Itching to try out writing a character? Then rev up your engines, grab your accounts, and slam your way into this meme! Here is a venue for you to try out whatever character there might be tickling your fancy, from fandom to OC, for as few as one and as many as MANY. Seriously, there's no limit.
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→ Comment with the journal of a character you want to test; put their name and canon in the subject line for added sparkles. → Tag around with everyone! → Profit like you live on a the back of a turtle! → Maybe even RESERVE so you CAN live on the back of a turtle!
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Haggling Over Something in the Marketplace! Maybe someone else saw the exact same shiny thing you did at the exact same moment! However shall this be resolved? Remember: blood is extremely hard to scrub off of turtle shell!
Dramatic Chase Sequence! You're running away from something! It could be anything, from a rampaging kirin to a gaggle of overly enthusiastic children! One way or another, you can't stop, and much like a katamari ball, you feel obligated to grab everyone in your path along the way to keep them out of danger! Or perhaps you're more the sort to try and knock them into it as a distraction...?
Where There's A Will, There's A...? The Life and Dreaming Planes have been merged, and sometimes what start out as wishful thinking becomes lured into reality. That slick new motorcycle or pile of kingly treasure you were just daydreaming about? Surprise! Though it may only stay for a short while before it disppears again, so make it count. Hopefully you're not the type to daydream about terrible things befalling people you don't like...
SECRET UNDERCOVER MODE ACTIVATE! The three major kedan families all have their own agendas, and you've chosen to entangle yourselves with one (or more!) of them. Are you hoping to shift the balance of power? Gain some favours? Perhaps you're on a mission to bring a criminal to justice, or maybe you just want to get the cream of the crop from the black market.
WILDCARD! Go nuts. Suddenly your character is fighting dragons! Good God, they've found the Millennium Falcon drifting in the ocean! Do you really feel the need to polish every paving stone in the Earth Sector? Please note, Wildcard options are also what you can choose to do if you aren't yet comfortable in the Tu Shanshu setting and would prefer a more 'dear-mun'-esque experience. Please specify in your post!
He cringes at that last shove, and even after Callaghan lets him go there's nowhere to move--the man's a step back, which isn't very far at all. Certainly not far enough for Krei to take a moment to catch his breath, which is what he'd really like to do. Instead there's a moment of confusion (he wants the cards?) before he pulls his wallet out once again and flips it open.
Empty of real money at this point, the billfold contains only a California state driver's license and a solid row of gleaming credit cards. Forget gold--these cards come in colors like black, platinum, and titanium. The maintenance fees on these cards alone could pay the starting salary of someone at Krei Tech.
There's nothing else. No keepsakes, no pictures. Krei pauses for a moment, fingers hovering over the cards. With a quick, nervous glance up at Callaghan, he slips the driver's license out of the billfold and pockets it, then offers the rest of it to Robert.
He briefly considers asking what Callaghan intends to do with them, but for once, wisely keeps his mouth shut.
Thankfully, Krei won't have to worry about those maintenance fees. And really, Callaghan's doing him a favor, lightening his load; those things are all but useless, here, and while there's a slight darkening of expression as Alistair pulls one back - yes, he sees it, and he keeps one hand held out for it in demand as he looks over the other cards.
"All of them, Krei."
That look-over mostly involves searching for a PIC code, not finding it, then bending one briefly to test the make. He's probably going to take too much satisfaction in taking them apart, but- it seems to be standard PVC. Not that he has much of a way to remove the impurities, but if he breaks it down he should be able to refine it in to something useful...
It rankles enough that he's tempted to say something, even after Callaghan's threats, though for the life of him he can't consciously define just why at first. No one else knows who he is in this place. No one cares. Why should a little piece of plastic with his picture on it even matter? Still, he finds himself hesitating just a bit longer before pulling the card back out and passing it over to Callaghan--again, without saying anything.
Maybe it's the acknowledgment that no one here cares who he is. It's such a foreign concept anymore, after so many years of being the wunderkind of the tech world, the name on every Forbes list, on every guest list for every big name event. Without that little piece of plastic to prove that he's Alistair Krei, who the hell is he?
He clears his throat, smoothes the sleek fabric of one of his sleeves. "Anything else?" If Callaghan's going to turn him upside down and shake him for change, might as well get it over with.
Don't tempt him. If he had the microbots on him, maybe...
A quick flex of the plastic on that one, too, and then he's pocketing it with the rest. "Not unless you have a habit of carrying copper with you," he answers, turning to walk again. "But all that aside, I'd suggest you get used to 'roughing it'; this place is somewhere between sixty and a hundred years behind San Fransokyo. And most people are still deciding whether or not they like us - ask someone else for the history, but the short of it is that the 'Foreigners' can make an easy scapegoat. We don't need you giving them more of an excuse."
It's clear he expects Krei to follow. Say what you will about Callaghan, but he does tend to make good on his word, or at least try.
Krei does follow, carefully keeping at least a couple of paces between them--just far enough so that he's not right behind the other man, because he's had about enough of Callaghan to last him the rest of his life thank you, but just close enough to dissuade any other kedan who might be looking for an easy target. If there's an implication of weakness in that, it washes right over him. He's too mentally overwhelmed to care, and it's not as if he hasn't had to employ security guards before.
He could do without having been bought, but there's not much he can do about that at present.
Even the urge to snap back about giving them more of an excuse is subdued out of fear. He stays quiet, letting Callaghan speak while he trails along behind, fretting silently about the blood on his face. The handkerchief is gone, probably lost when Callaghan slammed him into the wall.
At what seems like a vaguely appropriate part of the very one-sided conversation, he finally pipes up. "How long have you been here?"
It was the easiest and simplest way to get him out of there. Callaghan's not quite the sort to point and laugh, even with someone he despises, but he's still of the mindset that Krei owes him. And that nothing is owed in return.
"A few months."
That sort of information, however, he sees no reason to withhold. What does it matter?
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tushanshu_ooc2015-02-25 02:14 am
no subject
Empty of real money at this point, the billfold contains only a California state driver's license and a solid row of gleaming credit cards. Forget gold--these cards come in colors like black, platinum, and titanium. The maintenance fees on these cards alone could pay the starting salary of someone at Krei Tech.
There's nothing else. No keepsakes, no pictures. Krei pauses for a moment, fingers hovering over the cards. With a quick, nervous glance up at Callaghan, he slips the driver's license out of the billfold and pockets it, then offers the rest of it to Robert.
He briefly considers asking what Callaghan intends to do with them, but for once, wisely keeps his mouth shut.
no subject
"All of them, Krei."
That look-over mostly involves searching for a PIC code, not finding it, then bending one briefly to test the make. He's probably going to take too much satisfaction in taking them apart, but- it seems to be standard PVC. Not that he has much of a way to remove the impurities, but if he breaks it down he should be able to refine it in to something useful...
no subject
Maybe it's the acknowledgment that no one here cares who he is. It's such a foreign concept anymore, after so many years of being the wunderkind of the tech world, the name on every Forbes list, on every guest list for every big name event. Without that little piece of plastic to prove that he's Alistair Krei, who the hell is he?
He clears his throat, smoothes the sleek fabric of one of his sleeves. "Anything else?" If Callaghan's going to turn him upside down and shake him for change, might as well get it over with.
no subject
A quick flex of the plastic on that one, too, and then he's pocketing it with the rest. "Not unless you have a habit of carrying copper with you," he answers, turning to walk again. "But all that aside, I'd suggest you get used to 'roughing it'; this place is somewhere between sixty and a hundred years behind San Fransokyo. And most people are still deciding whether or not they like us - ask someone else for the history, but the short of it is that the 'Foreigners' can make an easy scapegoat. We don't need you giving them more of an excuse."
It's clear he expects Krei to follow. Say what you will about Callaghan, but he does tend to make good on his word, or at least try.
no subject
He could do without having been bought, but there's not much he can do about that at present.
Even the urge to snap back about giving them more of an excuse is subdued out of fear. He stays quiet, letting Callaghan speak while he trails along behind, fretting silently about the blood on his face. The handkerchief is gone, probably lost when Callaghan slammed him into the wall.
At what seems like a vaguely appropriate part of the very one-sided conversation, he finally pipes up. "How long have you been here?"
no subject
"A few months."
That sort of information, however, he sees no reason to withhold. What does it matter?