on the welcome mat, pouting and cussing while Seth or Max (or both) snicker just inside. His suspicions are confirmed as Mal pushes his tongue into one of his elongated canines, and even if he doesn't intend the gesture to be suggestive, it brings a wry, interested grin stretching across Seth's gaunt features anyway.

"No fucking way." He can't hide the amusement in his little chuckle, despite Mal's obvious misery. Seth lets a beat pass with the toe of his boots aligned with Malcolm's, almost as if he's considering exercising a little cruel fun while he has the opportunity, but in the end he steps aside. "Well then, Mr. Sterling, consider yourself formally invited into the office of Seth Van Meter," he announces with a bow, complete with a swinging gesture of his arm. "I do hope you enjoy your stay."

Seth turns away, hoping Mal follows as he goes to a set of small couches in the office's corner and flops down onto one of them. "How do you know anything's happened to me?" he asks with a tinge of playfulness. "Maybe I'm the one asshole this thing skipped, huh?"

[idlehvnds]

"Well I'm glad someone's enjoying this, because I certainly am not," he keeps from rolling his eyes, if only to get a clearer look at Seth's current state. He achess to have his abilities back, to be able to smell what's out of place in the office he knows so well. But now all he can sense is the blood running through Seth's veins and the rhythm of his heartbeat, which... also seems different. Is it faster?

The thought slips away when the invitation dissipates whatever forces blocked the doorway, and a tired breath leaves him. There's a beat before Mal follows, not quite making it to one of the seats opposite the couch. "You'd be in far worse a mood if you were left out of all the fun," he remarks plainly, only the last word carrying a kind of bitterness. "No, you've got something up your sleeve, but I'm guessing you're enjoying having another secret to add to your collection. Lucky for you, I have more pressing matters at hand than to get up in your business today." He runs a somewhat clammy hand through his hair, feeling his thirst grow steadily by the minute. He hates to be adding more things to his Van Meter tab... but desperate times.

"I need your help- again, this time I'm looking for a body. A warm one, if you catch my drift."

[buriedwithit]

he can tell, plain as day, that malcolm is displeased by something. max has half a mind to take it personally, but given the circumstances, he couldn't have blamed him for it if he tried. self-focused as always, it's more difficult to consider that there might be compounding factors, less of what have to do with the teddy bear costume he's been glued into and more to do with the city's collective situation... all too much for a simple creature to digest. "back? you mean, like... you're going to leave me here?" eyes widening for a maximum cuteness overdrive, the idea alone is almost enough to send him into a panic. he might just start chewing on furniture! and then where will they be? sniffling, he adds, "i'm glad you're amused. woodland creature. i'm a smelly little beast!" another sniffle. "what do you mean, dead? undead? whatever."

[idlehvnds]

"I'll go later," he sighs, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Max's usual ability to compel people to take his side has seemingly taken on a new edge, one that Mal would call adorable if he didn't have so many conflicting feelings about the situation. "I can't bring you and risk compromising you as a source." He drops his hands as an idea strikes, turning a narrowed gaze to the furry creature in his living room. "Unless... how many people know you're like this right now?"

Another sigh comes, this time edging closer to a groan, "You're in the company of Sol City's newest vampire." He waves his hands with a lacklustre flourish, "Woke up with the teeth, claws and this pounding headache, I assume much like how you woke up like... this."

[all-cf-me]

From out of the office comes a hollow, plasticky sound: a waste bin, set onto the floor and kicked back under the desk. Seth sits up in his chair with a little groan, wiping a bit of fluid from the corner of his mouth before turning his attention to the figure lurking in his doorway. "Mr. Sterling!" he announces, and though he makes an attempt at his normal level of casual amiability, it falls short. Seth sounds distracted, flat, as if he won't really focus until the conversation takes one particular turn... the things in him itch and coil, clambering up over one another in a ruthless bid to be next.

"You know you're always welcome here, boss... You look good, you do something different with your hair? New coat, maybe?" The word-vomit is at least authentic as Seth approaches in his loose-limbed way, looking his visitor slowly from head to toe. There's something different about Malcolm, too... it seems that no one in the city has escaped this strange turn of events. A concerned squint tints Seth's expression. "Something wrong?"

[idlehvnds]

Mal leans forward, but his limbs fail to push past the threshold of the office space, muscles seizing at the attempt to enter uninvited. He takes a half-step back with a unenthused grunt. "Nothing as simple as that, Van Meter."

He watches as Seth lumbers closer, mirroring the way he inspects him with a brief scan of his own. There's something about the way he's carrying himself, the usual sly air about him that oozes from his pores replaced with something else, lingering in his movements and the sweat on his brow that smells, something out of of place. "I'd say wrong is underselling it. Can't seem to enter spaces without explicit invitation," he explains, before tonguing at the point of his canine. The gesture would be suggestive in any other circumstance, but in this instance, it's more informative than anything else. "I didn't even get the joy of being bitten to end up like this."

"What's happened to you?"

[buriedwithit]

sniffling pathetically, max slips through the front door. careful. yeah, right. the only thing he has going for himself right now is that he isn't dependent on his coolant, but he almost wishes that he was. at least then he wouldn't have to grovel for someone's feet to be put out of his misery. it all feels like some horrible nightmare... "what are we supposed to do?" he asks, cynical. shaking his head, he adds, "what's wrong with you, anyway?" sniffling again, he reaches to wipe at his widdle bear nose. "i mean, you smell kinda weird—um, no offense—but everything smells weird. i hate this!"

[idlehvnds]

As Max slumps his way past the threshold, Mal can't help but pinch the bridge of his nose in a feeble attempt to stem the pressure building behind his eyes. He didn't think the circumstances could get worse, but somehow... things are worse. His contractor, the flirty barkeep at the Lady that few could keep their eyes off of turned bedfellow has now become an animated children's toy. And worse yet, he's still so thirsty.

"I don't know yet," Mal grits out with a sigh, pushing the door closed with his back. "I should get to Sector 6 and see if anyone has any leads - this can't be permanent."

Mal's eyes, thin rings of cool green around black in the dim lighting, settle on the small bear before him. Tired lines crease his face as he brandishes his hands, fingers ending in sharp points, and speaking around the edges his teeth. "While you're stuck as a woodland creature, I'm dead now. Or - undead, I suppose, by certain historical accounts. Depends who you ask."

[lolipopchainscw]

"Well, you've definitely got the vampiric politeness down," he says, leaning against the doorframe. He holds a thick folder outside of the threshold. The warm scent of spices and fried oils waft from the paper. "I'd say it suits you," he says. "Unfortunately, I read the files. I get the idea you aren't a happy camper. Come on in, let's get you something to eat before you kill someone."

[idlehvnds]

"So you think I'm normally impolite?" he asks, brow lifting as a familiar sense of playfulness peeks out from a haze of dulled emotions. He takes the folder and scans the labels out of habit, though his mind is more pre-occupied with the sound of Gilbert's heartbeat.

"How anyone in this position keeps from going completely feral is nothing short of a miracle," he remarks before the invitation ignites something in his chest that he's quick to stifle. "At least someone's in high spirits. Not that that's out of the ordinary. Smells like you're cooking up quite the feast." As if any of the dishes - certainly delicious by any human standards - are of any interest to him right now.

[idlehvnds]

starter — @all-cf-me (seth)

Something's... off. And not in the same way Mal has gotten accustomed to - the cocktail of medications running through Seth's veins now replaced with something else. He doesn't like it.

The winding route through the bar was a test of willpower against the chorus of heartbeats and thrumming arteries. He was hoping Seth could be of some help directly, but with whatever's changed him, the investigator now has second thoughts. "Can I... come in?" he asks carefully, hovering in the doorway of Seth's office.

[buriedwithit]

"don't remind me, please," he groans, picking himself up enough to crawl across the floor. he doesn't notice anything immediately different about mal, but he's not really looking. it's good news to hear a warning. "oh, good. are you dangerous?" there's desperation in his tone, unmatched for a long time. "i really could use a good knockout. what's wrong with you? you want to cut me up? or throw me across the room? fuck it, kill me!" little bear hands clutching at malcolm's trousers, he cries, "i don't want to live like this!"

[idlehvnds]

Mal begins to lean back, but Max has already scrambled over and latched onto his leg. He looks up as if there's an answer written in the ceiling and takes an attempt at a steadying breath. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

His hands flex open and closed, nails cutting slightly into the flesh of his palms, but the pain is nearly imperceptible behind the headache behind his eyes. "You have to be more careful about what you ask for, Max. Just-" he sighs, gritting his teeth, "Get inside. Maybe we can figure out what's going on."

[idlehvnds]

starter — @lolipopchainscw (gil)

"Please excuse the appearance," a half-hearted gesture at his distended canines, clawed fingers, and a general pallor. "You're also going to have to invite me inside, from what I understand."

[buriedwithit]

starter for @idlehvnds !! ( mal )

"...sorry," he mumbles as soon as the door swings open... from the outside, that is. he's been curled up on the floor waiting. "i didn't know where else to go."

[idlehvnds]

A scent reaches him as he's about the open his apartment door that gives him pause, something familiar, but different. The furry form curled on his welcome mat brings a vague sense of confusion above anything else. "Who..."

"Max?" his voice is soft as he kneels at the threshold, clawed hands hovering over the figure, "Max... is that you?" The words stretch uncomfortably around his newfound canine teeth as a coil of hunger stirs in his stomach. "I don't think it's safe for you here Max. Not with what's happened to me."