#february 2017.

[stinkbrat]

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@opheliaavery;continued from [X]

What he was doing was dangerous -- in more ways than one. For starters, fraternization with potential witnesses? Never looked good in a cops jacket. And he was fairly certain he was already hanging into his job at the ICC by the skin of his teeth. Practically speaking, dangerous took on an all too real shape in his,world. With Genovese on the loose, and with a pretty big grudge to bear... well, the memories of what he had done to Annika, to Shari, the images of Anika in the alleyway, the memories of watching over Shari in her near comatose state, clinging to life out of sheer willpower after the damage done... they were all too fresh. All too vivid. 

 His right hand, still leather clad, clenched briefly at his side - as much so as was possible, a faint grimace following the unconscious gesture. He glanced down towards Ophelia as she spoke, a small and rueful smile drifting over his features. "You learn pretty quickly in my line of work that could... and should are two very different beasts," he said, a small shake of his head following. "And my life isn't exactly conducive to long walks on the beach," he added with a faint smirk. "It's a nice thought, though," he admitted, pulling his eyes away from her and out towards the slow, undulating waves that beat against the sand.

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@opheliaavery liked [x] for a short starter from Carl Hickman.

         “I, uh - I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, Ms. --?”  His left hand, the one not bound snugly in a soft leather glove, slid into his back pocket to show her the identification that declared him to be an authentic member of the International Crime Unit investigation team, picture and name complete.  “My name is Detective Hickman, my team and I are investigating the break-in a few rooms down and we’re canvassing the area to see if anyone saw or hear something that might be of value to the case while the memories are fresh, easily accessible.”

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@theblueeyedvampire gets a beauty & the beast crime boss / ceo au starter

          Numbness was creeping, still, through her thoughts, through her limbs as she struggled to process the words that had left her father’s lips.  She could feel the pounding of her heart, too fast, too random, lurching between her rib cage and her stomach, butterflies twisting her stomach into knots.  Her lips were dry, instantly; a hand reached up to press fingertips briefly against her lower lip, as if to confirm the thought - how could she trust her senses, how could she trust anything when ...  Her hand fell towards her chest, curled inwards, index finger and thumb pressed against the hollow at the base of her throat as if to remind herself to breathe.  “Father, I don’t --”  Her voice was weak, trembling, and she hated it -- hated herself for that weakness here and now.  

      A slow, intentional breath was drawn in, a sharp swallow of her throat as her doe brown eyes flickered back and forth between her father and the stranger.  Was this some ... horribly distasteful joke?  It had to be, and yet, she could read the guilt, the pain... the flush of shame on her father’s cheeks as clearly as she could read the black and white on the pages of the books she loved so much.  “You, sir --”  There was a glimmer of something, of heat that burned low, dull beneath the shock.  “You would -- barter --- a child’s life to ensure a debt repaid?”  It was easier... easier to imagine her anger and pain directed towards this stranger, than to grasp the fact that her father would have agreed to such a thing -- would have agreed to let this ... creature take her away, to hold her in leverage to ensure that her father’s debts -- would be repaid.  “What sort of man are you?”

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@heirexss liked [X] for a short starter from Bane.  (continuing along the lines of the plot we had where he kidnapped her for leverage against Batman and is currently keeping watch over her because he does not trust anyone else to do so without applying unnecessary duress)

The blows were swift, sure and powerful - more so than could be possible by any normal man (but then they lived in the world of the extraordinary and the corrupted).  The hand that Bane held in his, obtained by passing through the men and offering short, assuring handshakes, was clenched tight, the sounds of shattering, crunching bones audible, even before Bane pulled the man down, off balance by his injured hand; a punch with his other hand, no holds barred, left the man gagging, his throat dented inwards, and then with a solid impacting sound, his head was slammed into Bane’s armored knee.  He dropped, instantly.  Dead or alive, Bane did not know, nor did he care.  “No one.”  His voice bellowed, carrying easily through the underground caverns and tunnels beneath Gotham.  “No.  One. Is to lay a hand on this hostage, or any other, without the express permission of myself, or our Great Leader.”   

His eyes traveled the crowd, his bloody hand pointing in the direction of the dark haired woman behind him.  “Is this understood?”  He demanded, his voice loud, bouncing off of the walls and seeming to come from every direction at once.  A hurried stream of shouts, of acknowledgments followed, lasting a good forty five seconds to a minute before he seemed to have heard enough.  He turned, then, taking a few steps back along the way that he had come, his gaze meeting hers.  “Do you believe me now, when I say no one here will touch you again?”

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⭐️

Headcanon for our muses:  I went with just Alice and Claire for this one:

Alice rarely sleeps. She’ll curl up with Claire until Claire falls asleep and she can safely extricate herself.  She’ll take an extra shift or just walk the edge of where they’re camped out.  She doesn’t really NEED a lot of sleep while she has her powers, but she’s also afraid of sleeping - afraid of what she might do or what she might cause harm to when she’s sleeping or if she has a nightmare.  The last thing she wants to do is harm Claire, Carlos, or any of the people in the caravan – and she’s just as terrified of setting off another of the alarms, with the satellites scanning for brain activity from her abilities.

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@perfectdespair ;; connor gets a (short.....?) starter...

          The rain was torrential, every drop a stinging pellet of sensation against her face, her skin -- her clothes were soaked, clinging to the long lines and shallow curves of her body, layers tangled in each other.  Long pale blonde strands draped in chaos around her shoulders, down her back, against her throat, half tangled in the thick silver chains that hung around her neck.  If she had worn makeup, it was long washed away, and if she’d had enough of her wits to notice, she had stopped shivering long ago which ... wasn’t exactly a healthy sign.  Even with all of that, she showed no signs of stopping her cavorting, half laced combat boots stomping through puddles and splashing through the half lit street, back and forth between the couple of parked cars on either side of the bus stop.  Music blared, at least in her head, one earbud plugged solidly in, the other lost in the tangle of her hair, and she danced -- danced to the music in her head, to the music of the rain, oblivious to any looks that she might be receiving from anyone who cared enough to look. 

     --- until she saw that face, his face.  She was spinning, her arms flung out to her sides, when she saw him.  Young.  Lithe, long.  Curious.  Curious about -- her?  She didn’t know, she didn’t care, a grin leaping onto her pale features as she darted forward, a cold, wet hand latching onto his, wrapping around it, tugging it, tugging him out from under the cover of the depot and out towards the rain.  “Dance with me!” She shouted, her Russian accent clearly audible. 

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@brazenlass liked [X] for a short starter from Angel.

“Hey, kid --”  Probably not the most diplomatic of approaches, but as a general rule, lax was better when dealing with someone on the streets.  She and a few others had skidded out of view at his approach, but he could smell her more than the others -- or rather, he could smell the blood.  She was hurt, and out here, even the smallest wound could lead to serious complications without treatment. “I’m not gonna hurt you, okay?  I just want to help -- you’re hurt, right?”  He took a cautious step forward. “I can help with that -- if you let me.”