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.
How do you partake in this fantastic congregation of character testing? Why, by following these simple steps:
→ 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!
But wait, there's more! For the low, low price of $9,999.99, you can even use one of our handy prompts when you tag someone. You could even pick one with a Random Number Generator to help decide which prompt to go with!
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 disappears 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 can also be 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!
Somehow, in the midst of arriving in a strange new land, with no idea what's going on, Talia's strode, unknowingly, into the middle of gang territory, and there are currently a group of strange men and women glaring at her, surrounding her in fact.
"May I pass?" she tries, pushing all of her strength, everything that she's learnt from Ser Royland, from Roderik and Ethan, into her voice, and shifting her stance to show that weaponless or not, she is unafraid.
They seem to have no intention of allowing that, instead, breaking into questions about an item of some value that she is supposedly carrying, calling her a courier and the like. With no idea what they are speaking of, Talia's trying to remain firm and calm, but her resolve begins to break after several moments of this rather one sided conversation.
"I tell you, I have no idea what you are speaking of." And, she's being Asher's sister now, bold and unpredictable Asher, who lets no one stand in his way. "I have nothing to do with this, and wish to pass. Please." She adds, and in that 'please' is not so much a whine or plea or bratty childish demand as a request, from a lady of a noble house, to let her by and continue her business elsewhere. There is respect in it,what she can muster up, but she will also NOT be cowed. So Talia hopes at least.
"It's obvious you have the wrong person," a new voice intrudes on the conversation, with an exaggerated yawn that shows two distinctly pointed fangs. The young woman has tufted and furred ears rising from her copper-coloured hair, and there's a swish of tail peeking out from the hem of her skirt. "And she's being a lot more polite than I would have."
"If you want to bother some one, pick one who is armed." Hopefully the noise of someone in armor is warning enough for the human, because Volga approaches and just stops there. He might be watching, but it's really hard to see his eyes, even with the angle being favorable because... he sure is something like seven feet tall.
If his meaning wasn't clear enough, he rests the end of his spear - a thing of steel and what looks like fang and bone - on the ground next to him. That is even taller than he is. Fights are good - less confusion all about, no time to be disgruntled because all of the water.
The marketplace had too many people, but Lucy was hungry and the quieter parts of the city would be too difficult to steal money. She didn't need to skulk around or anything either; she just needed to walk around, browsing, while her invisible hands ventured off to grab the strange metal coins out of unguarded pockets, or to grab poorly watched goods off of tables.
She made sure not to get greedy; just enough to get by. After one run through the market she was sufficiently wealthy for a small meal at one of those restaurants, and more than overstimulated enough to seek out solitude.
That is, until she saw that dress there. She involuntarily reached out to touch the fabric. It was gorgeous and it even looked her size.
"Interested? Thirty Kedan for a pretty lady like you!" A compliment to hide that it was actually marked up, but Lucy had no way of knowing that.
"I don't have enough..." she muttered. A thought popped into her head. Kill him, take it for yourself. She was ashamed that the next thought was not 'no, that's wrong,' but 'there's too many people.'
"S-sorry." She turned to leave, lowering her red face behind her long hair.
::RADIO - Voice::
[ There's a voice on the radio. Young, feminine. Scared? ]
Does anyone else here have horns? Can anyone else... do things... with their mind?
Nevermind, forget it.
::WILDCARD::(CW: Violence/fighting)
[ Now you've done it. You've made Lucy mad. Or maybe you've just made her scared. Or maybe you've done nothing, and something else has triggered a relapse/panic attack. Either way you better be really powerful, really quick, astute and maybe durable (ideally all of the above) because a set of invisible hands are lashing out at you at supersonic speeds, fast enough to cut through stone and some metals.
[Talia had been passing through the marketplace herself, walking quickly enough to dodge the gang who'd taken an interest in her and thought her a courier working for their rivals for some reason. She'd stopped now that she'd lost them for the moment, taking in all that there was to be seen here. When she happened past the kedanese tailor, she had to stop and admire both the dress and the way that it seemed to go with Lucy's coloring.]
Oh that suits you very well. [But then, Talia knows a bit about negotiations from her mother, new here or not, and steps closer to get a better look at the dress itself, frowning thoughtfully.]
Hmm, though, I'm not too sure about some of these seems. They seem a little...slapdash in the back here, for the price.
Yorda didn't like the noise or the crowds, she decided. The marketplace was not a place for her and she turned to weave her way down one of the quieter alleyways when something odd caught her eye.
Flickers of motion, there but not there, as silent and visible as the whispers of a shadow. Yorda could see such things though she didn't know this. She had no basis for comparison. Her own abilities were as alien to her as this world. She was just trying to find the boy with horns. But there it was again, a shift in the air and movement where there should only be stillness.
She squinted but couldn't make out anything definite. As best she could tell, the movement came and returned to one of the stands where a man was talking to a girl with pink hair.
But more than the strange hair... horns! She had horns!
Yorda scurried through the crowd, stumbling a bit, still unsure of her own legs and reached for the girl's shoulder.
"Ico?" She asked breathlessly. Words still felt strange on her lips. Before the boy with horns, she hadn't spoken in years. And even then, the language barrier between them had limited her to only a few utterances. "...Ico?"
[Keeliai's going to be treated to video of this man, looking like every single existing stereotype of a movie villain all rolled into one - or, more accurately, his pointy forehead, as he leans forward to fiddle with the dials.]
Is this thing on? Is it working?
[To top all the stereotypes off, he has a German accent. It sounds a little like this.]
This is ridiculously over-complicated. I can't believe it doesn't even have a remote control. Everything has a remote control these days. What am I supposed to do, lean forward every time I want to change the - oh, wait a minute. This light is blinking. Does that mean it's working?
[He looks up. His face brightens.]
It is! Perfect! Okay, okay. Hello, citizens of... Keeliai. My name is Doctor Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and I am an evil genius. Oh, but not today! Today I'm here with a very simple request. I just want a building. A big, empty building. Ideally a tall big empty building, right in the middle of the city. If you're willing to sell to me, I'm a very reasonable man. I can almost guarantee that the building won't get blown up, or... struck by lightning. I don't know. Do you even have lightning here? Is that why you don't have remote controls?
Kitty looks down (not especially far down, for her) and smiles. "Hey, littlie. I, uh...hmm." She looks back up and frowns. "Fire Sector? Probably? As for the exact location, I couldn't tell ya. I'm a bit lost, myself!"
Edited (phone tagging is the bane of my life) 2015-09-26 15:07 (UTC)
It's the first day of his new life here in...wherever this place is. Doesn't matter. It's not home, and it's not where the elven bankers are waiting to collect on his student loans, with the exorbitant interest rates that don't necessarily involve percentages so much as years of his life.
Elves are weird.
And they're (hopefully) too far away to collect.
He's practically skipping as he makes his way down the street, eyes wide with wonder (and a little giddiness that comes from a taste of financial freedom, no lie, even if he is one broke wizarding asshole right now. Dire financial straights soon to be remedied, hopefully.) Walking backwards, head tilted back so he can have a look at unfamiliar skies, runs him right into some poor, unsuspecting humanoid - whom he hopes is not an elf. "Oh! Terribly sorry."
Kitty staggers a little before regaining her footing. "Ain't no thing, man," she says, and smiles at him, any annoyance she feels certainly not showing on her face.
"But, uh, maybe lookin' ahead of yourself is a good way to go around here," she laughs. "I've already walked into at least one building doing what you just did. Least I'm squishier."
Unfortunately, being bumped into in the middle of the street of a strange city while disoriented wasn't the best situation for a former-mercenary. Connor twisted around and grabbed at the person who had gotten in his space, shoving him up against the nearest wall-like structure before he could stop to think.
It didn't take long for it to set in what had happened, three seconds at most, and he immediately pulled away regardless of the fact of the stranger having his balance or not.
And the kid he bumps into staggers back and falls on his butt with an oof!
Wincing he looks up at the guy, before smiling. "It's fine, not the worst thing I've had happened." He gets up, dusting himself off. "My name's Steven. What's yours?"
Elves are, indeed, weird. And the young girl Wallace just toppled over looks very elf-like. Kind of. Her ears are somewhat pointy and large at least, but the rest of her looks more ghost-like, considering the way shadows don't seem to stick to her properly, making her stand out like a bad green-screening effect.
"Sorry," she repeated. "Yes." Carefully, she picked herself up off the ground. Dirt didn't seem to stick to her either. While she felt solid enough (at least enough to knock over), she didn't quite look it, as though she were not entirely there.
No, not an elf. But a fire dragon using a human shape. Due to that bit of shapeshifting, despite the armor, Volga is perhaps uncomfortably warm to have been walked into.
The temperature inches upward as he looks down. Although it is easier to see the eyes in the skull-like helm than his own-
"You'll walk into things far more hazardous if you keep looking up."
Elizabeth Burke | White Collar | hold on to your hats, voicetesting
Look, just because I'm new here doesn't mean I can't tell what this is worth.
[It's not quite a lie. She's still figuring out things like currency and how to tell what sector she's in. But she knows cities, and tourists are always prime targets for fleecing, and while she can't do anything about being out of her depth, she can guess this is not worth as many juulan as the vendor is trying to charge her. Elizabeth firms up the set of her mouth and gives the man she's talking to something of a stern look.]
[The kedan does not look impressed, and indicates that the price is not going to change.]
All right, fine. [Know when to walk away.] I'll try somewhere else.
[The vendor fails to stop her with a more reasonable offer, as she was hoping. Clearly she needs practice. The result is a woman with an expression of moderate consternation, who has no idea where she's going but is walking as if she does, because there's not much else she can do.]
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five | water sector
[Elizabeth has spent much of the last three hours being exceptionally confused. This is not New York. Most of these people aren't human. She had thought her standards for weird were fairly high, after experiencing friendship with Mozzie, but apparently that wasn't even the half of it.]
[She doesn't know what a city like this could possibly want with her, but she has a feeling that it is probably, somehow, related to Neal. It usually is.]
[She's been sitting on the edge of a fountain for a little while, out of the way and trying to gather herself; now it's time to do something. One of the kedan she talked to first told her about a place called the Midnight Hotel, but she hasn't managed to get directions yet. Elizabeth watches the crowd, biting her lip and trying to pick out other "Foreigners" from kedan. Sometimes it's easy. Other times it's... less so. The first one she's sure about, though, she'll approach.]
Excuse me? I haven't been here long, and I was hoping you could give me directions.
That kind of thing would usually work... if we weren't foreigners.
[ So says the young man sidling up beside her, close enough to seem friendly without being close enough to be threatening. He gives her a grin, lopsided and genuine. ]
Some kedan care, most don't. They've got guaranteed business from others, but we all just come and go sometimes, so who cares?
[ Although not perhaps the most normal of people, Connor is at least definitely human by appearance. Even in the heat, he's wearing a light long-sleeved shirt and a glove on his right hand. At being stopped, he hesitates. ]
[ There's a young adult standing in the middle of the street. Kind of an odd place, really, considering there seems to be some kirin galloping full tilt down the road! His hood lifts, pulls up over his head, and the golden rivets attached spread apart and begin to draw glowing lines in the air.
Maybe... maybe not such a good idea to be doing that in the middle of their path, bud...? ]
Three | wherever
[ So. There appears to be a book fair going on. Completely out of nowhere, but kedan are all the rage into some seriously bad, dime novel fiction and are trying to spread all the love. The raven-haired youth seems definitely into this block-wide yardsale. ]
Oh... This is a new one. These are all new. How much did you say these were again? Do I have enough...?
[Yorda has never seen books before. It's debatable if she's even literate in anything but the strange sigils of her world. She picks up a book, turning it over and over in her hands, staring intently at it. She looks to the young man nearby.]
The turtle's new arrival is sitting half-slumped on the ground, and is not in a good way.
Daniel is liberally coated in what appears to be his own blood, his right sleeve is pushed up to reveal a new, angry brand mark on his wrist that looks like a sideways E, and his head is bobbing wearily as he mumbles to himself. It's the same two phrases, over and over, and the translation magic wavers in and out. "Ya amerikanets. Ya khochu advokata. I'm an American. I want a lawyer."
It was the second time she had smelled this amount of blood on the air and it was obvious that whoever she found might not be alive, but she looked anyway. Hope it seemed, was not a dead thing. The man was covered in blood and Valdis knew that she really wasn't the right person for this. She knelt down next to him, almost afraid to touch him.
"I'm afraid that we don't really have lawyers here."
Gotta be honest, Amerika was freaking out. Not that you'd know it looking at him. Amerika was a perfect specimen of poise and badassery, glancing around as figments faded in and out of reality and the ground warped between different times and places like a kaleidescope. You learn quick how to hide what you're feeling on the streets, and Amerika had had years of practice.
He had a knife in hand (wishing he had a gun), ready to shank the first one of these diablos that came at him. Maybe it wouldn't do shit, but they'd know he wasn't no puto either way.
4 Undercover (except not really)
The gang life if the life Amerika is most comfortable with; holding a 'job'? He didn't have the scraps for that. Back in LA places just didn't take chicanos with rap sheets, and it wasn't much better in Johannesburg. The gangster aesthetic seemed to be popular enough that it went international, which was just as well for Amerika, made it so his rep carried weight in places he'd never been before. The original gangster. Show 'em how to do it right.
Gangsters on the turtle were a different story. More like Yakuza than Rolling 30s. But respect was a language that went past cultural lines, and Amerika found a place for himself in the snakes easy enough. Low level, but he'd work his way up from there, probably. Not too high though, that was just asking for trouble.
This other foreigner, though? They didn't strike Amerika as someone that really 'fit' the lifestyle. He honestly wanted to know what they were doing trying to roll with an outfit like this, if only for their own good.
Working with the Snakes held some benefits... mostly acquiring supplies for the Morrigan. He was mostly a... contractor, rather than swearing fealty for the Snakes.
They didn't know how he did it, and he refused any work that involved roughing people up, or killing them. Stealing, or collecting debts? Perfect for him. Best thing? The Snakes didn't even know it was him. A plus side of being Assassin-trained.
He was waiting for his next assignment when the Foreigner approached. A quick flash of his Sense indicated he wasn't a threat, so...
"My story?" He replies, in an Irish accent, but one suitably changed from his regular one to make sure he isn't picked up on the Consoles and Radios as the Foreigner doing the Snakes' dirty work. "What makes you think I have one?"
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tushanshu_ooc2015-09-22 11:30 pm
Talia Forester| Game Of Thrones (Telltale) 4
"May I pass?" she tries, pushing all of her strength, everything that she's learnt from Ser Royland, from Roderik and Ethan, into her voice, and shifting her stance to show that weaponless or not, she is unafraid.
They seem to have no intention of allowing that, instead, breaking into questions about an item of some value that she is supposedly carrying, calling her a courier and the like. With no idea what they are speaking of, Talia's trying to remain firm and calm, but her resolve begins to break after several moments of this rather one sided conversation.
"I tell you, I have no idea what you are speaking of." And, she's being Asher's sister now, bold and unpredictable Asher, who lets no one stand in his way. "I have nothing to do with this, and wish to pass. Please." She adds, and in that 'please' is not so much a whine or plea or bratty childish demand as a request, from a lady of a noble house, to let her by and continue her business elsewhere. There is respect in it,what she can muster up, but she will also NOT be cowed. So Talia hopes at least.
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If his meaning wasn't clear enough, he rests the end of his spear - a thing of steel and what looks like fang and bone - on the ground next to him. That is even taller than he is. Fights are good - less confusion all about, no time to be disgruntled because all of the water.
Lucy | Elfen Lied
The marketplace had too many people, but Lucy was hungry and the quieter parts of the city would be too difficult to steal money. She didn't need to skulk around or anything either; she just needed to walk around, browsing, while her invisible hands ventured off to grab the strange metal coins out of unguarded pockets, or to grab poorly watched goods off of tables.
She made sure not to get greedy; just enough to get by. After one run through the market she was sufficiently wealthy for a small meal at one of those restaurants, and more than overstimulated enough to seek out solitude.
That is, until she saw that dress there. She involuntarily reached out to touch the fabric. It was gorgeous and it even looked her size.
"Interested? Thirty Kedan for a pretty lady like you!" A compliment to hide that it was actually marked up, but Lucy had no way of knowing that.
"I don't have enough..." she muttered. A thought popped into her head. Kill him, take it for yourself. She was ashamed that the next thought was not 'no, that's wrong,' but 'there's too many people.'
"S-sorry." She turned to leave, lowering her red face behind her long hair.
::RADIO - Voice::
[ There's a voice on the radio. Young, feminine. Scared? ]
Does anyone else here have horns? Can anyone else... do things... with their mind?
Nevermind, forget it.
::WILDCARD:: (CW: Violence/fighting)
[ Now you've done it. You've made Lucy mad. Or maybe you've just made her scared. Or maybe you've done nothing, and something else has triggered a relapse/panic attack. Either way you better be really powerful, really quick, astute and maybe durable (ideally all of the above) because a set of invisible hands are lashing out at you at supersonic speeds, fast enough to cut through stone and some metals.
Better get out of her 4 meter killzone quick! ]
Marketplace
Oh that suits you very well. [But then, Talia knows a bit about negotiations from her mother, new here or not, and steps closer to get a better look at the dress itself, frowning thoughtfully.]
Hmm, though, I'm not too sure about some of these seems. They seem a little...slapdash in the back here, for the price.
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[Marketplace]
Flickers of motion, there but not there, as silent and visible as the whispers of a shadow. Yorda could see such things though she didn't know this. She had no basis for comparison. Her own abilities were as alien to her as this world. She was just trying to find the boy with horns. But there it was again, a shift in the air and movement where there should only be stillness.
She squinted but couldn't make out anything definite. As best she could tell, the movement came and returned to one of the stands where a man was talking to a girl with pink hair.
But more than the strange hair... horns! She had horns!
Yorda scurried through the crowd, stumbling a bit, still unsure of her own legs and reached for the girl's shoulder.
"Ico?" She asked breathlessly. Words still felt strange on her lips. Before the boy with horns, she hadn't spoken in years. And even then, the language barrier between them had limited her to only a few utterances. "...Ico?"
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Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz | Phineas and Ferb | you're not the boss of me
[Keeliai's going to be treated to video of this man, looking like every single existing stereotype of a movie villain all rolled into one - or, more accurately, his pointy forehead, as he leans forward to fiddle with the dials.]
Is this thing on? Is it working?
[To top all the stereotypes off, he has a German accent. It sounds a little like this.]
This is ridiculously over-complicated. I can't believe it doesn't even have a remote control. Everything has a remote control these days. What am I supposed to do, lean forward every time I want to change the - oh, wait a minute. This light is blinking. Does that mean it's working?
[He looks up. His face brightens.]
It is! Perfect! Okay, okay. Hello, citizens of... Keeliai. My name is Doctor Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and I am an evil genius. Oh, but not today! Today I'm here with a very simple request. I just want a building. A big, empty building. Ideally a tall big empty building, right in the middle of the city. If you're willing to sell to me, I'm a very reasonable man. I can almost guarantee that the building won't get blown up, or... struck by lightning. I don't know. Do you even have lightning here? Is that why you don't have remote controls?
voice;
What are you going to do with an empty building?
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video;
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Steven Quartz Universe | Steven Universe | OPTION 5
There's a kid, short, black, thick curly hair, kinda tubby, in a pink shirt with a yellow star on it.
And he's tugging on your coat, shirt, or whatever's in reach.
"Uh, excuse me?" He asks, politely. "Could you... tell me where I am? I'm... kinda lost."
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That voice is a small impossibility.
"Steven." An intake of breath, somewhere between a gasp and a hiccup. "Steven!"
If she were the sort to hug, she'd be seizing him immediately.
She's not, unfortunately, so she's just immediately down on her knees in front of him, staring.
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Wallace Everett, Wizard | Original Character
Elves are weird.
And they're (hopefully) too far away to collect.
He's practically skipping as he makes his way down the street, eyes wide with wonder (and a little giddiness that comes from a taste of financial freedom, no lie, even if he is one broke wizarding asshole right now. Dire financial straights soon to be remedied, hopefully.) Walking backwards, head tilted back so he can have a look at unfamiliar skies, runs him right into some poor, unsuspecting humanoid - whom he hopes is not an elf. "Oh! Terribly sorry."
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"But, uh, maybe lookin' ahead of yourself is a good way to go around here," she laughs. "I've already walked into at least one building doing what you just did. Least I'm squishier."
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It didn't take long for it to set in what had happened, three seconds at most, and he immediately pulled away regardless of the fact of the stranger having his balance or not.
"S-sorry. You just—sorry."
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Wincing he looks up at the guy, before smiling. "It's fine, not the worst thing I've had happened." He gets up, dusting himself off. "My name's Steven. What's yours?"
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"Sorry," she repeated. "Yes." Carefully, she picked herself up off the ground. Dirt didn't seem to stick to her either. While she felt solid enough (at least enough to knock over), she didn't quite look it, as though she were not entirely there.
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The temperature inches upward as he looks down. Although it is easier to see the eyes in the skull-like helm than his own-
"You'll walk into things far more hazardous if you keep looking up."
Elizabeth Burke | White Collar | hold on to your hats, voicetesting
Look, just because I'm new here doesn't mean I can't tell what this is worth.
[It's not quite a lie. She's still figuring out things like currency and how to tell what sector she's in. But she knows cities, and tourists are always prime targets for fleecing, and while she can't do anything about being out of her depth, she can guess this is not worth as many juulan as the vendor is trying to charge her. Elizabeth firms up the set of her mouth and gives the man she's talking to something of a stern look.]
[The kedan does not look impressed, and indicates that the price is not going to change.]
All right, fine. [Know when to walk away.] I'll try somewhere else.
[The vendor fails to stop her with a more reasonable offer, as she was hoping. Clearly she needs practice. The result is a woman with an expression of moderate consternation, who has no idea where she's going but is walking as if she does, because there's not much else she can do.]
-----
five | water sector
[Elizabeth has spent much of the last three hours being exceptionally confused. This is not New York. Most of these people aren't human. She had thought her standards for weird were fairly high, after experiencing friendship with Mozzie, but apparently that wasn't even the half of it.]
[She doesn't know what a city like this could possibly want with her, but she has a feeling that it is probably, somehow, related to Neal. It usually is.]
[She's been sitting on the edge of a fountain for a little while, out of the way and trying to gather herself; now it's time to do something. One of the kedan she talked to first told her about a place called the Midnight Hotel, but she hasn't managed to get directions yet. Elizabeth watches the crowd, biting her lip and trying to pick out other "Foreigners" from kedan. Sometimes it's easy. Other times it's... less so. The first one she's sure about, though, she'll approach.]
Excuse me? I haven't been here long, and I was hoping you could give me directions.
one
[ So says the young man sidling up beside her, close enough to seem friendly without being close enough to be threatening. He gives her a grin, lopsided and genuine. ]
Some kedan care, most don't. They've got guaranteed business from others, but we all just come and go sometimes, so who cares?
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five
Uh... to where? Because neither have I.
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[ There's a young adult standing in the middle of the street. Kind of an odd place, really, considering there seems to be some kirin galloping full tilt down the road! His hood lifts, pulls up over his head, and the golden rivets attached spread apart and begin to draw glowing lines in the air.
Maybe... maybe not such a good idea to be doing that in the middle of their path, bud...? ]
Three | wherever
[ So. There appears to be a book fair going on. Completely out of nowhere, but kedan are all the rage into some seriously bad, dime novel fiction and are trying to spread all the love. The raven-haired youth seems definitely into this block-wide yardsale. ]
Oh... This is a new one. These are all new. How much did you say these were again? Do I have enough...?
Three!
What does it say?
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two?
two. defs.
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Daniel Kinney | OC | alex no
Daniel is liberally coated in what appears to be his own blood, his right sleeve is pushed up to reveal a new, angry brand mark on his wrist that looks like a sideways E, and his head is bobbing wearily as he mumbles to himself. It's the same two phrases, over and over, and the translation magic wavers in and out. "Ya amerikanets. Ya khochu advokata. I'm an American. I want a lawyer."
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"I'm afraid that we don't really have lawyers here."
sorry Valdis I just bring in all the blood-soaked idiots. It's kinda my thing.
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THUMBS OF FURY
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I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW I NEARLY SHOUTED WHEN I SAW THIS TAG
GOOD :)
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why hallo thar
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Amerika (Yankee) | Chappie
3 Dreaming
Gotta be honest, Amerika was freaking out. Not that you'd know it looking at him. Amerika was a perfect specimen of poise and badassery, glancing around as figments faded in and out of reality and the ground warped between different times and places like a kaleidescope. You learn quick how to hide what you're feeling on the streets, and Amerika had had years of practice.
He had a knife in hand (wishing he had a gun), ready to shank the first one of these diablos that came at him. Maybe it wouldn't do shit, but they'd know he wasn't no puto either way.
4 Undercover (except not really)
The gang life if the life Amerika is most comfortable with; holding a 'job'? He didn't have the scraps for that. Back in LA places just didn't take chicanos with rap sheets, and it wasn't much better in Johannesburg. The gangster aesthetic seemed to be popular enough that it went international, which was just as well for Amerika, made it so his rep carried weight in places he'd never been before. The original gangster. Show 'em how to do it right.
Gangsters on the turtle were a different story. More like Yakuza than Rolling 30s. But respect was a language that went past cultural lines, and Amerika found a place for himself in the snakes easy enough. Low level, but he'd work his way up from there, probably. Not too high though, that was just asking for trouble.
This other foreigner, though? They didn't strike Amerika as someone that really 'fit' the lifestyle. He honestly wanted to know what they were doing trying to roll with an outfit like this, if only for their own good.
"Hey, vato, what's your story?"
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They didn't know how he did it, and he refused any work that involved roughing people up, or killing them. Stealing, or collecting debts? Perfect for him. Best thing? The Snakes didn't even know it was him. A plus side of being Assassin-trained.
He was waiting for his next assignment when the Foreigner approached. A quick flash of his Sense indicated he wasn't a threat, so...
"My story?" He replies, in an Irish accent, but one suitably changed from his regular one to make sure he isn't picked up on the Consoles and Radios as the Foreigner doing the Snakes' dirty work. "What makes you think I have one?"
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