simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
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Fandom Persona: Non Grata
- Thread starter simj26
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simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
There is a blank in your memory. Who you are, you have no idea. You are, however, aware of the knowledge that you now stand here, on oaken floor, varnished to a gleaming sheen, because you have died. You are also keenly aware that you are nothing short of a sinner, a criminal of whatever proportions, and you now stand trial to perhaps find a new lease in life. A bargain with higher powers, as it were. And here you are now, with just this knowledge, and your name. Or what seems like your name.
The place that you stand in is a small, cosy cafe, big enough to seat perhaps thirty, maximum. A long counter sits in the center, with several coffee machines, microwave ovens, and a cashier lined up across it, along with several types of coffee beans displayed on the shelf behind. A thick scent of coffee lingers in the air. This is, no doubt about it, a small and quaint cafe like many others. The glass windows that encase the cafe show a sunny sidewalk of a business district, with the rare pedestrian strolling past, barely paying the cafe any attention at all. Despite the outside world seeming so close, the door to the outside, if one were to try it, is solidly locked and will not budge.
A young woman who was seated at the counter quickly jumps up from her seat, clasping her hands together and beams with joy at the arrival of, presumably, you and the others alongside you, disoriented as you are. The other woman, a dark-skinned one with snow-white hair seems less impressed. If anything, she seems to be disgruntled with your arrival, and eyes you with her golden eyes as if you were something she found under her boots during her morning walk.
“The name’s Amaryllis.” She wastes no time in introductions. “You are all dead.” Neither does she with the harsh truths as well. “Simply said, Higher Management has deigned to give you lot a second chance, for whatever reason I can’t fathom. That’s why you’re here, in my café.” She waves the blonde girl aside as the latter busies herself with the coffee machines, but keeps a close eye on her for a second, as if ensuring that she was brewing the coffee just right, then continues with her speech. “I’m your host, landlady, parole officer, whatever you wanna call me. I’m just here to give you your duties, and make sure you do ‘em.”
“You can call me Grey, by the way! I’m just like you!” The blonde pipes up, setting cups of coffee on the counter one by one. “I was an outlier from an earlier batch of Sinners, came in late due to some clerical error, or so Amaryllis says.” Amaryllis scowls at this sentence, but does not object nor agree to it. “I’ve got some experience under my belt, so I’ll try to help as much as I can!” She finally sets enough coffees for you and the rest of your company. She holds her hands on her hips, confident with her handiwork. “There! Try it! I’m just an amateur, so it ain’t gonna be the best coffee you’ve gotten, but it’s pretty good, if I do say so myself!”
Amaryllis does not waste further time, cutting in immediately after Grey is done. “Got any questions?”
(GM Post: Starting posts, everyone. Introductions are under way. Introduce yourselves, or don't, ask Amaryllis questions, bother Grey, or do not, examine the Velvet Passions as you will, or will not. It is all in your hands.)
The One Eyed Bandit
Refaulted
Midrick
BriiAngelic
Arcanist
Quiet
Lucem
Exanis
Necromantic
Stitches and Patchwork
The place that you stand in is a small, cosy cafe, big enough to seat perhaps thirty, maximum. A long counter sits in the center, with several coffee machines, microwave ovens, and a cashier lined up across it, along with several types of coffee beans displayed on the shelf behind. A thick scent of coffee lingers in the air. This is, no doubt about it, a small and quaint cafe like many others. The glass windows that encase the cafe show a sunny sidewalk of a business district, with the rare pedestrian strolling past, barely paying the cafe any attention at all. Despite the outside world seeming so close, the door to the outside, if one were to try it, is solidly locked and will not budge.
A young woman who was seated at the counter quickly jumps up from her seat, clasping her hands together and beams with joy at the arrival of, presumably, you and the others alongside you, disoriented as you are. The other woman, a dark-skinned one with snow-white hair seems less impressed. If anything, she seems to be disgruntled with your arrival, and eyes you with her golden eyes as if you were something she found under her boots during her morning walk.
“The name’s Amaryllis.” She wastes no time in introductions. “You are all dead.” Neither does she with the harsh truths as well. “Simply said, Higher Management has deigned to give you lot a second chance, for whatever reason I can’t fathom. That’s why you’re here, in my café.” She waves the blonde girl aside as the latter busies herself with the coffee machines, but keeps a close eye on her for a second, as if ensuring that she was brewing the coffee just right, then continues with her speech. “I’m your host, landlady, parole officer, whatever you wanna call me. I’m just here to give you your duties, and make sure you do ‘em.”
“You can call me Grey, by the way! I’m just like you!” The blonde pipes up, setting cups of coffee on the counter one by one. “I was an outlier from an earlier batch of Sinners, came in late due to some clerical error, or so Amaryllis says.” Amaryllis scowls at this sentence, but does not object nor agree to it. “I’ve got some experience under my belt, so I’ll try to help as much as I can!” She finally sets enough coffees for you and the rest of your company. She holds her hands on her hips, confident with her handiwork. “There! Try it! I’m just an amateur, so it ain’t gonna be the best coffee you’ve gotten, but it’s pretty good, if I do say so myself!”
Amaryllis does not waste further time, cutting in immediately after Grey is done. “Got any questions?”
(GM Post: Starting posts, everyone. Introductions are under way. Introduce yourselves, or don't, ask Amaryllis questions, bother Grey, or do not, examine the Velvet Passions as you will, or will not. It is all in your hands.)
The One Eyed Bandit
Refaulted
Midrick
BriiAngelic
Arcanist
Quiet
Lucem
Exanis
Necromantic
Stitches and Patchwork
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Refaulted
You're Done!
The woman looked around the establishment, feeling a sort of fuzziness in her head as she tried to wrap her mind around what was happening to her in the moment. She heard them speaking, and acknowledged what they were saying, but the haze that clouded her mind made it difficult to collect and organize the information she was being given. The idea that she was dead, or at least had died, was the only thing clear to her, and it stood at the forefront of her mind. For some reason, this didn't scare her, but moreso confused her, as she tried to find any sort of pieces of what she was before she stood in this cafe.
However, nothing came to her. There were no pieces to connect, and not a true name to put to herself. The only word she could think of when she tried to conjure some sort of name for herself was "Vixen".
She stopped, and took a deep breath. She had to collect her thoughts and clear her mind. At the moment, there wasn't much she could do to change her situation, so there was no point to resist what was happening. If this was some sort of punishment for whatever "sins" she committed, then so be it. It was now that she noticed that she was surrounded by others, who she guessed were the same as her, in that they all committed some grave act that had deposited them in the small establishment. Other than that, they all seemed, based on their appearances, to come from different backgrounds of different types, though she assumed it was unwise to ask them about themselves as she was sure they too had no memories prior to waking up.
So instead she walked over to where the girl named Grey had placed down coffee for all of them. Picking one up, she took a light sip of it, letting the liquid roll over her tongue to get the full taste. The taste wasn't great, a little too bitter still, but it certainly was drinkable. Then again, could she judge? As far as she knew, she had no idea how to make coffee. She placed the cup down. "Definitely a good cup of coffee, darling." Vixen turned towards her new boss, frowning. "Now, Amaryllis, I do have a few questions that I would like answered. First off, who is this "Higher Management" you just mentioned? Shouldn't they be here to greet us as well? The fact that we died and for some reason...came back to life or something? That's still very hard to understand. Second, if this is some sort of limbo, shouldn't it seem more gnarly? Like flames and pots of boiling people? I mean, we certainly have the Dev-" Vixen bit her tongue. There was no reason to insult the woman, even if she seemed annoyed by their very presence. "Last question, what prevents us from just walking out the door, never to come back?"
simj26
However, nothing came to her. There were no pieces to connect, and not a true name to put to herself. The only word she could think of when she tried to conjure some sort of name for herself was "Vixen".
She stopped, and took a deep breath. She had to collect her thoughts and clear her mind. At the moment, there wasn't much she could do to change her situation, so there was no point to resist what was happening. If this was some sort of punishment for whatever "sins" she committed, then so be it. It was now that she noticed that she was surrounded by others, who she guessed were the same as her, in that they all committed some grave act that had deposited them in the small establishment. Other than that, they all seemed, based on their appearances, to come from different backgrounds of different types, though she assumed it was unwise to ask them about themselves as she was sure they too had no memories prior to waking up.
So instead she walked over to where the girl named Grey had placed down coffee for all of them. Picking one up, she took a light sip of it, letting the liquid roll over her tongue to get the full taste. The taste wasn't great, a little too bitter still, but it certainly was drinkable. Then again, could she judge? As far as she knew, she had no idea how to make coffee. She placed the cup down. "Definitely a good cup of coffee, darling." Vixen turned towards her new boss, frowning. "Now, Amaryllis, I do have a few questions that I would like answered. First off, who is this "Higher Management" you just mentioned? Shouldn't they be here to greet us as well? The fact that we died and for some reason...came back to life or something? That's still very hard to understand. Second, if this is some sort of limbo, shouldn't it seem more gnarly? Like flames and pots of boiling people? I mean, we certainly have the Dev-" Vixen bit her tongue. There was no reason to insult the woman, even if she seemed annoyed by their very presence. "Last question, what prevents us from just walking out the door, never to come back?"
simj26
Stitches and Patchwork
The Cheese Knees
Death
It was known as the end of a living being.
Many people were taught to fear it. That it was the inevitable shadow that would come like a shadow, crawling up to you before enveloping you into a deep dark abyss. Or at least that's what pop culture apparently made it seem like if memories served correctly. However, among the various reactions of these apparent sinners, a lavender-haired female standing between them did not seem to react. Rather her expression remained rather monotone, only a few minor details suggesting something else such as a slight clenching in her jaw and a flicker of shock that appeared in her amethyst eyes. After all, for a strange reason she could not explain, she felt the need to hide her shock as this revelation of the announcement of her death. It was believed it was for the better. That did not stop her mind from processing the information as soon her focus became engrossed with one question as she stared at the dark murky surface that supposedly was coffee.
Well, rather two questions. One of them is if this was truly coffee. Despite the scent seeming to resemble that of the bitter drink. It looked as coffee as well. However, she was an unknown place, faced by basically strangers. Deciding to not test her luck, the female came to the conclusion that whether the substance was coffee or not, she shouldn't drink it, instead opting to simply ignore the cup as the time for questions came, allowing her to answer her initial question.
After a moment of listening to a raven-haired woman, her silk gloved hand rose up, the ring adorning it glimmering in the golden light of the cafe. Her carnation colored lips pressed together into a thin smile as she stared straight at this Amaryllis with her uncovered almond shaped eye, the other being covered by a wavy bang.
"Apologies but while I have been wondering that myself, I believe there is another matter that is being overlooked here."
The silky smooth voice rung out of the quiet cafe, sounding strangely polite despite her cold gaze. The purple haired female closed her eyes gently, tilting her head slightly in an almost innocent fashion. If it were not for the vague smell of cigarettes surrounding her as well as her apparent status as a sinner, one said she seemed to be genuinely innocent.
"How come we are unable to remember who were? If we are to begin another life, shouldn't we know what we did wrong?"
The reasoning was a lie.
A ruse one might call it.
Ironic, seeing as that was the thing closest to a name that she could remember.
The true motive was to comprehend whether Ruse was a pawn in this, simply being manipulated to believe she was dead and was able to reborn if she served Amaryllis. After the possibility that this could be fake and these thoughts of her being dead could be drug induced has not been discredited. The thought of becoming a pawn easily caused the burning flames of anger to arise in Ruse yet she managed to restrain herself, keeping a calm and composed demeanor as she awaited her reply patiently. While waiting, she scanned the people around her for any sign of a reaction to her question that would hopefully aid her in uncovering this truth.
It was known as the end of a living being.
Many people were taught to fear it. That it was the inevitable shadow that would come like a shadow, crawling up to you before enveloping you into a deep dark abyss. Or at least that's what pop culture apparently made it seem like if memories served correctly. However, among the various reactions of these apparent sinners, a lavender-haired female standing between them did not seem to react. Rather her expression remained rather monotone, only a few minor details suggesting something else such as a slight clenching in her jaw and a flicker of shock that appeared in her amethyst eyes. After all, for a strange reason she could not explain, she felt the need to hide her shock as this revelation of the announcement of her death. It was believed it was for the better. That did not stop her mind from processing the information as soon her focus became engrossed with one question as she stared at the dark murky surface that supposedly was coffee.
Well, rather two questions. One of them is if this was truly coffee. Despite the scent seeming to resemble that of the bitter drink. It looked as coffee as well. However, she was an unknown place, faced by basically strangers. Deciding to not test her luck, the female came to the conclusion that whether the substance was coffee or not, she shouldn't drink it, instead opting to simply ignore the cup as the time for questions came, allowing her to answer her initial question.
After a moment of listening to a raven-haired woman, her silk gloved hand rose up, the ring adorning it glimmering in the golden light of the cafe. Her carnation colored lips pressed together into a thin smile as she stared straight at this Amaryllis with her uncovered almond shaped eye, the other being covered by a wavy bang.
"Apologies but while I have been wondering that myself, I believe there is another matter that is being overlooked here."
The silky smooth voice rung out of the quiet cafe, sounding strangely polite despite her cold gaze. The purple haired female closed her eyes gently, tilting her head slightly in an almost innocent fashion. If it were not for the vague smell of cigarettes surrounding her as well as her apparent status as a sinner, one said she seemed to be genuinely innocent.
"How come we are unable to remember who were? If we are to begin another life, shouldn't we know what we did wrong?"
The reasoning was a lie.
A ruse one might call it.
Ironic, seeing as that was the thing closest to a name that she could remember.
The true motive was to comprehend whether Ruse was a pawn in this, simply being manipulated to believe she was dead and was able to reborn if she served Amaryllis. After the possibility that this could be fake and these thoughts of her being dead could be drug induced has not been discredited. The thought of becoming a pawn easily caused the burning flames of anger to arise in Ruse yet she managed to restrain herself, keeping a calm and composed demeanor as she awaited her reply patiently. While waiting, she scanned the people around her for any sign of a reaction to her question that would hopefully aid her in uncovering this truth.
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Arcanist
It's always darkest before the dawn
There was a dull pressure lingering in the bespectacled man's head. When he attempted to remember how he had arrived here, his fingers tightened around the frame of his circular glasses, pulling them gently off his face and rubbing them with a small cloth he had found in his pocket. All the while, he attempted to remember the so-called 'sin' he had committed, what his name was...there was a hazy fog clouding his memory. Physically, he could not see anything from his past life. It had seemed that precious knowledge had been locked away for his own good. Or, he hypothesised this bizarre thought, at least. He figured that was allowed, considering the bizarre state of the circumstances he was in. After all, someone told him he was dead, that he was 'on trial' essentially for the crimes he had committed, whatever they were. He had reasons to both believe them and dismiss them.
Watching the blonde set out cups, with a familiar black and frothy liquid crashing against its walls, the man's interest had been piqued. Tucking the cloth back into his pocket, and setting his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, he approached one cup, watching the heat billow upwards. He would have reached out and took the cup of what he wanted to believe was a good cup of joe, but he refrained, knowing it was impolite to simply grab the cup and flee. He would have to introduce himself first. Only fair as the other two women had done the same. That would be difficult though, regarding his name...his name. Once again, it popped up. Did he have a name?
"...Stein," the 'name' tumbling out from his lips. His raised eyebrows couldn't hide the surprise at how it came out. He hadn't thought much on the name before he said it. He played around with the name for several moments, as if testing it out. "Stein. Yes, Stein." He finalised, before he gently lifted the cup he had stopped in front of. It seemed to fit very well to him, but for reasons that the man struggled to remember. He supposed he would have to stick to it, now that he's attached the name to his person.
Stein's dark eyes scanned the rest of the environment he had found himself in. It was quaint enough, not as bustling as any other café he could have landed in. Yet, it held a variety of interesting faces, not one so similar to the other. He wondered what could gather such a batch of 'sinners' in one place, what they had done, where they had all come from...his eyes couldn't stop themselves from cross-examining the faces that happened to be around him.
They then landed on a nearby window. Curious, he sauntered over to the window, sipping his coffee. The taste was bitter, sharp, the water almost burning the roof of Stein's mouth. But he made no physical aversion to it in his expression. He seemed satisfied, the only indication that he was through the hum he made between his lips. His face was otherwise straight, his eyes watching the window with an acute sharpness. He reached it, staring out at the towering buildings that would make even the toughest, tallest man feel like an ant. Stein noticed a young man, hurrying by, his ear pressed to his shoulder - probably on his phone judging by the quick moving mouth and widening eyes - carrying a bundle of papers and coffee. He expected him to give him a glance back, and he waited for it.
None. Stein watched him until he disappeared from his sight. It was odd. Most people would feel such a sharp and lingering stare on them, or would at least glance in at windows, if only for a fleeting moment. Yet, it was like the café didn't exist. Like Stein was never there.
It prompted him to turn to the two women at the counter. "May I ask what this place really is?" He enquired, taking another sip of his coffee, letting the taste burst in his mouth before he let it slip down his throat. "I get the most unsettling feeling that this isn't just a quaint little café as you so claim it to be. It doesn't feel quite real. If we're really dead, and it doesn't seem to be a Heaven or Hell, then it doesn't quite make sense what this place could be for the likes of a dead man like me." Stein commented further, his eyes switching between both Grey and Amaryllis, willing either one of them to answer. Contrary to his words, there wasn't a sense of nervousness in his expression. His lips were thin, straight, his eyes sharp. Stein even stood with one hand in his pocket, cup clutched in the other. The man was surprisingly cool in his stance.
Watching the blonde set out cups, with a familiar black and frothy liquid crashing against its walls, the man's interest had been piqued. Tucking the cloth back into his pocket, and setting his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, he approached one cup, watching the heat billow upwards. He would have reached out and took the cup of what he wanted to believe was a good cup of joe, but he refrained, knowing it was impolite to simply grab the cup and flee. He would have to introduce himself first. Only fair as the other two women had done the same. That would be difficult though, regarding his name...his name. Once again, it popped up. Did he have a name?
"...Stein," the 'name' tumbling out from his lips. His raised eyebrows couldn't hide the surprise at how it came out. He hadn't thought much on the name before he said it. He played around with the name for several moments, as if testing it out. "Stein. Yes, Stein." He finalised, before he gently lifted the cup he had stopped in front of. It seemed to fit very well to him, but for reasons that the man struggled to remember. He supposed he would have to stick to it, now that he's attached the name to his person.
Stein's dark eyes scanned the rest of the environment he had found himself in. It was quaint enough, not as bustling as any other café he could have landed in. Yet, it held a variety of interesting faces, not one so similar to the other. He wondered what could gather such a batch of 'sinners' in one place, what they had done, where they had all come from...his eyes couldn't stop themselves from cross-examining the faces that happened to be around him.
They then landed on a nearby window. Curious, he sauntered over to the window, sipping his coffee. The taste was bitter, sharp, the water almost burning the roof of Stein's mouth. But he made no physical aversion to it in his expression. He seemed satisfied, the only indication that he was through the hum he made between his lips. His face was otherwise straight, his eyes watching the window with an acute sharpness. He reached it, staring out at the towering buildings that would make even the toughest, tallest man feel like an ant. Stein noticed a young man, hurrying by, his ear pressed to his shoulder - probably on his phone judging by the quick moving mouth and widening eyes - carrying a bundle of papers and coffee. He expected him to give him a glance back, and he waited for it.
None. Stein watched him until he disappeared from his sight. It was odd. Most people would feel such a sharp and lingering stare on them, or would at least glance in at windows, if only for a fleeting moment. Yet, it was like the café didn't exist. Like Stein was never there.
It prompted him to turn to the two women at the counter. "May I ask what this place really is?" He enquired, taking another sip of his coffee, letting the taste burst in his mouth before he let it slip down his throat. "I get the most unsettling feeling that this isn't just a quaint little café as you so claim it to be. It doesn't feel quite real. If we're really dead, and it doesn't seem to be a Heaven or Hell, then it doesn't quite make sense what this place could be for the likes of a dead man like me." Stein commented further, his eyes switching between both Grey and Amaryllis, willing either one of them to answer. Contrary to his words, there wasn't a sense of nervousness in his expression. His lips were thin, straight, his eyes sharp. Stein even stood with one hand in his pocket, cup clutched in the other. The man was surprisingly cool in his stance.
The One Eyed Bandit
rotworm
Her eyes hurt. Swimming to consciousness, the first thing that hit the brown haired woman's senses was the brightness of the room around her. Her eyes, entirely unused to such well-lit conditions, squinted as they were filled with the sights of the small, homely-looking cafe. It was enough to stay her tongue and scramble her thoughts for the moment, her scrubbed-clean mind racing to adjust her senses to this foreign place, only half taking in the babbling of the women that claimed themselves to be her hosts.
As her pupils slowly narrowed and adapted to the light, her mind would focus in kind. Despite its efforts, it couldn't recall a single thing; Not how she got here, not why she'd come here, or anything else for that matter. It was like she was the protagonist of a fantasy novel, though she naturally couldn't name any good examples. Instead, it would only summon information that she could only describe as 'foreign'. A name that sounded like it belonged on a web-forum, some annoying sense of duty, an awful reminder of her mortality, and a crippling sense that she was a wrongdoer. Or rather, a Sinner, to put it into the chipper blonde's words.
Ugh. That pissed her off.
It was like someone had been audacious enough to go into her brain and rewire everything for their convenience. Whether it was the blonde, this 'Amaryllis', or whoever the Higher Management was, just the thought of someone deciding what she did and didn't need to know made her want to punch them. But, she figured, physical violence was probably one of the ways that people like that got their kicks, so she stayed her hand.
At this point, her fellow Sinners, her peers so to say, had already started to chirp away every question that popped into their head. What a farce. Were they that desperate to prove their eagerness to their new masters? Were they actually dogs reincarnated into human bodies? Maybe their souls had gotten lost in transition, and the powers that be had scraped up the first replacement that they could. Jokes aside, though, Neat decided that it was best for her not to get involved. For all she knew, this situation was actually the result of some new-age drug, and that coffee was just a disguise for their next dose.
So, ever the contrary young woman, while Neat did take a seat and make herself comfortable, she didn't speak, nor did she touch her drink. At the rate these guys were going, any questions she might have had were probably going to be asked for her, so there was no need for her to do anything as troublesome as making herself known. She got the feeling that she probably wouldn't get along with any of these people anyway.
As her pupils slowly narrowed and adapted to the light, her mind would focus in kind. Despite its efforts, it couldn't recall a single thing; Not how she got here, not why she'd come here, or anything else for that matter. It was like she was the protagonist of a fantasy novel, though she naturally couldn't name any good examples. Instead, it would only summon information that she could only describe as 'foreign'. A name that sounded like it belonged on a web-forum, some annoying sense of duty, an awful reminder of her mortality, and a crippling sense that she was a wrongdoer. Or rather, a Sinner, to put it into the chipper blonde's words.
Ugh. That pissed her off.
It was like someone had been audacious enough to go into her brain and rewire everything for their convenience. Whether it was the blonde, this 'Amaryllis', or whoever the Higher Management was, just the thought of someone deciding what she did and didn't need to know made her want to punch them. But, she figured, physical violence was probably one of the ways that people like that got their kicks, so she stayed her hand.
At this point, her fellow Sinners, her peers so to say, had already started to chirp away every question that popped into their head. What a farce. Were they that desperate to prove their eagerness to their new masters? Were they actually dogs reincarnated into human bodies? Maybe their souls had gotten lost in transition, and the powers that be had scraped up the first replacement that they could. Jokes aside, though, Neat decided that it was best for her not to get involved. For all she knew, this situation was actually the result of some new-age drug, and that coffee was just a disguise for their next dose.
So, ever the contrary young woman, while Neat did take a seat and make herself comfortable, she didn't speak, nor did she touch her drink. At the rate these guys were going, any questions she might have had were probably going to be asked for her, so there was no need for her to do anything as troublesome as making herself known. She got the feeling that she probably wouldn't get along with any of these people anyway.
Exanis
He Who Sees E's
His eyes snapped open, immediately taking in his surroundings, before wincing as he was finally hit with the disconcerting feeling of something... Precious... Missing. It didn't take much longer to realize that it was the distinct lack of any memories before opening his eyes that was giving him this feeling. Barely managing to keep a frown off his face, he took in the words of those around him, and inexplicably, began to plan. In the back of his now empty mind, he wondered what could have drove him to such a habit, but quickly ignored it.
He was a 'Sinner' of some sort, which means he committed some form of crime. He was also dead, and then brought back to life by someone or something called Higher Management. This led him to believe that either his sin was so atrocious that to repent he needed to live a whole other life, or something else was going on here. Or maybe even a mix of both. Another quick glance around the room revealed nothing new. He wasn't the only one in this situation, and apparently none of them had memories. In fact, they didn't seem to have proper names either, instead having something along the lines of a... Nickname? Namesake? Title? Whatever they are, he knew he too had one, if only he could just... Remember?
Raven.
That was his new 'name'. Raven. He put that aside for now, continuing to survey the scene instead. Their new caretaker, Amaryllis, seemed to dislike them. He supposed he could understand why, if your place of business was forced to take care of literal criminals of whatever degree. He made a mental note to not upset her more than she already was, if only to help smooth along this jarring transition, as well as any future conversations.
Absently he wondered why he was so calm about this situation, so easily believing what he was told, only to realize that, in the end, he didn't care either way. Plans were already filling up the empty space in his head, though towards what end, he had no clue. He supposed repentance was the end goal, and for now that seemed well enough, at least until he could figure out more steps, though considering this strange situation, he believed that it would take a while to plan out anything quite... Definitive.
Giving a slight shake of his head to drag himself out of the downward spiral that was self analyzing a veritable amnesiac, Raven silently stepped forward to grab a cup of coffee, sipping at it leisurely. No point in wasting it, if whoever did this was able to do everything that they claimed to do so far, him not drinking a cup of coffee wouldn't throw any wrenches in and of their plans, so he may as well enjoy himself, and continue observing.
He was a 'Sinner' of some sort, which means he committed some form of crime. He was also dead, and then brought back to life by someone or something called Higher Management. This led him to believe that either his sin was so atrocious that to repent he needed to live a whole other life, or something else was going on here. Or maybe even a mix of both. Another quick glance around the room revealed nothing new. He wasn't the only one in this situation, and apparently none of them had memories. In fact, they didn't seem to have proper names either, instead having something along the lines of a... Nickname? Namesake? Title? Whatever they are, he knew he too had one, if only he could just... Remember?
Raven.
That was his new 'name'. Raven. He put that aside for now, continuing to survey the scene instead. Their new caretaker, Amaryllis, seemed to dislike them. He supposed he could understand why, if your place of business was forced to take care of literal criminals of whatever degree. He made a mental note to not upset her more than she already was, if only to help smooth along this jarring transition, as well as any future conversations.
Absently he wondered why he was so calm about this situation, so easily believing what he was told, only to realize that, in the end, he didn't care either way. Plans were already filling up the empty space in his head, though towards what end, he had no clue. He supposed repentance was the end goal, and for now that seemed well enough, at least until he could figure out more steps, though considering this strange situation, he believed that it would take a while to plan out anything quite... Definitive.
Giving a slight shake of his head to drag himself out of the downward spiral that was self analyzing a veritable amnesiac, Raven silently stepped forward to grab a cup of coffee, sipping at it leisurely. No point in wasting it, if whoever did this was able to do everything that they claimed to do so far, him not drinking a cup of coffee wouldn't throw any wrenches in and of their plans, so he may as well enjoy himself, and continue observing.
Necromantic
You faker than some Sweet 'N Low
"... Our memories supposed to be some sort of penance?" He asked as he rubbed his temples, talking to a woman striking fear into his heart for a reason unknown to him. He'd... deal with that later, it was embarassing to admit something like that. He'd concentrate on something else, like his name. Cinderella was an awful name for a man, he had to come up with something else. Regardless, try as he might to come up with something, he couldn't seem to think of anything that felt like a name other than 'Cinderella'. Well, he'd just ask people to call him Cinder if the full name got too annoying. His thoughts moved away from the straight up awful name he'd gotten when he smelled something pleasant, almost homely- coffee. Somehow, he knew he'd hate the coffee if he didn't sweeten it, but considering that it appeared they were in a coffee shop it would probably be easy to find cream, sugar, and possibly chocolate syrup.
Cinderella started to step toward the cups of coffee that had been set out, but vastly over calculated just how well his body would remember to walk. The prosthetic twisted at a bit of an odd angle, making it look as if his ankle had broken, and sent the ginger tumbling forward. In an attempt to not fall on his face, he grabbed the first thing that he could and wrapped both arms around it. It took a moment for the fact that he was tightly hugging himself to a man to click in his head and for him to look up to see just who he was clinging to. The man was tallish, with dark hair and dark eyes.
BriiAngelic
Midrick
She Konrad on my Curze till I Nighthaunt
What the hell just happened, was the first thoughts that echoed in the mind of the tallest of the group standing near a wall. He tried searching his mind for any recollection of what had landed him in this situation, all he could find was a fog and haze, and the knowledge he had died, done something terrible, and was now serving a sentence or paying a penance of some sort. This didn't seem to bother him, rather unsurprising he thought as he searched for anything a name, an origin. He looked at his hands, scarred and discolored, evidence of a history of fighting, this knowledge brought a small smile to his face, along with the scars he noticed tattoos on his arms, USMC on read beneath an insignia, former military, another small victory over his forced amnesia. The boss lady, Amaryllis, revealed to them that they were sinners, basically terrible individuals in a past life and had to do something for some reason. "Christ." he grunted as he leaned one shoulder against the wall. The boss lady didn't like him and these jokes he was with, and he didn't blame her, if He were her would hate them too. That brought another another question up, what was his name? Couldn't answer honestly say, but judging from his appearance he seemed to be a pretty grim guy when he was alive... Grim, he liked it. "So what the hell are we supposed to be doin' anyway boss lady? I dont particularly see a need for a bunch of dead assholes in a cafè."
He surveyed the room, a bunch of misfits they were, seemed like he was stuck with losers from all walks of life, and he was one of these losers. Some skimpy woman was serving coffee, a reflex from before made him scowl, he hated coffee. Someone apparently forgot how to walk and fell into one of the other guys standing, some intellectual looking douche walked over to the window. Some edgey, non conformist looking type moped alone, and two smooth talkers, one in leather and the other finely adorned asked questions. He laughed, it wasn't as quiet as he thought, the absurdity of it all was comical, but in a pathetic way. He knew what he was innately capable of doing to people, his memories might have been gone, but his muscles remembered fine how to cause damage.
He waited for someone to speak up, no doubt his scanning of the room went unnoticed, he felt his eyes seemed dead, but he could feel that there was something underneath, something that would make the persons skin crawl if they caught a glimpse. So he assumed his passive state of being, observing until he decided to let his gaze fall upon the woman named Grey. A malignant smirk replaced his scowl. "Names Grim." he said as his neutral facial expression returned.
He surveyed the room, a bunch of misfits they were, seemed like he was stuck with losers from all walks of life, and he was one of these losers. Some skimpy woman was serving coffee, a reflex from before made him scowl, he hated coffee. Someone apparently forgot how to walk and fell into one of the other guys standing, some intellectual looking douche walked over to the window. Some edgey, non conformist looking type moped alone, and two smooth talkers, one in leather and the other finely adorned asked questions. He laughed, it wasn't as quiet as he thought, the absurdity of it all was comical, but in a pathetic way. He knew what he was innately capable of doing to people, his memories might have been gone, but his muscles remembered fine how to cause damage.
He waited for someone to speak up, no doubt his scanning of the room went unnoticed, he felt his eyes seemed dead, but he could feel that there was something underneath, something that would make the persons skin crawl if they caught a glimpse. So he assumed his passive state of being, observing until he decided to let his gaze fall upon the woman named Grey. A malignant smirk replaced his scowl. "Names Grim." he said as his neutral facial expression returned.
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BriiAngelic
*Willingly Participates in Self Sabotoge*
Interacting With:
Cinderella (
Necromantic
) Amaryllis (
simj26
)
Mentions:
Ruse (
Stitches and Patchwork
) Vixen (
Refaulted
) Stein (
Arcanist
) Gray (Sim)
~The Cafe~
Ghost Memories || Aster’s CS File
Dead huh? Well that’s unfortunate. He spent a moment attempting to remember, well anything, but it seemed a useless effort as he wasn’t even drawing up blanks it was all just gone. While it didn’t concern him quite as much as he felt it should. Still he has the lingering fragments of memory about the deal the woman spoke of, as well as the impression of a name. While he was sure it was not his name it would do, for the purposes of this cafe he would be Aster.
The others seemed interested in asking questions and while he felt the need to jump into this immediately he held back. For one he was semi interested in the coffee that the blonde had promised and another voice told him to sit back and observe the others, wanting to strike at any point of vulnerability.
Already he judged them for their questions. The woman with leather and piercings quite obviously practiced putting her foot in her mouth. The purple haired woman obviously couldn’t see outside her own perspective, calling them out for all losing their memory yet not checking in with the others. Well at least it confirms that it’s not a phenomenon unique to himself. He’d suspected it had happened to the blonde making coffee with her wording but it was always better to be safe than sorry.
He took a gulp of coffee and has never regretted a decision so much before. Well that was disgusting. He wondered if it was just a taste that he disliked or if the woman was bad at making it. He pushed it to the side schooling his face into a blank expression unwilling to let it show just how much he wanted to chase it down with anything else.
Luckily he was distracted as the man down the other side of the counter seemed to ask an intelligent question. He was about to jump in an question some of the titles that Amaryllis had given herself when he’d felt the impact of someone falling into him. He turned instinctively to grab them only to see a man who seemed to have a very broken ankle? For his sake he was hoping that was not bone.
With a strange familiarity he lifted the man up. Well it wasn’t so much he was familiar as the action was. He placed the man on the countertop slightly concerned by the idea that people may jump onto him often.
“You okay? Woulda thought the landlady would have us brought to her in one piece, especially since I don’t imagine we all died peacefully. HEY LANDLADY WHAT’S UP, ANYMORE SURPRISES?”
Lucem
Ten Thousand Club
No thoughts came to mind when he found himself standing. He was simply there. At some point, he hadn't been. But he was now. It was uncomfortably bright, making it difficult to see as he squinted to keep his eyes from burning. Even if he couldn't think straight, he could feel. Although, at that moment, he wished that he couldn't. There was an unbearable weight placed on his chest, as if someone was forcibly pushing down on his ribs. He couldn't move a single muscle, left paralyzed from the neck down. His hands were clenched, two fingers on each curled toward his palms and refusing to relax.
Slowly but surely, he was able to shake off this horrible feeling, rapidly blinking his eyes in an attempt to adjust his blurred vision. One of his previously stunned hands reached for the messy hair on his head and rubbed the pained area in an attempt to get his mind running properly. Unfortunately, nothing really came of it. Even if he could see properly now, everything else was still cloudy.
He had sinned. He had died. Now, he was here, presented with the opportunity for a second chance of sorts. It was vague, but that was all that came to mind. Well, there was also a single word he was able to fish out from his brain, but it wasn't exactly useful. The same feeling that told him to believe in his minimal understanding of the situation was also telling him that the word was his name, or something like that. Although, he really had his doubts about that. Who the hell names their kid "Hush"?
While he couldn't remember anything beyond that, he could at least tell that he had some sort of common sense. If not, his thoughts probably would've been a lot messier. That allowed him to understand that whatever was happening right now definitely wasn't ordinary. Still, that didn't give any details about what led him here, his purpose, or who he was. He didn't have any objects on him either, aside from the clothes that were clearly too big for his body, the dark shirt looking as if it could fall off of his shoulders at any moment.
After a few brief seconds of checking himself over, the voice of the white-haired woman caught his attention. It was then that he became more aware of his surroundings. The room's decor and the strong aroma of coffee tipped him off that he was probably in some sort of café, but he didn't pay attention to that for very long. He was mostly concerned with the presence of other people. He wasn't alone.
Upon noticing the others that had been gathered, he could feel himself shrink, unconsciously trying to become as small as possible. As soon as he became aware of them, he felt a rising discomfort. It was different from the physical sensations that overwhelmed him earlier, but it was no less unpleasant.
One by one, more people began to speak and introduce themselves. He listened, but never kept his eyes on one sinner for too long. His gaze kept shifting, giving everything a careful examination while trying his best not to make eye contact. When he got to the blonde woman, he remained fixated on her for a bit longer. She seemed much cheerier than the one who introduced herself as Amaryllis, but that liveliness made him just as uncomfortable as a harsh attitude. They caused him discomfort for different reasons, but underneath those exteriors, there was a similar vibe between the two that set them apart from the others. Neither of them gave off the same feeling his fellow sinners did. Although, Grey didn't possess that same aura of authority as her companion. Based on what Amaryllis said, she was in control and had all the answers he wanted. Many questions came to mind, but his mind went blank for a moment when that rough and tough tone of hers filled his ears once again. She definitely wasn't someone he wanted to get on the bad side of, so he kept his eyes glued to the floor and decided not to look back in her general direction for a while.
He had a lot of questions, but refrained from voicing any of them. If the other people were like him, they'd be wondering about the same things, so it was pointless to ask himself. He also didn't want to take the risk of opening his mouth and getting on anyone's bad side. Considering how uncomfortable he felt by being around other people, public speaking probably wasn't his forte. Staying silent seemed like the best move for now.
Slowly but surely, he was able to shake off this horrible feeling, rapidly blinking his eyes in an attempt to adjust his blurred vision. One of his previously stunned hands reached for the messy hair on his head and rubbed the pained area in an attempt to get his mind running properly. Unfortunately, nothing really came of it. Even if he could see properly now, everything else was still cloudy.
He had sinned. He had died. Now, he was here, presented with the opportunity for a second chance of sorts. It was vague, but that was all that came to mind. Well, there was also a single word he was able to fish out from his brain, but it wasn't exactly useful. The same feeling that told him to believe in his minimal understanding of the situation was also telling him that the word was his name, or something like that. Although, he really had his doubts about that. Who the hell names their kid "Hush"?
While he couldn't remember anything beyond that, he could at least tell that he had some sort of common sense. If not, his thoughts probably would've been a lot messier. That allowed him to understand that whatever was happening right now definitely wasn't ordinary. Still, that didn't give any details about what led him here, his purpose, or who he was. He didn't have any objects on him either, aside from the clothes that were clearly too big for his body, the dark shirt looking as if it could fall off of his shoulders at any moment.
After a few brief seconds of checking himself over, the voice of the white-haired woman caught his attention. It was then that he became more aware of his surroundings. The room's decor and the strong aroma of coffee tipped him off that he was probably in some sort of café, but he didn't pay attention to that for very long. He was mostly concerned with the presence of other people. He wasn't alone.
Upon noticing the others that had been gathered, he could feel himself shrink, unconsciously trying to become as small as possible. As soon as he became aware of them, he felt a rising discomfort. It was different from the physical sensations that overwhelmed him earlier, but it was no less unpleasant.
One by one, more people began to speak and introduce themselves. He listened, but never kept his eyes on one sinner for too long. His gaze kept shifting, giving everything a careful examination while trying his best not to make eye contact. When he got to the blonde woman, he remained fixated on her for a bit longer. She seemed much cheerier than the one who introduced herself as Amaryllis, but that liveliness made him just as uncomfortable as a harsh attitude. They caused him discomfort for different reasons, but underneath those exteriors, there was a similar vibe between the two that set them apart from the others. Neither of them gave off the same feeling his fellow sinners did. Although, Grey didn't possess that same aura of authority as her companion. Based on what Amaryllis said, she was in control and had all the answers he wanted. Many questions came to mind, but his mind went blank for a moment when that rough and tough tone of hers filled his ears once again. She definitely wasn't someone he wanted to get on the bad side of, so he kept his eyes glued to the floor and decided not to look back in her general direction for a while.
He had a lot of questions, but refrained from voicing any of them. If the other people were like him, they'd be wondering about the same things, so it was pointless to ask himself. He also didn't want to take the risk of opening his mouth and getting on anyone's bad side. Considering how uncomfortable he felt by being around other people, public speaking probably wasn't his forte. Staying silent seemed like the best move for now.
simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
Amaryllis is quick to answer Vixen, almost as if she expected her questions. “Because that door doesn’t go anywhere. Not for you. Your reality and the reality you see outside are two entirely separate entities. If you can succeed in breaking through that door in the first place, I can assure you that all you will find on the other side of that door is an eternity of nothingness. If you’re interested in wandering limbo, unable to touch, feel, taste anything in the millenias to come, then you are, by all means, free to experience it. I kept it locked for a reason, namely for your safety, but I’ll have Grey unlock the door for you if you really, really want to.” At this suggestion, Grey gives a pained expression. Amaryllis’ own dead serious expression does not change- she does not mean her suggestion as a joke or a threat, but a statement of fact. She would do it, and if Grey was too squeamish to deliver, then she would do it herself. “If you want out, I can give you out. You will never return, you will never have another chance. Your soul and your previous life will be lost. The fact that you are here right now is by the good graces of some idiot upstairs making questionable judgement calls. That’s the Higher Management you’re talking about.” She frowns at the name, her brows creasing deeply. “They're not ever coming down here to talk to you, the same as how your CEOs and your head honchos up in your ivory towers will never go to the ground floor to check out the pavement pounders. That’s just how it is. As for the decor and design choices, hellfire and brimstone isn't my style. It’s just not productive and energy efficient.” There is clearly some humor in her tone, but a hint of it seems to imply that she is joking as much as she is serious about what she just said.
The woman turns to the next question, leaving her half-joke to linger in the air. “Your memories of your past life is just the price to pay. The entrance fee, so to speak. A good price, I might add. After all, you don't need those memories weighing you down where you are right now. Remembering just what disgusting acts you perpetrated the life before isn’t important. All you need to know is you’re gonna get that life you always wanted, even if you don’t know what it is. You’ve signed the contract- the fact that you are here means that you have already read the fine print, and you’ve already accepted the terms and conditions, willing to give up everything that you are to become everything that you will be.” A derisive sneer creeps up the dark-skinned woman’s face. “Your sins will disappear, so why even bother remember them in the first place?” Again, she leaves this cryptic message to be her final piece.
She waves dismissively to the one who calls himself Stein. “Ugh, I don't wish to go on about how this place is,” she makes a gesture of air quotes, “‘beyond your mortal ken’ and whatever. As I mentioned, the world outside these walls is real, it is the world that you died in and came from. So is this world that you are in right now, in this café, but this ‘reality’ is not the same as the one outside. Not in the way you think it is. This café is the bridge between both. Simply said, think of that reality as an island, and this as an exact replica of that island…” she pauses and thinks for a while. “Shouldn't it be the other way around?” she mutters to herself, then snaps her fingers in annoyance. “Semantics aside, this café is the bridge between both of these islands, connecting them together. Unfortunately for you, you aren't allowed on that bridge. The people who can cross that bridge are…” she pauses again and thinks for a moment, then glances at her watch. “You will see in a few moments.” She stops there, and addresses the next question without pause.
“Why we need a ‘bunch of dead assholes’ is simple. Because you asked for this. I don't think it bears repeating, but you wanted another go, and someone likes you enough to put me in charge of you.” Without pausing, she turns to Aster as he helped the cripple to his feet. “Here’s a surprise for you- jam it up your ass and shut the fuck up. For starters, it’s not my fault. If you want, I’ll be sure to yell at Higher Management, because I, personally, don't enjoy babysitting cripples either. You wanna take it up with someone, take it up with them. Write a particularly incensed letter or something. It won’t get anything changed, sorry about that, but at least I’ll get to yell at Them.” Amaryllis seems to be taking this with some humor, her dark expression clearing to one of amusement, almost as if she enjoyed putting Higher Management under the grinder. It seems clear that she isn't much for giving Higher Management any ounce of respect.
“Amaryllis.” Grey suddenly pipes up. She points to the door, and the other woman goes quiet immediately. Without a word, she exits from behind the counter, and strides towards the door, her frame just large enough to hide the figure behind the glass. You can hear the tumblers click and Amaryllis opens the door. She steps aside, and a dark-haired girl steps through the threshold. Her appearance is simple, with a black and white hoodie, a pair of jeans, but what stands out most are the bags under her eyes, and a certain…quality about her. Grey does not move from her spot, and watches Amaryllis shut the door, and usher the girl to a seat. The girl does not even react to the Sinners. Instead she quietly sits down at her seat and doesn't say anything for a while. Her hands continue to clutch tightly at a brown envelope in her hands, threatening to nearly crush it. Grey starts to brew another cup of coffee, but Amaryllis stops her with a shake of her head.
“You’ve come to the Velvet Passion for a reason,” Amaryllis starts, her previously snide tone having morphed into one of practiced professionalism, “What do you seek?”
The girl closes her eyes, and tries to find the words to explain herself. It is clear she is tired, and she is struggling to come up with the right words. She finally opens her eyes, and speaks with a low voice. “There is a monster I need you to kill.” She places the envelope on the table. “It may appear as a human, but I need you to believe me. It has already killed, and will kill again.” Her nails dig into her legs as she continues, her face grim. “I heard that the Velvet Passion can accomplish this task. Whoever you are, please help me.”
Amaryllis takes the envelope, and opens it. Removing a picture from the envelope, she scans it, then nods with understanding. “It will be done.”
The girl does not reply, and chooses to attempt to bore a hole into the table in front of her with her eyes. Amaryllis turns and deposits the picture on the table behind her, away from the girl, then slams one hand onto the picture, drawing the attention of all around her to it.
“Sinners, this is your first task. Your job is to find this abhorrent monster and put an end to its life. With this many of you, it ought to be easy. Still, if it’s as fucked up as our client just said it is, then you still should be careful.” She draws her hand away from the picture. “This is your target.”
On the table is a picture of the same girl that had been sitting in the table that is now, when you turn back to it, vacant, as if she had never been there at all. Amaryllis doesn’t seem to even notice her sudden disappearance, and strides on over to a large, conspicuous attache case on another of the tables.
“You ‘dead assholes’ are the clean up crew of…accidents like these. Liquidate a mistake that someone made, retrieve things of varying import to the world’s fate, so and so forth. Right now, you’re here to kill. You like that, don’t you, Sinners? That’s what some of you did in life, whether directly or indirectly, wasn’t it? I suppose you can’t recall that, so you’ll have to take my word for it.” She unlocks the attache case, a dark expression coming over her features, and throws it open, revealing a multitude of weaponry. “Take your pick. Hit Grey up when you’re ready to go. She’ll show you the tricks. I, on the other hand, have your accommodations to tend to.” She straightens up, her expression clearing, then waves to Grey to take over, and makes her quick exit through the backdoor.
The blonde is silent, still looking at the picture in front of her, as if processing her orders, until the back door clicks, upon which she looks up and grins. “And that’s what we’re gonna do!” she chirps. “In case you forgot, I’m Grey! Don’t sweat it, guys, take this as your first job! Everything’s gonna be awwwwright!” She flashes a thumbs up, then sheepishly rubs her neck in embarassment before going about clearing up the coffees that were not taken.
The woman turns to the next question, leaving her half-joke to linger in the air. “Your memories of your past life is just the price to pay. The entrance fee, so to speak. A good price, I might add. After all, you don't need those memories weighing you down where you are right now. Remembering just what disgusting acts you perpetrated the life before isn’t important. All you need to know is you’re gonna get that life you always wanted, even if you don’t know what it is. You’ve signed the contract- the fact that you are here means that you have already read the fine print, and you’ve already accepted the terms and conditions, willing to give up everything that you are to become everything that you will be.” A derisive sneer creeps up the dark-skinned woman’s face. “Your sins will disappear, so why even bother remember them in the first place?” Again, she leaves this cryptic message to be her final piece.
She waves dismissively to the one who calls himself Stein. “Ugh, I don't wish to go on about how this place is,” she makes a gesture of air quotes, “‘beyond your mortal ken’ and whatever. As I mentioned, the world outside these walls is real, it is the world that you died in and came from. So is this world that you are in right now, in this café, but this ‘reality’ is not the same as the one outside. Not in the way you think it is. This café is the bridge between both. Simply said, think of that reality as an island, and this as an exact replica of that island…” she pauses and thinks for a while. “Shouldn't it be the other way around?” she mutters to herself, then snaps her fingers in annoyance. “Semantics aside, this café is the bridge between both of these islands, connecting them together. Unfortunately for you, you aren't allowed on that bridge. The people who can cross that bridge are…” she pauses again and thinks for a moment, then glances at her watch. “You will see in a few moments.” She stops there, and addresses the next question without pause.
“Why we need a ‘bunch of dead assholes’ is simple. Because you asked for this. I don't think it bears repeating, but you wanted another go, and someone likes you enough to put me in charge of you.” Without pausing, she turns to Aster as he helped the cripple to his feet. “Here’s a surprise for you- jam it up your ass and shut the fuck up. For starters, it’s not my fault. If you want, I’ll be sure to yell at Higher Management, because I, personally, don't enjoy babysitting cripples either. You wanna take it up with someone, take it up with them. Write a particularly incensed letter or something. It won’t get anything changed, sorry about that, but at least I’ll get to yell at Them.” Amaryllis seems to be taking this with some humor, her dark expression clearing to one of amusement, almost as if she enjoyed putting Higher Management under the grinder. It seems clear that she isn't much for giving Higher Management any ounce of respect.
“Amaryllis.” Grey suddenly pipes up. She points to the door, and the other woman goes quiet immediately. Without a word, she exits from behind the counter, and strides towards the door, her frame just large enough to hide the figure behind the glass. You can hear the tumblers click and Amaryllis opens the door. She steps aside, and a dark-haired girl steps through the threshold. Her appearance is simple, with a black and white hoodie, a pair of jeans, but what stands out most are the bags under her eyes, and a certain…quality about her. Grey does not move from her spot, and watches Amaryllis shut the door, and usher the girl to a seat. The girl does not even react to the Sinners. Instead she quietly sits down at her seat and doesn't say anything for a while. Her hands continue to clutch tightly at a brown envelope in her hands, threatening to nearly crush it. Grey starts to brew another cup of coffee, but Amaryllis stops her with a shake of her head.
“You’ve come to the Velvet Passion for a reason,” Amaryllis starts, her previously snide tone having morphed into one of practiced professionalism, “What do you seek?”
The girl closes her eyes, and tries to find the words to explain herself. It is clear she is tired, and she is struggling to come up with the right words. She finally opens her eyes, and speaks with a low voice. “There is a monster I need you to kill.” She places the envelope on the table. “It may appear as a human, but I need you to believe me. It has already killed, and will kill again.” Her nails dig into her legs as she continues, her face grim. “I heard that the Velvet Passion can accomplish this task. Whoever you are, please help me.”
Amaryllis takes the envelope, and opens it. Removing a picture from the envelope, she scans it, then nods with understanding. “It will be done.”
The girl does not reply, and chooses to attempt to bore a hole into the table in front of her with her eyes. Amaryllis turns and deposits the picture on the table behind her, away from the girl, then slams one hand onto the picture, drawing the attention of all around her to it.
“Sinners, this is your first task. Your job is to find this abhorrent monster and put an end to its life. With this many of you, it ought to be easy. Still, if it’s as fucked up as our client just said it is, then you still should be careful.” She draws her hand away from the picture. “This is your target.”
On the table is a picture of the same girl that had been sitting in the table that is now, when you turn back to it, vacant, as if she had never been there at all. Amaryllis doesn’t seem to even notice her sudden disappearance, and strides on over to a large, conspicuous attache case on another of the tables.“You ‘dead assholes’ are the clean up crew of…accidents like these. Liquidate a mistake that someone made, retrieve things of varying import to the world’s fate, so and so forth. Right now, you’re here to kill. You like that, don’t you, Sinners? That’s what some of you did in life, whether directly or indirectly, wasn’t it? I suppose you can’t recall that, so you’ll have to take my word for it.” She unlocks the attache case, a dark expression coming over her features, and throws it open, revealing a multitude of weaponry. “Take your pick. Hit Grey up when you’re ready to go. She’ll show you the tricks. I, on the other hand, have your accommodations to tend to.” She straightens up, her expression clearing, then waves to Grey to take over, and makes her quick exit through the backdoor.
The blonde is silent, still looking at the picture in front of her, as if processing her orders, until the back door clicks, upon which she looks up and grins. “And that’s what we’re gonna do!” she chirps. “In case you forgot, I’m Grey! Don’t sweat it, guys, take this as your first job! Everything’s gonna be awwwwright!” She flashes a thumbs up, then sheepishly rubs her neck in embarassment before going about clearing up the coffees that were not taken.
Arcanist
It's always darkest before the dawn
All this information that came out after each question was answered...it was enough to make Stein's head hurt. His upper lip twinged with each piece of information he attempted to take in. And that was even before Amaryllis had gotten to him, and answered his question. His eyes turned back to the window, showing the skyscrapers, the dull pavements and streets winding through the business district. The world outside...was real. And yet here he was, on an 'island' or at least reverse to Amaryllis's musings. Here he was, a spectator to the world whilst being completely separate to it. How absolutely fascinating. The very concept of a café being almost other worldly was fascinating, when it really should be unsettling. Stein supposed that was just how he was.
The man then watched a young girl shuffle into the café. Was this the 'you'll see' moment Amaryllis spoke of? He stood still, his eyes landing sharply on the younger girl. The exchange interested him greatly. For several moments, he was afraid to blink dare he miss something if importance. He strained slightly to hear their conversation, what the girl was really here for. There was a feeling inside Stein. Like he remembered a part of him with his staring. Usually, by now, people would notice such a sharp, unmoving stare on their figure. Anyone would. Yet, there wasn't a stare around at Stein, or any other Sinner for that matter. She just stared into the table, unflinching. Unmoving.
Then there was a loud smack. Naturally, Stein's eyes turned towards the table nearby, a picture on the table. He wandered over to it, but stayed at a distance where he could peer at it. He raised his eyebrows at it, recognising the girl. This...was the monster? He raised his eyes to the girl sitting at the other table...only to find she had disappeared. He blinked for a few moments. He didn't seem phased, yet, on the inside his mind was working through all of what he had witnessed. Stein shook his head. The dull pain came back even thinking of such things.
As he attempted to take in all that happened, the…weapons they would use, Stein turned his attention elsewhere. Then, his eyes seemed to stick to one of the Sinners. A young man - or at least young on first glance - with hair practically falling all around his face and eyes, sitting on the counter, having been previously lifted up by another man with dark hair. The sheer strength of the man should have been enough to surprise him; yet, he found the man's twisted leg to be of a completely different concern. Slowly, he approached him, staring at his leg all the while. He felt this feeling well up inside of him. Sure, it was common knowledge legs don't bend like that. But it was an innate curiosity that swelled inside Stein. A thirst to know.
Stein stopped in front of the man, staring between him and the leg for a few moments. "Your leg," he started, almost in a casual tone of voice. "Let me look at it. Looks like it's seen better days." Though, he never waited for an answer or even permission, and squatted down in front of him, his hands already wandering down around his leg, and his ankle. Somehow, his fingers danced along with precision, with the confidence of a professional. Stein didn't seem to be very surprised at that, and rather took it in his stride.
As his fingers trailed along, he realised this was no ordinary leg. It felt oddly firm. Firmer than a leg should do. Perhaps it needed amputated. Blinking, he found he had an idea. Stein leaned in closer, and closing his hand into a fist, knocked on the leg. There was an odd clanking sound. Somehow, Stein couldn't help but chuckle at that, his eyes twinkling at the discovery.
"I know what your problem is," Stein looked up at the young man with a grin, still squatting down by his leg. By the look on his face, you would have thought he had struck gold, found the Titanic, discovered the cure for the worst disease in the entire world. "You've got a prosthetic leg. Not an ordinary one, mind you. Sounds expensive..." Stein rubbed his jaw, chuckling to himself.
Necromantic
The man then watched a young girl shuffle into the café. Was this the 'you'll see' moment Amaryllis spoke of? He stood still, his eyes landing sharply on the younger girl. The exchange interested him greatly. For several moments, he was afraid to blink dare he miss something if importance. He strained slightly to hear their conversation, what the girl was really here for. There was a feeling inside Stein. Like he remembered a part of him with his staring. Usually, by now, people would notice such a sharp, unmoving stare on their figure. Anyone would. Yet, there wasn't a stare around at Stein, or any other Sinner for that matter. She just stared into the table, unflinching. Unmoving.
Then there was a loud smack. Naturally, Stein's eyes turned towards the table nearby, a picture on the table. He wandered over to it, but stayed at a distance where he could peer at it. He raised his eyebrows at it, recognising the girl. This...was the monster? He raised his eyes to the girl sitting at the other table...only to find she had disappeared. He blinked for a few moments. He didn't seem phased, yet, on the inside his mind was working through all of what he had witnessed. Stein shook his head. The dull pain came back even thinking of such things.
As he attempted to take in all that happened, the…weapons they would use, Stein turned his attention elsewhere. Then, his eyes seemed to stick to one of the Sinners. A young man - or at least young on first glance - with hair practically falling all around his face and eyes, sitting on the counter, having been previously lifted up by another man with dark hair. The sheer strength of the man should have been enough to surprise him; yet, he found the man's twisted leg to be of a completely different concern. Slowly, he approached him, staring at his leg all the while. He felt this feeling well up inside of him. Sure, it was common knowledge legs don't bend like that. But it was an innate curiosity that swelled inside Stein. A thirst to know.
Stein stopped in front of the man, staring between him and the leg for a few moments. "Your leg," he started, almost in a casual tone of voice. "Let me look at it. Looks like it's seen better days." Though, he never waited for an answer or even permission, and squatted down in front of him, his hands already wandering down around his leg, and his ankle. Somehow, his fingers danced along with precision, with the confidence of a professional. Stein didn't seem to be very surprised at that, and rather took it in his stride.
As his fingers trailed along, he realised this was no ordinary leg. It felt oddly firm. Firmer than a leg should do. Perhaps it needed amputated. Blinking, he found he had an idea. Stein leaned in closer, and closing his hand into a fist, knocked on the leg. There was an odd clanking sound. Somehow, Stein couldn't help but chuckle at that, his eyes twinkling at the discovery.
"I know what your problem is," Stein looked up at the young man with a grin, still squatting down by his leg. By the look on his face, you would have thought he had struck gold, found the Titanic, discovered the cure for the worst disease in the entire world. "You've got a prosthetic leg. Not an ordinary one, mind you. Sounds expensive..." Stein rubbed his jaw, chuckling to himself.
Necromantic
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Stitches and Patchwork
The Cheese Knees
~Ruse~
Mentions: Basically everyone to be honest... so YEH!
No one made any sort of objection to Ruse's question, seeming to confirm this amnesia was not simply specific for her. Or they were a bit distracted with their own business such as the many questions the bespectacled male next to her had, the need for a rough sounding masculine voice to come from the back of the cafe and introduce himself as Grimm, and, judging by the clattering and comments coming from behind her, the fact that someone had fallen over.
The female did not have to ponder over these possibilities for long however as Amaryllis confirmed this along with a large information dump. Ruse made a small smile in return for the answer to her question, seeming perfectly satisfied with that explanation. However inside was quite the opposite. The answer rather made her even more intrigued in solving the mystery that was why she exactly was here. Why did she feel so many needs and urges that built up the personality of someone who has lived well... a life? Why was she draped in such elegant clothing? Not to mention the others. Ruse found herself less interested in their stories but there was still the question hovering there, lingering above every one of them as she glanced over her shoulder in a smooth movement, her violet eyes observing each and every one of them with a calculating gaze.
Who was everyone and why were they here?
Ruse seemed to end her observation quickly however, deciding examination would be better to perform when she was not being fed the information that Amaryllis was crudely spouting out. It did leave many questions and suspicions, along with a small grimace or two at the unnecessary use of curses yet it was information nonetheless. Better than being a simple clueless damsel, wandering this cafe aimlessly. So her eyes trailed to the dark-skinned female, listening to her rant and snap with a neutral expression as she sat in her chair straight up, her hands folded in her lap and eyes wide and interested, seeming to be fully engrossed in what Amaryllis and showing her utmost respect to what she considered, her only source of information... unfortunately.
And then the brunette girl came in. And soon a mission was placed in front of all of them. To kill a monster.
Amaryllis seemed to leave right after that, leaving the group to their own devices.
Ruse sighed, the look of respect seeming to simply melt off her face with the neutral expression of a strategist, seeming deep in thought as she attempted to absorb more information on their situation. Well, they were going to kill someone. Extremely abhorrent but if that was how she would be getting actual answers to her questions, or at least a way out of here, so be it. The question was who?
The lavender haired female seemed to ignore Grey, only making a small hum in reply to her announcement as she instead stood up, waltzing towards the photo that Amaryllis oh so harshly slammed her hand onto. Her narrow eyes gazed at the photo, attempting to memorize every detail. She stood there for a few minutes in silence as her arms crossed over her chest. So this was their target. Certainly could not be difficult to kill. Especially considering their situation, it could be probably that they would not to worry about being caught by any officials. However, this standing around was certainly beginning to eat at her. The sooner they begin the better.
"As interesting as chatter about prosthetic legs sound and such, I believe we still have a murder to commit."
Ruse announced, knowing exactly what was being talked about between the bespectacled man from before and the male who fallen over despite seeming to be too engrossed in the photo to actually care. She turned, that thin smile painting her lips once again as she charismatically smiled at her "teammates" while walking towards the weapons.
"Apologies if I do sound bossy but I'm certain, seeing as we are all here, that we'd like to get to our new lives as soon as possible. So I suggest we begin getting prepared to get going with this mission as soon as possible."
Ruse continued, her voice laced with sugary sweetness and elegance that was not exactly befitting of a wretched soul. Especially considering how she was glancing between them and the various weapons, her gloved hands seeming to go over every one of them before settling on a whip, taking it gently out of the case. A powerful weapon she could use from a distance. Not to mention one that could legitimize authority, if that was required. Nonetheless, she kept her sweet smile as she fully turned to the group.
"Any objections?"
Mentions: Basically everyone to be honest... so YEH!
No one made any sort of objection to Ruse's question, seeming to confirm this amnesia was not simply specific for her. Or they were a bit distracted with their own business such as the many questions the bespectacled male next to her had, the need for a rough sounding masculine voice to come from the back of the cafe and introduce himself as Grimm, and, judging by the clattering and comments coming from behind her, the fact that someone had fallen over.
The female did not have to ponder over these possibilities for long however as Amaryllis confirmed this along with a large information dump. Ruse made a small smile in return for the answer to her question, seeming perfectly satisfied with that explanation. However inside was quite the opposite. The answer rather made her even more intrigued in solving the mystery that was why she exactly was here. Why did she feel so many needs and urges that built up the personality of someone who has lived well... a life? Why was she draped in such elegant clothing? Not to mention the others. Ruse found herself less interested in their stories but there was still the question hovering there, lingering above every one of them as she glanced over her shoulder in a smooth movement, her violet eyes observing each and every one of them with a calculating gaze.
Who was everyone and why were they here?
Ruse seemed to end her observation quickly however, deciding examination would be better to perform when she was not being fed the information that Amaryllis was crudely spouting out. It did leave many questions and suspicions, along with a small grimace or two at the unnecessary use of curses yet it was information nonetheless. Better than being a simple clueless damsel, wandering this cafe aimlessly. So her eyes trailed to the dark-skinned female, listening to her rant and snap with a neutral expression as she sat in her chair straight up, her hands folded in her lap and eyes wide and interested, seeming to be fully engrossed in what Amaryllis and showing her utmost respect to what she considered, her only source of information... unfortunately.
And then the brunette girl came in. And soon a mission was placed in front of all of them. To kill a monster.
Amaryllis seemed to leave right after that, leaving the group to their own devices.
Ruse sighed, the look of respect seeming to simply melt off her face with the neutral expression of a strategist, seeming deep in thought as she attempted to absorb more information on their situation. Well, they were going to kill someone. Extremely abhorrent but if that was how she would be getting actual answers to her questions, or at least a way out of here, so be it. The question was who?
The lavender haired female seemed to ignore Grey, only making a small hum in reply to her announcement as she instead stood up, waltzing towards the photo that Amaryllis oh so harshly slammed her hand onto. Her narrow eyes gazed at the photo, attempting to memorize every detail. She stood there for a few minutes in silence as her arms crossed over her chest. So this was their target. Certainly could not be difficult to kill. Especially considering their situation, it could be probably that they would not to worry about being caught by any officials. However, this standing around was certainly beginning to eat at her. The sooner they begin the better.
"As interesting as chatter about prosthetic legs sound and such, I believe we still have a murder to commit."
Ruse announced, knowing exactly what was being talked about between the bespectacled man from before and the male who fallen over despite seeming to be too engrossed in the photo to actually care. She turned, that thin smile painting her lips once again as she charismatically smiled at her "teammates" while walking towards the weapons.
"Apologies if I do sound bossy but I'm certain, seeing as we are all here, that we'd like to get to our new lives as soon as possible. So I suggest we begin getting prepared to get going with this mission as soon as possible."
Ruse continued, her voice laced with sugary sweetness and elegance that was not exactly befitting of a wretched soul. Especially considering how she was glancing between them and the various weapons, her gloved hands seeming to go over every one of them before settling on a whip, taking it gently out of the case. A powerful weapon she could use from a distance. Not to mention one that could legitimize authority, if that was required. Nonetheless, she kept her sweet smile as she fully turned to the group.
"Any objections?"
Necromantic
You faker than some Sweet 'N Low
Cinderella
Oh, God, this was fucking embarrassing. Cinderella hadn't even managed to take one step before he fell on the nearest person. Thankfully, the man didn't seem upset about what had happened and even caught him. Still, Cinderella's face flushed a bright red as what he'd done truly registered in his head. That's it, he'd ruined his greeting, he'd never be able to come back from something like this, it was time to kill himself for a second time. A noose would probably do the trick, right? Not a painless death, but it'd be quick enough. Then, he wouldn't have to live with this sha-
"Hmmm?" Cinderella hummed in confusion as he was lifted off of his feet, pulling out of his internal melodrama. Oh, the man he'd fallen on had decided to put him on the counter, presumably so that he didn't fall again. "Uhm, yeah, I feel perfectly fine. I think I actually am in one piece, my leg doesn't hurt. Sorry, I don't normally fall for an attractive guy immediately after meeting him, but I can make an exception for you," Cinderella replied playfully, grinning at the man.
"Oh, you probably need my name, don't you? If we're all stuck together... I'm Cinderella! Don't know who thought to give a man that name, but it's what I got. You?"
Cinderella looked at Amaryllis, but decided against watching her when he felt fear start welling up inside up him. It wasn't because he found what she said frightening, he hadn't felt anything until he looked at her. What was this? Why was looking at her what bothered him? And then, when a woman walked into the cafe, he felt the same deep-rooted fear begin to grow in his chest. Why could he feel his heart rate pick up and hands start to tremble anytime he saw... a woman? He barely managed to catch what they said, but he got the gist.
He wasn't stuck pondering this fear for too long, as another man with glasses quickly tore his attention away by demanding to see his leg and, without even waiting for an answer, starting to feel his leg. The bright blush returned to Cinderella's face despite the fact that he couldn't very well feel him fondling his leg. Then the man with glasses leaned in close to his leg and hit it with his fist, and Cinderella thought his heart might just explode. There was a man, squatting down in front of him, fondling his leg. This seemed like it was worlds away from any kind of situation that should be happening on a cafe countertop.
"I don't think it being a prosthetic is a problem, I'm pretty sure whatever force brought us here put on incorrectly! They're not supposed to be sideways, you know!" Cinderella snapped, though his voice was only sharp because he was flustered and not because he was angry. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, which was essentially his best attempt at hiding the fact that he was highly embarrassed. "I-If you're going to feel my leg like that, why don't you do something useful and straighten it out? It's below my knee, so you it shouldn't be too hard. Don't haft'a go the extra mile and feel my thigh. Again, his words were snappy, but the edge was kind of taken away by the fact that he was pulling his hat down in an attempt to hide his face.
He wasn't taking his impromptu checkup very well, clearly.
He glared at the woman with purple hair as she made a comment about his situation. Despite the fact that he could still feel that fear growing in him, the anger he felt seemed to overpower it. "How about you eat your own shit? You have plenty coming out your mouth already. I don't really want to go into this situation unable to walk, so unless you're planning on carrying me, you can calm your tits and wait a minute." Who the fuck did she think she was, telling somebody who was clearly crippled that? A somewhat sad sigh escaped him as he started rolling up his pantleg.
Oh, God, this was fucking embarrassing. Cinderella hadn't even managed to take one step before he fell on the nearest person. Thankfully, the man didn't seem upset about what had happened and even caught him. Still, Cinderella's face flushed a bright red as what he'd done truly registered in his head. That's it, he'd ruined his greeting, he'd never be able to come back from something like this, it was time to kill himself for a second time. A noose would probably do the trick, right? Not a painless death, but it'd be quick enough. Then, he wouldn't have to live with this sha-
"Hmmm?" Cinderella hummed in confusion as he was lifted off of his feet, pulling out of his internal melodrama. Oh, the man he'd fallen on had decided to put him on the counter, presumably so that he didn't fall again. "Uhm, yeah, I feel perfectly fine. I think I actually am in one piece, my leg doesn't hurt. Sorry, I don't normally fall for an attractive guy immediately after meeting him, but I can make an exception for you," Cinderella replied playfully, grinning at the man.
"Oh, you probably need my name, don't you? If we're all stuck together... I'm Cinderella! Don't know who thought to give a man that name, but it's what I got. You?"
Cinderella looked at Amaryllis, but decided against watching her when he felt fear start welling up inside up him. It wasn't because he found what she said frightening, he hadn't felt anything until he looked at her. What was this? Why was looking at her what bothered him? And then, when a woman walked into the cafe, he felt the same deep-rooted fear begin to grow in his chest. Why could he feel his heart rate pick up and hands start to tremble anytime he saw... a woman? He barely managed to catch what they said, but he got the gist.
He wasn't stuck pondering this fear for too long, as another man with glasses quickly tore his attention away by demanding to see his leg and, without even waiting for an answer, starting to feel his leg. The bright blush returned to Cinderella's face despite the fact that he couldn't very well feel him fondling his leg. Then the man with glasses leaned in close to his leg and hit it with his fist, and Cinderella thought his heart might just explode. There was a man, squatting down in front of him, fondling his leg. This seemed like it was worlds away from any kind of situation that should be happening on a cafe countertop.
"I don't think it being a prosthetic is a problem, I'm pretty sure whatever force brought us here put on incorrectly! They're not supposed to be sideways, you know!" Cinderella snapped, though his voice was only sharp because he was flustered and not because he was angry. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, which was essentially his best attempt at hiding the fact that he was highly embarrassed. "I-If you're going to feel my leg like that, why don't you do something useful and straighten it out? It's below my knee, so you it shouldn't be too hard. Don't haft'a go the extra mile and feel my thigh. Again, his words were snappy, but the edge was kind of taken away by the fact that he was pulling his hat down in an attempt to hide his face.
He wasn't taking his impromptu checkup very well, clearly.
He glared at the woman with purple hair as she made a comment about his situation. Despite the fact that he could still feel that fear growing in him, the anger he felt seemed to overpower it. "How about you eat your own shit? You have plenty coming out your mouth already. I don't really want to go into this situation unable to walk, so unless you're planning on carrying me, you can calm your tits and wait a minute." Who the fuck did she think she was, telling somebody who was clearly crippled that? A somewhat sad sigh escaped him as he started rolling up his pantleg.
The One Eyed Bandit
rotworm
This rabbit hole just kept getting deeper and deeper. While the others went about establishing their comedy routines and pecking orders, Neat stayed as glumly sat in her seat as she had before. By all means, everything that what coming out of everyone's mouth should have sounded like nonsense. An endless string of gobbledygook that made her feel like she'd stumbled into a chuuni cafe without realizing it. But their client, Amaryllis, and the muddled mess of memories that called itself her brain was enough to keep her on edge.
At this point she figured that everyone in this room was either dangerously insane, or completely legit, both of which were options that she didn't exactly want to take lightly.
Pushing her contemplation aside for the moment, Neat left her seat and paced over to the spread of armaments that'd been left out for them. The sight she was met with only confirmed her worries. Forget a meeting of chuunis, it only took a glance and half to tell that these things were legit. Swords, guns, bats, and weapons galore littered the table, silently gleaming away as if they were trying to win a best of show award. As her eyes scrolled across that beautiful assortment, her suspicion slowly begun to turn into nervousness. Whoever she was in life, she was pretty confident that it wasn't someone who did a lot of fighting, if any. Not a single spark of recognition flickered in her mind as she mulled over her choices.
At the very least, it only took a mild tensing of her arms to rule anything that needed her to swing it out of the picture; and, furthering that line of thought, it'd probably be best if she also avoided anything that'd be heavy... Or hard to carry... Or...
She nodded to herself as she came to a decision, and took the most reliable-looking handgun she could find from the case. She hadn't the slightest clue about the device, but as it sat cold and heavy in her hand, something about it felt 'right'. If nothing else, spitting lead was certainly a much safer option than getting up close and personal, and despite herself, Neat could definitely feel her now-forgotten inner child smiling in glee.
Not that she'd let it show on her face.
After a few moments of getting comfortable with, or maybe just playing with, her new weapon, Neat turned to Amaryllis's lapdog, Grey if she recalled correctly, and moved to her side. The girl certainly didn't have the look of a dangerous person, but how good a judge of character could and amnesiac really be?
"Ready." She spoke, flatly and without warning, before settling in behind the girl to wait for everyone else to finish up with... Whatever it was that they were doing.
simj26
At this point she figured that everyone in this room was either dangerously insane, or completely legit, both of which were options that she didn't exactly want to take lightly.
Pushing her contemplation aside for the moment, Neat left her seat and paced over to the spread of armaments that'd been left out for them. The sight she was met with only confirmed her worries. Forget a meeting of chuunis, it only took a glance and half to tell that these things were legit. Swords, guns, bats, and weapons galore littered the table, silently gleaming away as if they were trying to win a best of show award. As her eyes scrolled across that beautiful assortment, her suspicion slowly begun to turn into nervousness. Whoever she was in life, she was pretty confident that it wasn't someone who did a lot of fighting, if any. Not a single spark of recognition flickered in her mind as she mulled over her choices.
At the very least, it only took a mild tensing of her arms to rule anything that needed her to swing it out of the picture; and, furthering that line of thought, it'd probably be best if she also avoided anything that'd be heavy... Or hard to carry... Or...
She nodded to herself as she came to a decision, and took the most reliable-looking handgun she could find from the case. She hadn't the slightest clue about the device, but as it sat cold and heavy in her hand, something about it felt 'right'. If nothing else, spitting lead was certainly a much safer option than getting up close and personal, and despite herself, Neat could definitely feel her now-forgotten inner child smiling in glee.
Not that she'd let it show on her face.
After a few moments of getting comfortable with, or maybe just playing with, her new weapon, Neat turned to Amaryllis's lapdog, Grey if she recalled correctly, and moved to her side. The girl certainly didn't have the look of a dangerous person, but how good a judge of character could and amnesiac really be?
"Ready." She spoke, flatly and without warning, before settling in behind the girl to wait for everyone else to finish up with... Whatever it was that they were doing.
simj26
Arcanist
It's always darkest before the dawn
Stein had been too engrossed in his examination of the prosthetic to take into the consideration the blush rising on Cinderella's face. In fact, the man's flustering, though extremely well hidden, didn't seem to perturb Stein at all in his work. The man pushed his frames further up his nose at Cinderella's cutting words, but there was an amused smirk playing on his lips. "The patient's always right, I suppose," he chuckled, waiting for the man to roll up his pantsleg for him to take a look. He wasn't quite sure why he referred to Cinderella as his patient. He supposed this was almost like some medical examination, after all.
As he was waiting, he listened to the purple haired female of the group. She had a sweetness in her voice, too sugary for his liking. He had gathered from the undertone that she wished to establish dominance among them in the room. Stein raised an eyebrow at the woman lifting a whip, staring at it fondly like it was an old acquaintance. Stein snorted to himself. It was laughably predictable.
He decided to pique up then, after Cinderella's scathing protest to her, as he began to work with the prosthetic on his leg to readjust it. "I have a question, if you'll take it," Stein began, pursing his lip for a moment as he worked to take off the prosthetic, before turning it round that the foot faced forward rather than sideways. "If we were to object, would you use that whip to put us in our place?" Stein chuckled a little, attaching the prosthetic correctly once again.
"And Cinderelly here is right. He won't be much help stumbling along with his ankle pointing south. Or, east. Or west, on that thought..." He mumbled more to himself, a smile of bemusement playing on his lips. After making sure the contraption wouldn't fall off Cinderella's leg, as if he had done this several times before his untimely - or perhaps timely - death, he pulled his hands back, admiring his good work.
"But it seems our good man is fit and ready to jump into the field. So, no need to be cracking that whip of yours." Stein smirked, before he glanced over at the weapons case. He found himself wandering over to it, his eyes scanning the array of weapons at their disposal. When his eyes finally stopped on a scythe, he couldn't seem to bring his gaze away from it. Something of the sheen of the blade, the very sharpness, it gave him some sort of elation. But, not showing such joy, he lifted it out calmly. The way the scythe was designed, it looked shorter than it should have. After some inspection, he grabbed the neck of the stath and pulled at the bottom, revealing its hidden, longer length.
"Found mine." Stein finalised with a smirk.
Necromantic
Stitches and Patchwork
As he was waiting, he listened to the purple haired female of the group. She had a sweetness in her voice, too sugary for his liking. He had gathered from the undertone that she wished to establish dominance among them in the room. Stein raised an eyebrow at the woman lifting a whip, staring at it fondly like it was an old acquaintance. Stein snorted to himself. It was laughably predictable.
He decided to pique up then, after Cinderella's scathing protest to her, as he began to work with the prosthetic on his leg to readjust it. "I have a question, if you'll take it," Stein began, pursing his lip for a moment as he worked to take off the prosthetic, before turning it round that the foot faced forward rather than sideways. "If we were to object, would you use that whip to put us in our place?" Stein chuckled a little, attaching the prosthetic correctly once again.
"And Cinderelly here is right. He won't be much help stumbling along with his ankle pointing south. Or, east. Or west, on that thought..." He mumbled more to himself, a smile of bemusement playing on his lips. After making sure the contraption wouldn't fall off Cinderella's leg, as if he had done this several times before his untimely - or perhaps timely - death, he pulled his hands back, admiring his good work.
"But it seems our good man is fit and ready to jump into the field. So, no need to be cracking that whip of yours." Stein smirked, before he glanced over at the weapons case. He found himself wandering over to it, his eyes scanning the array of weapons at their disposal. When his eyes finally stopped on a scythe, he couldn't seem to bring his gaze away from it. Something of the sheen of the blade, the very sharpness, it gave him some sort of elation. But, not showing such joy, he lifted it out calmly. The way the scythe was designed, it looked shorter than it should have. After some inspection, he grabbed the neck of the stath and pulled at the bottom, revealing its hidden, longer length.
"Found mine." Stein finalised with a smirk.
Necromantic
Stitches and Patchwork
Exanis
He Who Sees E's
Raven took in this influx of new knowledge with a calm grace that was reflected by the neutral, if not slightly serene, look on his face, only furthered by the fact at how he so lackadaisically finished his coffee as the events were proceeding. The cafe they were in happened to be outside of conventional reality, and if he so happened to want to end it all in what seemed to be one of the most horrific ways to spend his existence, then all he had to do was ask his ever so benevolent caretaker to open the door and an oblivion of eternal wandering awaited him. In a word, wonderful. On top of that, their jobs, as in the Sinners, were to be glorified clean-up crews for some, apparently(?), supernatural and/or mystical fuck-ups. In another word, outstanding. Still, as he had looked upon the tired looking girl, only to find her gone only moments after he took his eyes off her, and then told he had to go and kill her, or at least someone that looked like her? Well, the word that came to mind this time was, expected.
That wasn't even taking into account the by-play going on by the one named Stein and the unfortunately named Cinderella. Knowing what he does now, having a member with a prosthetic leg seems to be a disadvantage to say the least. Nevertheless, he might have some hidden talents that could prove useful. A doubtful possibility, but a possibility nonetheless. The man named Stein seemed to have some inkling of medical knowledge, however diluted and faded that may be with their memories gone, but it was always good to have.
His biggest concern, however, was the woman who seems to be trying to put herself as the leader of this little group. Amusing to watch, especially considering how not only is it not working, but she simply doesn't have the commanding presence, at least not as of now. Sure, she seems charismatic, but only just that. No power behind her words, and even her little threat with the whip she picked out was empty and meaningless. He got this feeling that he was used to dealing with people like her all too often, and most likely had faced much greater threats than what she could pose. No, in the end his concern wasn't because of what she can do now, but of what she could do in the future. He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on her.
Analysis of the recent events aside, Raven stepped forward, shortly after Stein went and picked up the literal implement of death, to plethora of weapons and began sifting through them. Truly, the amount of variety was as astonishing as it was deadly. He rummaged through the arms, shifting aside a knife here, a gun there, a... Chainsaw? Well, to each their own he supposed. Still, soon enough he came across what he was looking for. Pulling out the pair of brass knuckles tied together with a string, he took of his gloves and put them in an inner coat of his jacket, and then undid the string of the brass knuckles. Slipping on the knuckles, he couldn't help but admire the feeling of familiarity that putting these on gave him, and had to put an actual effort stop himself from throwing a few practice punches. Putting his now brass knuckle laden hands in his pockets, he silently walked over to Grey, nodding once to her but doing nothing otherwise.
simj26
That wasn't even taking into account the by-play going on by the one named Stein and the unfortunately named Cinderella. Knowing what he does now, having a member with a prosthetic leg seems to be a disadvantage to say the least. Nevertheless, he might have some hidden talents that could prove useful. A doubtful possibility, but a possibility nonetheless. The man named Stein seemed to have some inkling of medical knowledge, however diluted and faded that may be with their memories gone, but it was always good to have.
His biggest concern, however, was the woman who seems to be trying to put herself as the leader of this little group. Amusing to watch, especially considering how not only is it not working, but she simply doesn't have the commanding presence, at least not as of now. Sure, she seems charismatic, but only just that. No power behind her words, and even her little threat with the whip she picked out was empty and meaningless. He got this feeling that he was used to dealing with people like her all too often, and most likely had faced much greater threats than what she could pose. No, in the end his concern wasn't because of what she can do now, but of what she could do in the future. He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on her.
Analysis of the recent events aside, Raven stepped forward, shortly after Stein went and picked up the literal implement of death, to plethora of weapons and began sifting through them. Truly, the amount of variety was as astonishing as it was deadly. He rummaged through the arms, shifting aside a knife here, a gun there, a... Chainsaw? Well, to each their own he supposed. Still, soon enough he came across what he was looking for. Pulling out the pair of brass knuckles tied together with a string, he took of his gloves and put them in an inner coat of his jacket, and then undid the string of the brass knuckles. Slipping on the knuckles, he couldn't help but admire the feeling of familiarity that putting these on gave him, and had to put an actual effort stop himself from throwing a few practice punches. Putting his now brass knuckle laden hands in his pockets, he silently walked over to Grey, nodding once to her but doing nothing otherwise.
simj26
Lucem
Ten Thousand Club
Despite all the chaos, the voices and actions of his peers didn’t reach him. There were things he couldn’t understand, along with the bits and pieces he just found irritating or strange. For the most part, however, he was just consumed by the new information being presented to him. They were in a space between life and death, but not purgatory. Apparently, that existed beyond the doors of the cafe, even if the images beyond the glass windows said otherwise. It was a lot to take in all at once, but he found himself just accepting it all, not doubting anything or screaming in an attempt to deny what he heard. Maybe that was because a part of him already knew about his current situation and had come to terms with everything. As the woman said, everyone here accepted the offer for a second chance, even if they didn’t know why. Simply getting another chance at life seemed like enough of a reason, but maybe there was more to it. Still, the knowledge that he was a sinner and nothing more than human garbage made him wonder about it. He also wondered if the version of him that still had his memories would’ve agreed to this if he knew that there would be so many people around.
Hush probably could’ve spent several hours thinking about things in an attempt to escape the uncomfortable setting, but that became challenging when someone new entered the room. Rather than just popping up in the middle of the area like the rest of the gathered trash, this person came in through the door, even though the other side was said to be nothingness. Honestly, he didn’t give too much thought to how she got here, as he was too busy trying to make himself even smaller as the crowd was getting bigger. Although, he did manage to pick up on everything that was happening while watching behind the safety of his bangs, acting like the long locks of hair could somehow conceal his presence.
The girl seemed normal enough, aside from the noticeable circles under her eyes, resembling the dark areas underneath his own. It was hard to hear her voice, but the low volume wasn’t enough to mask her words. She wanted them to kill someone. Not just anyone, but herself. Or at least someone that looked like her. She said it was a monster, so that made things a little easier to understand, but that didn’t make him feel any better about the situation. Sure, he may not have had any memories except the weird name and the voice in his head telling him he was a piece of shit, but he seriously doubted that he was the right guy for an assassination job. As if the guy that got nervous from just being around a bunch of strangers could just roll up and take someone out, especially a shapeshifting monster that already had a murder streak. You don’t send the party to go kill something like that when they’re all at level one! Maybe some of these other members had experience, but he definitely didn’t. He was just a villager that shouldn’t even be leaving town. Just a lowly NPC that farms potatoes or something while the main cast does all the crazy stuff. Yeah, this was definitely beyond him. However, no matter how ridiculous it sounded, he couldn’t shake off the horrible feeling in his gut that came with the mention of murder. It wasn’t exactly a painful sensation, but it was still unpleasant.
Before he knew it, the girl was gone and Amaryllis was already yelling at them to get to work. Apparently, the dead didn’t rest in peace at all. In fact, they seemed to do more hard labor than the living. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when the woman said they’d be doing certain tasks during their time here, but this was just crazy. However, the other sinners didn’t seem to have a problem with this, happy to walk up and grab a murder weapon for a wholesome assassination. With the way things were going so far, it was possible they’d just try to kill each other first. The boss didn’t say anything about that being against the rules.
Letting out a sigh, Hush stepped forward, trying to shut out all the noise around him. He didn't want to see anything. He didn't want to hear anything. If he was too aware of his surroundings, he'd probably just stay glued to a wall, preoccupied with not drawing attention to himself. He only focused on the case in front of him, slowly reaching for the pile of all the stabby and shooty things. Even if his mind and gut were a bit of a mess right now, he knew there was no point in just standing around and trying to deny this bizzare reality. His past self already agreed to this, so there was no point in trying to back out. Even if he was cursing himself out for dragging him into this, he understood that there was probably something he wanted badly enough in life to be here. Going with the flow also sounded better than walking around purgatory for an eternity, so sticking his hand into the tiny armory was probably the smart move for now.
Without thinking about what to pick, he just grabbed the first thing he saw. When he pulled his hand out of the case, he was holding a knife. Actually, it was more like a dagger, considering the size. Picking a gun or something with range would've been a good excuse for him to keep a distance from any fights, but the thought of him running out of ammo and being left with a useless hunk of metal made him rethink that option. He also wasn't a samurai or some edgelord, so a sword was out of the question. In the end, it didn't really matter what he picked, because he'd most likely be horrible at using everything. Even if he wasn't a weapons expert, everyone knew how to use a knife. Maybe that's why it felt natural to hold it. Even someone like him knew how to just stab at something if it got too close.
Hush probably could’ve spent several hours thinking about things in an attempt to escape the uncomfortable setting, but that became challenging when someone new entered the room. Rather than just popping up in the middle of the area like the rest of the gathered trash, this person came in through the door, even though the other side was said to be nothingness. Honestly, he didn’t give too much thought to how she got here, as he was too busy trying to make himself even smaller as the crowd was getting bigger. Although, he did manage to pick up on everything that was happening while watching behind the safety of his bangs, acting like the long locks of hair could somehow conceal his presence.
The girl seemed normal enough, aside from the noticeable circles under her eyes, resembling the dark areas underneath his own. It was hard to hear her voice, but the low volume wasn’t enough to mask her words. She wanted them to kill someone. Not just anyone, but herself. Or at least someone that looked like her. She said it was a monster, so that made things a little easier to understand, but that didn’t make him feel any better about the situation. Sure, he may not have had any memories except the weird name and the voice in his head telling him he was a piece of shit, but he seriously doubted that he was the right guy for an assassination job. As if the guy that got nervous from just being around a bunch of strangers could just roll up and take someone out, especially a shapeshifting monster that already had a murder streak. You don’t send the party to go kill something like that when they’re all at level one! Maybe some of these other members had experience, but he definitely didn’t. He was just a villager that shouldn’t even be leaving town. Just a lowly NPC that farms potatoes or something while the main cast does all the crazy stuff. Yeah, this was definitely beyond him. However, no matter how ridiculous it sounded, he couldn’t shake off the horrible feeling in his gut that came with the mention of murder. It wasn’t exactly a painful sensation, but it was still unpleasant.
Before he knew it, the girl was gone and Amaryllis was already yelling at them to get to work. Apparently, the dead didn’t rest in peace at all. In fact, they seemed to do more hard labor than the living. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when the woman said they’d be doing certain tasks during their time here, but this was just crazy. However, the other sinners didn’t seem to have a problem with this, happy to walk up and grab a murder weapon for a wholesome assassination. With the way things were going so far, it was possible they’d just try to kill each other first. The boss didn’t say anything about that being against the rules.
Letting out a sigh, Hush stepped forward, trying to shut out all the noise around him. He didn't want to see anything. He didn't want to hear anything. If he was too aware of his surroundings, he'd probably just stay glued to a wall, preoccupied with not drawing attention to himself. He only focused on the case in front of him, slowly reaching for the pile of all the stabby and shooty things. Even if his mind and gut were a bit of a mess right now, he knew there was no point in just standing around and trying to deny this bizzare reality. His past self already agreed to this, so there was no point in trying to back out. Even if he was cursing himself out for dragging him into this, he understood that there was probably something he wanted badly enough in life to be here. Going with the flow also sounded better than walking around purgatory for an eternity, so sticking his hand into the tiny armory was probably the smart move for now.
Without thinking about what to pick, he just grabbed the first thing he saw. When he pulled his hand out of the case, he was holding a knife. Actually, it was more like a dagger, considering the size. Picking a gun or something with range would've been a good excuse for him to keep a distance from any fights, but the thought of him running out of ammo and being left with a useless hunk of metal made him rethink that option. He also wasn't a samurai or some edgelord, so a sword was out of the question. In the end, it didn't really matter what he picked, because he'd most likely be horrible at using everything. Even if he wasn't a weapons expert, everyone knew how to use a knife. Maybe that's why it felt natural to hold it. Even someone like him knew how to just stab at something if it got too close.
BriiAngelic
*Willingly Participates in Self Sabotoge*
Interacting With:
Cinderella (
Necromantic
)
Mentions:
The host (
simj26
) Stein (
Arcanist
) Ruse (
Stitches and Patchwork
)
~The Cafe~
Unity || Aster’s CS File
Aster wondered just what it meant that the space they occupied was completely under this woman’s control. There was truly only two options to believe or to disbelieve. Both choices were unfavorable. Either it was false and the woman was a loon which from her request had some backing. But if it was true, and it very well could be with the strange circumstances around the group, then this woman wasn’t someone he’d want to cross since for some reason he’d asked for this.
It made him wonder just what kind of person he was prior to the loss of his memory. He felt like himself, at least nothing from his own perception felt unnatural in anyway. Did that mean that he hadn’t changed of were those memories that powerful. If one thing was for certain he had no intention of making up for mistakes he had never made. After all he was “Aster” now, something he highly doubted was the name of the self who had committed… wait what was he expected to make up for?
He’d seen the man he lifted earlier being examined from the corner of his eye but he felt a need to continue his stare down of their host. The darling Cinderella must wait for now, besides the man seemed occupied at the moment. For one what exactly was she expecting these theatrics to do? If they left with the intention of tricking her would she know? In truth he didn’t think slaughter was the way to atone from whatever he should be seeking atonement for but he’d rather not be under anyone else’s thumb either so it seemed he was stuck playing her game for now.
Though he snapped back as he heard Cinderella snap back at the woman who seemed to be very much in a rush. He let a light chuckle out, something that anyone further than arms distance wouldn’t notice. After the man who’d been examining Cinderella’s leg had put it back into place he had gone and grabbed the man behind the knees and behind his back lifting him back up in a princess carry.
“Well Cinderella if you wanted to be carried you only had to say so.”
Though he realized his mistake too late. Really he should have gotten a better look at the weapons before the rest had taken their pickings but with the amount of weapons this woman was packing it seemed it would hardly matter. Really he wondered just who was expected to take the chainsaw. He put the man down on his own two feet not letting go until he felt the man was stable.
“Well then Cinderella after you?”
simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
Grey’s expression is one of worry. Every so often when another member speaks up, she inches forwards, trying to get a word in, but falters, then retreats back to her position, as if she isn't sure as to what she has to do. Her facade of confidence gives way, crumbling quickly. For a moment, she looks as if she is about to fade away, but quickly recovers when the first of the group approaches her- the one that calls herself Neat, but will not have others know that.
Grey glances at the weapon in her hand, and a flash of recognition crosses her expression. A hand goes to her mouth in surprise. “Oh! That’s the gun…” she catches herself before she can finish. Her throat tightens and she makes a small sound before recovering. She seems to have recognised the gun in the other woman’s hands, but will not say any more than that. If anything, having seen the weapon seems to have filled her with confidence. She opens her mouth to say something.
The back door bursts open before Grey can realise her words. Amaryllis strides out with a large trash bag over her shoulder, her expression just as dour as when she had left the group to their devices. She stops at the threshold of the door and glances around the cafe, then glares at Grey, instantly causing her newfound confidence to fizzle out visibly on her expression. The dark-skinned woman sighs and rubs her temples with one hand.
“You know, back in the day, people used to have some sense of urgency. They’d just do what they were told and not contemplate their navels. Back in the day anyway. Grey’s cohort was particularly easy to get rid of.” Amaryllis drops the trash bag on the floor and paces over to the suitcase of weapons and shuts it. She turns back to the crowd, and simply tilts her head slightly.
You hear tumblers click on the entrance, and, with just that warning, the doors are flung open. Instead of the sunny day outside, a black swirling void greets you instead, and with just that glance of that opening, But it is not you who is sucked into the black hole. In fact, it appears to be the other way around. The café around you tears and rips apart into what appears to be seams. The very literal fabric of reality around you is being torn apart, and sucked into the gaping hole in front of you, leaving you standing on nothingness. Amaryllis steps away from the growing darkness, a sneer on her visage, then, before she, too, is erased from your view, she throws the suitcase and punts the trash bag forwards towards the group. Then she, and the rest of the café, is gone.
And almost as abruptly as you lose sight of the cafe, you are greeted with the sight of a normal neighbourhood, almost as if you had been standing here the whole time. Time has passed, it seems, as it is now late into the evening. The blood red sun is hidden by the myriad of houses lining the street, but its rays still peek over the shingles. The street is empty, and there is only ambient noise. No cries of children, no talking or murmurs of families in their houses, just a low ambient hum, the occasional bark of a dog, and the cawing of a passing crow. The houses that decorate the one way street are nearly similar in structure, all nearly indistinguishable from the next. However, it seems as if Grey has some ideas. She looks intently at the sole building in front of the party.
“That’s the one. The target is in that house,” she says quietly, then turns to the rest of the party. “We should get moving.” She wheels back, and takes a step forward, and is promptly interrupted by a black trash bag slamming onto the floor in front of her. She gives a panicked high-pitched squeak, and darts back towards the group, hiding behind the taller of the members, the one that calls himself Grim. A suitcase follows suit, landing just some ways away from the trash bag. As if by magic, it opens up again, revealing its contents, unscratched.
“U-uh, w-we should go. Y-you first,” Grey stammers out, her serious visage having faded away once again, pushing at Grim to move forwards first.
Grey glances at the weapon in her hand, and a flash of recognition crosses her expression. A hand goes to her mouth in surprise. “Oh! That’s the gun…” she catches herself before she can finish. Her throat tightens and she makes a small sound before recovering. She seems to have recognised the gun in the other woman’s hands, but will not say any more than that. If anything, having seen the weapon seems to have filled her with confidence. She opens her mouth to say something.
The back door bursts open before Grey can realise her words. Amaryllis strides out with a large trash bag over her shoulder, her expression just as dour as when she had left the group to their devices. She stops at the threshold of the door and glances around the cafe, then glares at Grey, instantly causing her newfound confidence to fizzle out visibly on her expression. The dark-skinned woman sighs and rubs her temples with one hand.
“You know, back in the day, people used to have some sense of urgency. They’d just do what they were told and not contemplate their navels. Back in the day anyway. Grey’s cohort was particularly easy to get rid of.” Amaryllis drops the trash bag on the floor and paces over to the suitcase of weapons and shuts it. She turns back to the crowd, and simply tilts her head slightly.
You hear tumblers click on the entrance, and, with just that warning, the doors are flung open. Instead of the sunny day outside, a black swirling void greets you instead, and with just that glance of that opening, But it is not you who is sucked into the black hole. In fact, it appears to be the other way around. The café around you tears and rips apart into what appears to be seams. The very literal fabric of reality around you is being torn apart, and sucked into the gaping hole in front of you, leaving you standing on nothingness. Amaryllis steps away from the growing darkness, a sneer on her visage, then, before she, too, is erased from your view, she throws the suitcase and punts the trash bag forwards towards the group. Then she, and the rest of the café, is gone.
And almost as abruptly as you lose sight of the cafe, you are greeted with the sight of a normal neighbourhood, almost as if you had been standing here the whole time. Time has passed, it seems, as it is now late into the evening. The blood red sun is hidden by the myriad of houses lining the street, but its rays still peek over the shingles. The street is empty, and there is only ambient noise. No cries of children, no talking or murmurs of families in their houses, just a low ambient hum, the occasional bark of a dog, and the cawing of a passing crow. The houses that decorate the one way street are nearly similar in structure, all nearly indistinguishable from the next. However, it seems as if Grey has some ideas. She looks intently at the sole building in front of the party.
“That’s the one. The target is in that house,” she says quietly, then turns to the rest of the party. “We should get moving.” She wheels back, and takes a step forward, and is promptly interrupted by a black trash bag slamming onto the floor in front of her. She gives a panicked high-pitched squeak, and darts back towards the group, hiding behind the taller of the members, the one that calls himself Grim. A suitcase follows suit, landing just some ways away from the trash bag. As if by magic, it opens up again, revealing its contents, unscratched.
“U-uh, w-we should go. Y-you first,” Grey stammers out, her serious visage having faded away once again, pushing at Grim to move forwards first.
Last edited:
Necromantic
You faker than some Sweet 'N Low
Cinderella
The man who's just started feeling up Cinderella's leg was actually fixing the prosthetic. Huh, seemed he was good for something other than abruptly pointing out the obvious. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, looking away from him. This was all humiliating, and he wanted a whole new introduction that didn't include somebody touching his leg. Maybe without him tumbling on the nearest guy- Actually, he wasn't too concerned about the whole falling thing, he just didn't want his leg groped.
Wait, where was glasses guy going without helping him off of the table? Hadn't they just established that he was literally crippled?! How did he expect him to get down from something that was probably as tall as his ribcage?!
Oh, it looked like the guy he'd fallen on was picking him up again to get him off the table- Woah, woah, woah, Cinderella wasn't sure where he'd implied that he wanted to be Princess carried over to the weapon's rack, but he wanted to take that implication away. He'd much rather just be set back on the floor, he was sure he could walk on his own at this point. "Hey, hey, I'm not your bride, we ain't married! You at least need to flirt back before we get this far!" At least, he assumed that he wasn't married, his hands were gloved but he didn't see any indication that there was a ring underneath. A bright blush covered his face, which he tried to hide behind one of his hands. It appeared that he was more embarrassed than actually angry.
"Mmmmmm...." He groaned as he was set on his feet. Just as he felt the hands stabilizing him pull away, he could hear Amaryllis barge in and looked her way. She was certainly saying something, but he found himself distracted by the sheer terror that he felt growing in his gut at the sight of her. Dammit, he was certain that this wasn't because of her personality, he felt like he could handle rude, so what was it?!
Lettuce isn't writing a reaction to the reverse black hole happening, but Cinderella was left dizzy by it, and dammit, he was weaponless. What was he supposed to fucking do without a proper weapon?! His eyes found Grey with the really tall guy, pushing him toward a door (damn the fact that they were spontaneously on a street, that wasn't the strangest thing to happen to him today). He growled a bit as he noticed that she just looked to be going for the biggest, most intimidating guy to open the guy.
He couldn't run with the prosthetic he currently had, but he did manage to get to the door at a shockingly brisk pace. Seemed he could walk well when his leg was on properly, he hardly even appeared to have a limp. He'd hardly gotten a good look at the door in front of him before he raised his left leg and decided to kick the door in. And then, in perhaps an even less reasonable move, he turned around and pointed at Stein.
"You left me on that table! How was I supposed to get down?!" What kind of priorities were these?
simj26
BriiAngelic
Arcanist
Midrick
"Baby, I was born to do the killing."
Wait, where was glasses guy going without helping him off of the table? Hadn't they just established that he was literally crippled?! How did he expect him to get down from something that was probably as tall as his ribcage?!
Oh, it looked like the guy he'd fallen on was picking him up again to get him off the table- Woah, woah, woah, Cinderella wasn't sure where he'd implied that he wanted to be Princess carried over to the weapon's rack, but he wanted to take that implication away. He'd much rather just be set back on the floor, he was sure he could walk on his own at this point. "Hey, hey, I'm not your bride, we ain't married! You at least need to flirt back before we get this far!" At least, he assumed that he wasn't married, his hands were gloved but he didn't see any indication that there was a ring underneath. A bright blush covered his face, which he tried to hide behind one of his hands. It appeared that he was more embarrassed than actually angry.
"Mmmmmm...." He groaned as he was set on his feet. Just as he felt the hands stabilizing him pull away, he could hear Amaryllis barge in and looked her way. She was certainly saying something, but he found himself distracted by the sheer terror that he felt growing in his gut at the sight of her. Dammit, he was certain that this wasn't because of her personality, he felt like he could handle rude, so what was it?!
Lettuce isn't writing a reaction to the reverse black hole happening, but Cinderella was left dizzy by it, and dammit, he was weaponless. What was he supposed to fucking do without a proper weapon?! His eyes found Grey with the really tall guy, pushing him toward a door (damn the fact that they were spontaneously on a street, that wasn't the strangest thing to happen to him today). He growled a bit as he noticed that she just looked to be going for the biggest, most intimidating guy to open the guy.
He couldn't run with the prosthetic he currently had, but he did manage to get to the door at a shockingly brisk pace. Seemed he could walk well when his leg was on properly, he hardly even appeared to have a limp. He'd hardly gotten a good look at the door in front of him before he raised his left leg and decided to kick the door in. And then, in perhaps an even less reasonable move, he turned around and pointed at Stein.
"You left me on that table! How was I supposed to get down?!" What kind of priorities were these?
simj26
BriiAngelic
Arcanist
Midrick
Midrick
She Konrad on my Curze till I Nighthaunt
Grim had been lost in thought, contemplating his situation and the likes, anything anyone said after they had received the order to kill what seemed to be some teen, anything after that had gone in one ear and out the other. Then something interesting happened, the door to the shop opened and they were all sucked into some void before dropping into a residential neighborhood. He was dropped with the rest of them outside on the road in front of a house that looked to be a copy of all the other houses down the street, a trash bag and suitcase full of killing implements came with them, and Grim felt that his eyes were magnetized towards the weapons like a kid in a candy store.
His concentration was broken though by feeling something press behind him and found rather it was a someone. Apparently she wasn't as professional as he first thought she was. He didn't like being touched by strangers, and he especially didn't like being pushed either. "Alright fine, but your coming with me." he said in a calm tone, he walked over toward the suitcase and saw a tomahawk, grabbed it, and hid it, before walking over to grey and grabbing her hand and and briskly walked up the path the front door, passing the ginge who was yelling at another guy. "Cleaning service!!!" he yelled as he entered.
His concentration was broken though by feeling something press behind him and found rather it was a someone. Apparently she wasn't as professional as he first thought she was. He didn't like being touched by strangers, and he especially didn't like being pushed either. "Alright fine, but your coming with me." he said in a calm tone, he walked over toward the suitcase and saw a tomahawk, grabbed it, and hid it, before walking over to grey and grabbing her hand and and briskly walked up the path the front door, passing the ginge who was yelling at another guy. "Cleaning service!!!" he yelled as he entered.
BriiAngelic
*Willingly Participates in Self Sabotoge*
Grey (
simj26
) Cinderella (
Necromantic
) Stein (
Arcanist
) Grim (
Midrick
) Neat (
The One Eyed Bandit
) Ruse (
Stitches and Patchwork
) Hush (
Lucem
) Raven (
Exanis
)
~???~
Dominator || Aster’s CS File
The sweeping whiplash that came over him was not what Aster was planning but even without his memories he knew an entire room being absorbed into a black portal was not a typical part of his day. After all he seemed to regain his muscle memory, from the familiar feeling of carrying someone to the reflective actions he found himself aiming to ignore. Even without it, the idea of a room being disintegrated around him was ludicrous. Still that didn’t stop the chill that went down his back from the sight of it. Whoever it was they were dealing with, the puppet masters in the shadows, were powerful. He wasn’t a dreamer, at least he believes so, but this was hard to dismiss as anything otherworldly.
As he turned his head to observe the area he found himself even more creeped out. This area somehow lacked all feeling of a functional town. While all the parts were there it felt like looking at a jigsaw puzzle who’s middle was removed. The houses were here, some general animal sounds too, but everything looked the same and there wasn’t a soul in sight. Wrong. That’s all he could describe it as. Wherever he was from he could tell it wasn’t a town like this.
Though he’d never admit it he was grateful for the woman who spoke up. It was a reminder that there was still a sea of people with him, even if this felt like an empty place. And once he heard Cinderella dialing it back up he knew he had to get the hell outta his head. Especially after the crazy dude the tony woman decided to push pulled a tomahawk out of the suitcase. He went up to the demon case and started to touch weapons until he found a suitable one. Machine pistol? Honestly he’d probably replace that eventually. But too many were unarmed for his liking. He wasn’t above using others to his gain. He started pulling out knives, the type that don’t open til you press them, and started tossing them to the others.
“Blondie, Shortie, Long hair. Look alive idiots we have a mark to go after.”
And wait did Cinder just go kick down a door without a weapon. He strapped his pistol into the straps of his outfit, likely not safe in anyway, grabbed a sword out of the case and with a quick whistle tossed it to him. He looked like a sword guy, tiny and hotheaded. There was no way he was leaving the possibly magical suitcase though and grabbed it with his left as his right went back for his own weapon. He looked back to the ones still not moving for a quick word before joining the others to storm the house.
“Someone remind me to give Our Lady of Bitchiness a piece of my mind for throwing us out with her literal garbage.”
Arcanist
It's always darkest before the dawn
Stein
Stein’s gaze moved towards the clicking. It came from the door, and for once, his rather deadpan expression turned into that of surprise, which was dancing in his eyes. Before he had time to comprehend the endless black void, the environment around them seems to be pulled from around them. Funny, Stein expected his body to be ripped and pulled from the mortal realm…or rather, the realm of the dead. Now it was as if he was stuck in limbo, a swirling, neverending void. Which was probably what it was.
After avoiding a suitcase and a trash bag threatening to knock his spectacles off, he found himself standing in the middle of a neighbourhood. He adjusted his glasses, taking in the houses lining the streets, the sun setting among the rooftops of a bloody sky. Stein doesn’t recognise the neighbourhood, but he blinks, his mouth slightly agape as he takes in the sight. It seems almost comfortingly familiar. Like he’s walked down a similar street before, with similar sights and sensations.
Yet, he expected to see someone walk past. To greet them, or ignore them, their pace quickening on the pavement. Instead, all he heard was…dogs. It seemed almost abandoned. Empty.
Stein was brought out of his thoughts by a voice screeching at him. When he turned his head towards the voice, he found that man from earlier, pointing his finger at him…after knocking down the door. He stared from Cinderella, to the door, to the house, forgetting that was where they were even going after inspecting the neighbourhood. His gaze stopped on him for several moments before he raised his eyebrows in slight realisation.
“Oh, yes. So, I did.” Stein rubbed his jaw, staring at him. “I didn’t think you wanted to be lifted and placed down…though, then again…” He moved his gaze to nowhere in particular, continuing to rub his jaw as he pondered to himself. Of course, that counter was pretty high…Cinderella would have felt the effects of gravity shooting up his leg if he jumped down. He must have assumed that his patient would do that, because didn’t they all jump down from--?
Stein shook his head. Patient? Ridiculous where that word and notion had come from. He fixed up a prosthetic for him. Hardly a patient. He turned back to him, hands in his coat pockets again and replied, “My apologies. I assumed you would have been able to get down. Plus, that suitcase with the weapons must have distracted me from your predicament.” Stein shrugged. “I’ll make sure to lift you down from any high structures from now on.”
At the announcement of ‘cleaning service’ storming the house, he watched the taller and…buffer of the group barge passed with the girl named ‘Grey’ in tow. “I suppose we’re getting right to it,” he pointed out the obvious, glancing around himself for his weapon…to realise he had been gripping it in his hand the whole time. At least he was prepared.
Stein glanced to Aster upon hearing his request. “I’d like to see that showdown,” he expressed bluntly, mainly because he could sense Amaryllis would be up for that kind of thing. He would like to see anyone go up against the woman. And with that, he followed Grim and Grey inside, not waiting for an answer back.
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