#s || starter

[pltfighter]

|| starter | @blubombs

While it was a uniform of sorts, it wasn't the Enforcer blues that she had loathed putting on that one time. She swore never again and she meant it. Reds and golds adorned her jacket, the whole get-up much more akin to an upgrade of the outfit she wore after Caitlyn sprung her from prison. She still got the occasional look from Zaunites who didn't like the fancier nature of her clothes, and who thought she abandoned them for a cushy life, but it was expected. She had planned to meet up with Ekko when a shock of electric blue caught her attention. No, that can't be right. Her steps hurried through the streets, trying to keep up with the streak of blue as it ducked into some alleyway, one of the ones where the ducts empty into.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She hadn't touched a drink in weeks, Cait made sure of it once Vi finally came clean about how bad she'd fallen. So this couldn't be a hallucination, could it? Cait said there was a possibility Jinx could have survived, but told her not to get her hopes up. But how could she not? Boots pounded against the uneven streets, racing to be sure, she had to be sure! "Jinx!" It was crazy, wasn't it? To hope she's still alive after all this time? "JINX!"

[pltfighter]

Victory is supposed to taste sweeter than this, the promise of a bag full of coin jingling beside her hip, another monster slain under her contract with the Fighters' Guild. Instead it tastes like blood, coppery on her tongue and staining her favorite tunic red. It is also her only tunic. So little was spent on herself outside of suitable armor, a sword that wouldn't shatter after too much use, and keeping a roof over her and her sister's head. It was all she could ask for. But right now?

She needs help.

The closest town according to the signs was Kvatch, not the biggest place, but there is a Chapel of Akatosh there, and she may be able to find healing within. She had patched it up as best she could, but she is no healer, she's a fighter. Fighting has been all she's ever known.

She ignores the stares of the townsfolk as she hobbles past, hand pressed to her abdomen, further tying to staunch the blood from flowing, with her shoulder, she pushes against the heavy wooden door of the chapel, staggering in. "Is there a healer here? I need help." Asking for help isn't like her, but this is one wound she knows she can't care for on her own.

|| @torntruth | martin septim

[pltfighter]

|| Plotted starter for @torntruth | Caitlyn Kirraman (werewolf au verse)

Things had felt wrong since she had escaped the Stillwater prison. The entire place had descended into chaos after a new prisoner was processed, first week there he started a fight in the cafeteria and bit Vi in the process. Fights she could handle, but that bite had stung like hell. Not even three days later, she had stolen away on one of the trolley trains, decked out in Enforcer gear after knocking out a guard. She hated the way it felt on her, it felt wrong. Dirty. They would be looking for her, certainly, but with no end to her sentence in sight, she had to make her escape.

But that was nearly a month ago, and she's kept her head down and her nose clean. For all the good that did. That bite wound never stopped itching or hurting, damn thing must have gotten infected. Stillwater didn't exactly have great healthcare, and Vi couldn't stop in anywhere to get it looked at, not until the heat died down. But it was a different type of heat that had torn through her as the full moon first rose over the dull skyline.

Everything is a blur, indistinct, sharp but distorted at the same time. She's running, the cobblework of the bridge under padded paws, great strides taken, claws outstretched as she heard the muffled shouts of Enforcers, the clicks of their guns raising. They never have the chance to fire, talons tearing and rending flesh from bone as she moves through them, paper dolls for the shredding. No thinking, running on instinct, moving across the bridge into the forbidden city. Zaunites didn't go here, but she wasn't thinking in those terms right now.

Red fur trailed down her strong limbs as she continued to run, no direction, nothing save for the need to run, need to be free. Need for flesh. Limbs halt abruptly as she reaches a dead end in the gilded city. Snarls and snorts take the place of verbal protestations, golden eyes darting around as she tries to figure out where to go next. A soft sound behind her snaps her wolvish head in its direction, a low growl rattling out from behind razor sharp teeth. Meat.