#blueskiesrp

[gloriousxdarkness]

THE MUMMY (1999) // accepting // @thatslayer sent (fondly) — "you are a catastrophe!"

A few evenings after the Apollo fiasco, Elektra's back in Harlem to stand in Faith's doorway, ridiculously overstuffed and overdressed. Parcels of steaming Chinese food balance on one arm while she cradles a bottle-shaped paper bag in the other. A large purse with records poking out of it hangs from her elbow.

A smile pulls easily at the honorific catastrophe. "And yet, you keep opening the door." The smile ticks a smidge wider in one corner, tasting potential. "Would you believe it? I've been stood up."

[gloriousxdarkness]

continued from (x) ¦ @youweremythtaken

Elektra hides a smirky smile at Buffy's only too-accurate assessment, turning her face towards a crowded assortment of talismans and cheap saint statues. Her fingers brush noncommittally along strings of beads as she steps slowly down a tight aisle. The faded sign outside the shop advertises curiosities, charms, spiritual supplies...

Harlem is certainly close enough to Columbia to pass this run-in off as pure happenstance, in her opinion.

"Is that what you call it, keeping the sky from falling?" The smile lingers when she looks over, because Buffy's swing dance suggestion actually sounds rather fun. "Difficult work, even with your 'group'?"

[gloriousxdarkness]

Bloody Blood Memes // accepting // @thatslayer sent — [sigh] " what did you do? "

Black doesn't show blood. Not unless you look closely, and no one did on her way to Faith's. But to those more experienced with it, even a subtle smell draws the eyes to search for the source; damp glints on the black. Elektra stands a bit stiff. Might be the cold. Her head ticks for a second, almost apologetically. "I need to come in."

[gloriousxdarkness]

BULLET TRAIN // accepting // @thatslayer​​​ sent —  ❛ what's the catch? there's always a catch. ❜

     “You know, you might try trusting me,” but there’s something pleased in her tone. Feels like Faith is catching on. She’s chased Faith on a couple of misadventures so far, and it would be completely out of form not to return the favor. “Don’t tell me you have somewhere to be,” Elektra turns on her heel to walk backwards and eyes Faith playfully. “Even if you do. Give the poor asthmatic young man a breather tonight, won’t you?” 

[gloriousxdarkness]

starter for @thatslayer​ <3

     She moves silent out of her uncle’s hotel apartment, the mustachioed beast snoring a whole wing and a floor behind her regardless, and pays the doorman on the way out to keep hush. The late night and the city’s quiet hour are both friends to walk with, warm and secretive and promising to be the pinnacle of her week. Well, a smiling thought interrupts, there have been other highs too, to leave her buoyant.

     Elektra’s eager and quick to meet Faith at the far edge of a church graveyard, where supposed holy ground becomes secular concrete in the flash of an iron fence. “You don’t seem to sleep much, do you?” she teases, already lit from within. Doesn’t matter what they’re doing, really, she’s already feeling far more alive than sitting in a classroom.

[thatslayer]

@timemovesonandon gets a plotted starter for STEVE ;;

"Say that like I got a choice." the platform's empty, too early for most folks but Faith's just coming off a shift, busting vampire chops after hours at Coney Island. Waiting for the D train, because like hell she's gonna walk after a night like that. She sits at the bottom of the stairs, watching the rails now and then because she's been ambushed here, before. Gotta stay on guard. Faith glances up at Steve, leans back against the step behind her, "I was born to this life, but you don't need to back me up if it's puttin' a kink in your line, you know? Not gonna hold it against you."



[thatslayer]

So, nachos were invented in 1940. If you're just tuning in, that means Faith can call Elektra, 'Nachos' in our 1940s verse. You're welcome, @gloriousxdarkness

[gloriousxdarkness]

blue skies starter for @devilmasked

     She isn’t waiting for him, that would be absurd. They barely know each other. It’s a matter of coincidence the patch of late-summer warmth near the university green Elektra’s enjoying happens to be located on the way to Matt Murdock’s last class of the day. One would need access to his schedule for that information, which is obviously kept private.

    She’s merely chatting to some new classmates of her own, as any college student ought to during the first week of the semester, having a stroll a little ways from Barnard’s. If her eyes glance eagerly up the path every few seconds or her ears prick for scraping sound on concrete, well, that’s no one’s business. Elektra may be toying with her own curiosity again, though— perceptive, isn’t he? Let’s see.