#neokitsched

[prvtocol]

@neokitsched​ ( Lian ) : ❛ you got guts, i’ll give you that. ❜ lian @ vez :)c | &. 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. ( accepting )

Not that she’d consider pulling one gonk ass motorcycle stunt gutsy ( even if it’s one likely to smear someone’s brains across the pavement ), but she’ll take the rockerboy’s praise when it’s given — just not outrightly. Chin raises, a ghost of a half-smile gracing thin lips on a pale facade before a black chrome hand outstretches and spindly digits point to the pack of cigarettes he brandishes. “Thanks, but I’ll take one of those instead.” Lian obliges and Vez requests a light. How demanding of her. Thankfully Lian is a good sport and doesn’t let her down. “Used to do Paris street races back in my uni days. Bet they have the same going ons here. Might be fun.” Husky voice drawls unenergetically, a shrug adding emphasis to her nonchalance of a bad idea. The agent’s propensity to seek out risks has never been her strong suit.

[tiredtangerines]

@neokitsched​​

 it’s  strange,  i  felt  less  lonely  when  i  didn’t  know  you.  "it's  good  to  see  you  too,  eunki."  cladded  in  an  evening  gown  and  hidden  away  on  a  balcony  overseeing  the  skyline,  she  looks  like  she  belongs  in  a  romantic  commercial  woven  with  pinks  and  lilacs.  of  course,  she'd  recognise  his  voice  anywhere.  she  didn't  expect  to  see  him  here,  but  lonely  souls  find  lonely  souls.  she  turns  around  and  finds  herself  as  starstruck  as  the  first  time  she's  seen  him  —  he  looks  dazzling  tonight  and  she'd  tell  him  if  things  didn't  change  between  them.  it's  not  so  much  that  things  changed,  but  the  world  that  showed  its  cruel  colours.  should  she  reply  in  kind  if  a  confrontation  is  what  he  wants?  should  she  dodge  him  again?  instead,  she  takes  another  sip  from  her  half-emptied  glass.  she  is  too  tipsy  to  care  and  everyone  else  is  a  bore.  "have  you  tried  this?"  her  manicured  nail  taps  the  rim  of  the  glass.  "they've  got  exquisite  wine."

[prvtocol]

@neokitsched ( Zadie ) : ❛ i know you. how else do you think i found you so easily? ❜  zadie @ bri :> | &. 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. ( accepting )

“Oh dear. I’m becoming predictable, aren’t I?” The thought, stated with embarrassed amusement, makes her feel her age ever more so. A daily routine. Ten minute breaks between meetings in the morning, afternoon, and evening meticulously inserted into a hectic schedule. Just enough time for a jaunt down the hall to the small atrium to change the scenery, inhale some fresh oxygen, and complete a round of neuromotor relaxation exercises. Supposed to relieve stress or so says her life coach. Thankfully she has access to pharmaceuticals that work a bit better. “And I suppose my security guard gives it away even further.” One stands sentient outside the door at all times. Of course, Zadie’s company is welcome and the curve on the crimson lips of the director in seeing her is anything but feigned. She would be on a short list of people from whom she doesn’t so much mind the interruption. “So what can I help you with this morning, Zadie?”

[axeattitude]

@neokitsched: who would want to come live here? ─ for seven :> / a prompt.

night city is a neon-soaked jewel, glittering on the california coast in a precarious gray-space between the norcal and socal. to some, it screams of promise and possibility, the fated city of dreams. to others and the disenfranchised, it’s a hellscape purgatory, the place they stay because it’s all they know and they have nowhere else to go. seven’s tone seems to drip with distain, and kerry, as he eyes him over the rim of his margarita glass, wonders if the latter is the case for him. 

“i mean,” kerry takes a sip from his margarita, and he purposely draws it out. “i came here. chose to stay here. this city... she’s a shit-stained alley, but she’s my shit-stained alley, y’know? there’s so much fuckin’ possibility. you can feel it. i’ve seen it, felt it. you know how long i’ve lived here. i mean, don’t get me wrong, it ain’t like the worst place to live in america label’s not totally undeserved, but... i dunno.”

kerry trails off, shrugs. he looks to the salted rim of his glass and keeps his attention there instead of seven. “i could see why someone would wanna come live here.” 

[esotericad]

Mask’s Calling (ANOTHER!<3)

>meme || oh another one im on the fence about?

Kagero laughs warmly as the other approaches, sleeve covered hand moving over where his mouth would be behind the mask. "I assure you my face is hidden for a good reason, though it's quite charming to watch you still try to lean around to peer past it after all these years hunter." His laugh is charming, and airy. His attitude has always been playful even after all he's been through.

[prvtocol]

@neokitsched ( Zadie García ) | p.s. —

“Zadie.” Brianne greets, bright eyes and a kind smile in tow to welcome the young woman, who is as impeccably dressed as one would expect of Hanako Arasaka’s personal assistant. “It’s lovely to see you again. I got the hint this was not all personal so figured one of these rooms would do.” 

Rather than a power lunch at one of Night City’s elite restaurants, a small conference room on the 98th floor of Konpeki Plaza. Coincidentally, Brianne had it booked for the week to treat an entourage of international security advisors and budget controllers descending on NC to push forward several of Arasaka’s local building campaigns. Of course, when Hanako Arasaka’s personal assistant requests a meeting, Brianne will squeeze it into the schedule. At least, knowing Zadie more personally from a short stint at HQ makes it feel less of a strain.

“I’m making tea, though if you prefer they really have everything.” Coffee, French wine, Japanese fine whiskey, even NiCola for those uncouth few who need a boost of energy. A stocked bar. The upmost care for privacy. Not that Zadie wouldn’t have passed one of Brianne’s security detail stationed at the door. A bloke whose Opti-Shield gives no one a chance to know his thoughts. Probably better that way.