SV
Friendliest Member of ALL TIME
The Friendliest Member Of ALL TIME
Posts: 2,250
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Post by SV on Sept 25, 2010 1:13:41 GMT -5
Sarosin observed the bespectacled man in much the same way that a lion might watch a mouse. His bearing, his appearance; this newcomer seemed so familiar but was so decidedly not the man he was looking for. At nearly the same time, he was struck with the acutely uncomfortable sensation that there may be an altercation soon and that he might be involved. But, engaged as he was in conversation with Yoshimitsu and now with the stoic stranger, there was nothing much that he could do. "Hawaii, hm?" he echoed instead. "Days? Hours? Something like that. Who knows!" "Hawaii..." He chuckled and took another sip from his drink. It was here that the woman who fell through the ceiling earlier reappeared, balancing loaded plates of food with a sort of nonchalant ease. "Maybe she knows?" he suggested, gesturing at the stranger and toward the woman. "Hey, miss! Know when we'll be in Hawaii, by any chance?" This is a bad post. But, I am inebriated.
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Post by Lady Kara on Sept 26, 2010 1:32:57 GMT -5
OOC: Since I can't really do anything with Nagisa at the moment with Helen and Mercury talking to each other, I think I'll introduce another character... one not so welcome on this train, I might add, and a character I plan to use in another RP that I'll do in the next month or so. Elsewhere on the train, within one of the private suites, there sat a strange Japanese man who'd just managed to relax after a frustrating stuggle with putting some of his luggage away in easy to access spots. He had very long hair that was done in a braid, short spikey bangs, wearing a pair of black shades, and arrayed in a nice suit that might suggest he was quite financially well-off. And instead of a fancy handkerchief poking out of one of the pockets on his jacket, the man had a tiny high-tech stethoscope neatly tucked away inside with its ear pieces showing. The man was obviously some kind of doctor, and one to never be without a useful tool on hand in case of an emergency.
As he sat there on his bed, glad to have finished with his luggage ordeal, the man fiddled around with what appeared to be a small silver suitcase that he had open beside him. It actually was some kind of very high-tech medical device, and the man grinned a bit darkly as he examined the machine. Taking a few things out of a storage container inside, the man soon rose from his bed and prepared to close up the device and leave the room... briefly taking a moment to affectionately pat some of the boxes he'd stored away."Don't worry, my wonderful machines - you'll be used soon enough. Our 'patient' is definitely aboard this train, and once found, it'd be no difficulty at all in transporting them here. Ah, that reminds me... I sure hope that I packed enough anesthesia. Never know if I'll need it for more than just keeping the patient asleep during examination. Haven't performed a surgery by myself in a while - it might be fun to do one on a train." *looks at a cellphone/computer-like device on his wrist* "Excellent! The tracker just turned itself on - the patient must be very closeby to be in range enough for it to function. Now, let's go find where our lovely patient has gone off to... hmmm..."
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Post by ch00beh on Sept 26, 2010 14:30:47 GMT -5
Nick took the last bite of his savory meal. His hands dripped with the excess burger juices, but he didn't seem to mind as he washed the food down with his cranberry beverage. The man made a small attempt to clean himself up with his napkin, but soon gave up.
"Hey dude, uh…Nick?"
Someone was calling his name?
"You're the cat that built this train, right?"
Aha! The bartender! He must truly be able to appreciate the look of a genius. What a smart young man. Why would such an intelligent person simply serve beverages from behind a counter, though?
"I peeped you in that picture over there when I first came in today."
Not only was he smart, but he had impeccable powers of observation! How astounding.
"Hey you want something besides a cranberry juice? How about a cocktail on me?"
Nick tilted his head. He had never seriously had an alcoholic drink before. Of course he had imbibed ethanol before, but it was purely as an academic curiosity. It had tasted strange, to say the least, but it had been mixed by some brutish neanderthal. Maybe a more sophisticated, intelligent person, like the man behind the counter, could make a better taste? It would only be proper Science to attempt the same test with a different variable.
Now what was that beverage he had before... vodka cranberry? Yes, yes. Nick's perfect memory would not forget that. The scientist took his dishes and brought them to the bar then took a seat. "I think I will have vodka mixed with cranberry juice."
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Post by Tout-Perd on Sept 26, 2010 15:33:42 GMT -5
“Lacy, mind yourself,” Berthold muttered, and the teen immediately looked down at the front of her dress. “No…” He lowered his voice further, “ Side.” Her mouth formed a brief O, and she quickly adjusted the arm hole, covering a glinting bit of silver. Berthold wasn’t really sure if what it was she was carrying. He had a small handgun in the inside pocket of his jacket, and a can of pepper spray strapped to his leg. Upon espying his preparations, George had laughed disparagingly. He’d furnished something for Lacianus, though it could be anything from high-powered explosives to some bizarre bladed weapon to an unfolding mechanical suit to some manner of gun. The Obsidian Hearts did love their unusual weaponry so… A beep, in his ear. It was enough to make him jump. Lacianus, meanwhile, was lapping away at her spoon unperturbed. George twitched his lips for a moment, but continued looking towards the window. "Berthold, Lacianus, can you hear me? Where are you guys?" Ah, good. Arnold. A bit more normal than his peers, fortunately. It’d be good to help him make his way up here quickly. Maybe he could have normal conversation which wasn’t about mechas or food, or for that matter, intentionally foreshadowing world conquest every time he opened his mouth. “We’re in the-“ Berthold remembered what George had told him. He clenched his jaw, the pressure activating the miniature radio in his ear. “We’re in the buffet car. Or something like that? I don’t know what class we’re in. The food’s good, though,” “Yes, and we’re on a train. It’s not like nobody can see the commlinks we’re using or anything like that,” Lacianus retorted, pushing out her chair, “Don’t worry, we’ll just tell everybody you’re rich and schizocentric. That’ll cover any weirdness.” She patted him on the shoulder with her free hand, the other taking the plate with her. Berthold pondered the wisdom of such an action, before realizing how precisely cleaned it had been. “See that there?” George’s rich voice rumbled for the first time in almost half an hour. The mechanic jumped again. “See what? I just see ocean and the Archipelago. Good view, but you aren’t the type to-“ “I always forget. Normal people, normal senses. They suck, so very badly,” George took the sugar dispenser from the table, and angled it. Precisely reflected on it, more sharply than should have been possible, was a young blonde woman. She was dressed fairly modestly, it seemed, but the few places that the skin was exposed seemed to be marred by abnormally large scars. She was wobbling ever so slightly, a tiny lurch accompanying her movements. “Can you feel it? She’s something interesting,” George paused just long enough to let Berthold start speaking, and then cut him off, “She’s so very, very interesting. I want that.” Without standing up, George was away from their table, and on his feet. He walked silently, the air rippling around him as if it was coming off a flame. He ignored the other two at the bar judiciously, regarding them as one would flies. His shades adjusted their position on his nose without being touched, taking on a reflective sheen. “Hello,” He put his hand on her shoulder, “What are you?” ------- “Oh, I’m afraid I’ve got little time for anything else,” Helen tried to smile more openly, letting her posture drop slightly. She shouldn’t force being casual, but being too tight lipped would only bring Masquerade’s curiosity to bear. “There’s been a few men I’ve met who might’ve been something, but they tend to come and go. You know how it is in the Archipelago. One day he’s talking like you might be the only one for him, and then the next, he flies away on the back of a flaming dragon, and you don’t see him again for four years.” Helen smiled genuinely now. “And then he shows up again, and he’s a totally different guy, and acts like everything in the past never happened. I’ve seen that one happen quite a few times,” She leaned an elbow against the wall. She had her rhythm with her again. “I guess it’s what you should expect. People come here…” She glanced towards the back of the train. They really weren’t in the Archipelago any more. “There. People go there to get away from themselves and their pasts. Why should we think they’d do anything different when it comes to interacting with us?” “Maybe I should find some spell to make people responsible… Though that’d certainly need to be the greatest magic I’ve ever worked.” OOC: Pohatu, where are youuu?
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Post by Ninety on Sept 26, 2010 19:49:23 GMT -5
"Vodka cranberry it is, then." Kyle took the dishes and placed them into the dumbwaiter below the bar to send them to the kitchen staff then shuffled over to one of the freezers to find a suitable vodka.
Well, I want to give him a good cocktail but there's not much involved with a drink like this. He's either not one for alcohol or he really loves cranberry juice. In either case, I'll want to go with a vodka that won't stick out from the mixer so the Smirnoff in the well is out. Normally I'd go with one of the more expensive brands but Ketel One and Stolichnaya Elit have a bitterness that will only be amplified by the tart taste of the cranberries. Grey Goose is for people who don't know anything about vodka but want a name they can drop to show people how much more their drink cost. It's swill and this guy doesn't seem like the type to care about a label anyways. We'll go with Tito's on this one; it's as close to flavorless as you can get and it's been a favorite with nearly everyone I've served.
Kyle stood back up with the frosty bottle as well as a bottle of cranberry juice and set them on the bar. He filled an old-fashioned glass mostly full with ice cubes and set it on a coaster in front of his patron then scooped some more ice into a shaker. Following the ice was the juice and the liquor, poured without measure. Kyle had never been a fan of bartenders that measured out every glass. It's all well and good to be precise when it comes to the more complex drinks but for simple mixers, or even neat glasses, a measured pour comes across as miserly and unfriendly, an atmosphere a bar should never have. You can have a drink anywhere; people come to a bar for a reason. It's a place for conversation and for comfort. The long pour is a symbol of generosity and kindness, a gesture of friendship.
"You know, technically this cranberry juice is a cocktail in and of itself," Kyle remarked as he closed the shaker together and shook the contents vigorously. "Sure, there's no alcohol in it but the essence of the cocktail is still there. Cranberry juice alone is exceptionally tart and acidic. This is why the most popular brands use water and sweeteners to balance out the harsh flavors. This blend of ingredients pools together to make something greater than that which went into its crafting, something familiar yet supremely unique. This is the goal of all cocktails."
Kyle removed the cap from the shaker and strained the liquid into the man's glass.
"Please, enjoy."
Kyle then turned to the man that had walked in earlier and who was now gazing out the window with a Cheshire grin.
I'm starting to wonder how many more Italians I'm going to see on this trip. We're just crawling all over this train.
"Would you like something to drink, sir?"
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Post by ch00beh on Sept 27, 2010 7:04:44 GMT -5
OOC: you know what hasn't happened? the end of day 1. damn. "No," Rie said curtly to the guy. Her mouth was also full of lobster, so her response sounded more along the lines of "Nrpmph." It was a good question, though. The girl looked out the window and saw the sun beginning its orange descent. Probably an hour or two left of daylight, not accounting for train movement. Estimation of two to three hours since departure. Rie looked back at the rapidly shrinking Archipelago. At this rate she guessed that the train would hit Hawaii somewhere around midmorning the day after tomorrow, perfectly timed with most of the guests' sleep schedules for the following day. The girl mentally shrugged then went back to work on her lobster. The shell of a single lobster had been piled onto a napkin on the table. It was clear that the knife work to get into the shells were precise; every cut was a straight line with no deviation and no jagged edges except for where impatient fingers had bent the shell out of shape. Rie was beginning her operation on a second shellfish, cutting it down the center of the tail, when a hand grasped her uncomfortably hard on the shoulder. "Hello. What are you?" Rie didn't stop to think. She whipped around to assess the the threat, and at the same, her knife-holding hand (the parent shoulder having been the one that was grabbed) moved faster than most eyes could follow from the table to the forearm of her assailant. It would have been a standard disarm of knocking the arm away, but instead, her hand passed through the man's arm. Once through, her hand switched directions in an attempt to stab the assailant. Rie was completely surprised to find her wrist being grabbed instead of her knife sinking into flesh. It didn't show, however, as her arm again phased out of the material plane, losing the man's grip. The girl kicked up, phasing through the table while gripping the top of her chair, then vaulted herself upside down toward the ceiling and "landed" in a crouched position, from which she sprang at the man knife-first. He merely sidestepped. Rie's knife sank through the floor, followed by her arm then her entire body. Clattering could be heard outside the train, and a moment later, Rie phased through the bar-side wall as if she had swung herself inside. She sailed in heel first in an attempt to spike the man, but again he simply moved aside. Rie would have crashed into her table or through the window if she hadn't phased once again out of the material plane. More clattering, this time moving in an upward direction. The girl phased through the ceiling a few meters away then landed heavily on the carpet, her footing failing her for a moment in disorientation. Her offhand hit the ground to steady herself. Too much jumping around without actually scoring a hit. It was throwing her off. On top of that, the alcohol was not doing pleasant things to the food in her stomach. She fought the urge to think about throwing up or phasing the offending parties out of her system. It would be a waste of food and drink. "What do you want." At this point she noticed that the man had what would best be described as an "aura" and her vision wasn't just hazy due to alcohol. OOC: Oh Rie and action sequences. I have not written you in so long and I do not know how. You crazy action girl who hasn't actually gotten legit action in a while.
A fact about cranberry juice. Oh how marvelous! This young man was truly a man of science. "Actually, yes, I did know that. Most people would take such a simple chemical fact for granted, but I see that we're both men of the same type!" The bartender offered the alchemist the beverage. "Thanks," Nick said. He flashed a crooked smile and took the drink. The man took a careful sip, remembering his first time. That time had been mostly unpleasant. This one, however, was not. In fact, it tasted mostly like cranberry juice. Nick took another sip and regarded the flavor. His sensors were picking up the different ingredients, but his taste buds were not. Fascinating. It couldn't simply be differing personnel that altered the flavor of the same beverage so much. One sodium block exploded in water just the same as a different sodium block, no matter who was throwing it in. This obviously meant it went down to the level of chemical concentrations and types as well as the method of mixing. A different person could (and probably would!) have different creationary principles. Nick eyed the bottles behind the counter then recalled the levels that the man poured. This was new ground. He would have to ask an expert. "I must know, how did you get this beverage to taste exactly like normal cranberry juice, Mr. ah...?"
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Post by Ninety on Sept 27, 2010 16:19:50 GMT -5
"Castellani. I don't care for formalities, though; just call me Kyle. As for the drink, there's a little more than meets the eye."
Kyle glanced at the Italian. The man didn't appear to have heard Kyle's offer in his daydreams.
No need to snap him out of his reverie. I'll let him be for now.
Kyle focused back on Nick. "Even for a simple cocktail like this there are a number of things to consider. Most importantly is the vodka. Different brands have different qualities that come as a product of their distillation, the purity of the water used, and what is fermented to produce the ethanol. When it comes right down to it though, vodka is essentially just ethanol and water. Because of this, when it is mixed with something it tends to water down the flavors. To counteract this I use a different brand of cranberry juice than what is served plain. This one has fewer ingredients to interact with the vodka but, more importantly, it has a lower percentage of water. If you drank this as-is it would have a striking bittersweet taste that would overpower a meal but adding the vodka makes it palatable again by adding to the water content. Since water is such an important part of this drink I used large, smooth cubes of ice so that they would melt more slowly. Care also has to be taken when using the shaker so you don't chip the ice against its sides." Kyle grinned as he noticed the man was still as rapt as ever.
"You were an important factor as well. You just finished a fairly large burger and odds were good that there would still be some, pardon this image, there was probably still some grease clinging to the insides of your mouth. Taking that into account I added a little more vodka than normal. It would help cleanse your palate and, since you just ate, the extra alcohol would sit easier in the stomach. You also took small sips instead of a full drink so even though there was less of the cocktail in your mouth, it sat on your tongue for a longer period. This let the flavors come through fully and acclimated your tongue to the taste so that even larger swallows later will have as much presence as the first. That's something to keep in mind if you decide to switch drinks later; the first of the new will be colored by the last of the old."
Nick had stayed attentive through the whole of the monologue and now Kyle laughed a little at himself. "I hope that answered your question," he said with a wide smile.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Sept 27, 2010 22:41:31 GMT -5
“I’m just like any other person. I want to sate my needs…” George was grinning faintly, the lights playing across his shades. “In this case, my main need would be my curiosity,” He flickered for a moment. Rie felt breath on her ear, but a moment later, the sensation was gone. He placed his hand in his pockets, and dropped his chin. His blue eyes peered over the lenses, attempting to meet Rie’s gaze. “I like meeting interesting people, whoever you are. And I like having them stay around me.” He swaggered up to the bar, and took a seat next to where Rie had been. The distortion around him diminished, and then faded away. “I find it helps kill some of the inexorable boredom that fills my life.” He spun about, and rested both elbows against the neatly polished bar. Interlacing his fingers, he looked up at bartender. “I’ll have a Southern Bound Meteor,” He cracked his knuckles with a loud, metallic crunch, and an indiscriminate number of fifty dollar bills appeared in a haphazard stack in front of him. “Anybody want anything? My treat.” OOC: Blood, join Nick in a cranberry juice festival at the bar! Huzzah! Also, George is a lot more fun than I thought he’d be. I guess it’s fun to write in God Mode sometimes, provided you don’t start overshadowing everybody.
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Post by Loogs on Sept 29, 2010 22:32:43 GMT -5
"Ivan, you weirdo, let's get down from here, get inside, and eat dinner like normal people!"
Dimitri growled at his eccentric companion, who was currently seated atop one of the passenger cars with his feet resting on one of the rungs of the ladder. Ivan's blonde mop was ruffled and tousled by the oncoming winds, and his dark blue robe fluttered noisily behind him. Clinging to his large. billowy sleeve with tiny white paws was Dimitri, squinting to keep tears out of his eyes.
"What the hell are we doing up here, anyway?"
"Thought I saw something weird. I wanted to climb up here to check it out. Besides, isn't the view wonderful?" Ivan motioned to his right with the staff in his hand. Below them, the ocean stretched for miles and miles. From this far out, the shimmering surface reflected the beautiful cerulean skies perfectly.
Dimitri took one peek over the edge of the train and shuddered, huddling back into his cocoon of fabric. "Ivan, we are thousands of feet in the air, you have to be absolutely meshugenah to even sit out here! Please, let's just go inside and have some of that delicious roast pheasant they were serving in the buffet car. I'm starving."
"No way, Dimmy. Where's your sense of adventure? Really, you and Hector are nothing alike."
"Yes, and you say that like it's a bad thing?"
Ivan chuckled. "Just bear with me for a while. I want to get a closer look at that crazy kid with the beat-up coat that was hopping around up front just a while ago." He glanced over towards the engine of the train, and noticed two vaguely familiar figures in the distance. "Wait a second, is that Thyra?"
"I don't know. Could be."
"Let's go over there and see." And before Dimitri could howl in protest, Ivan gingerly stood up and stepped onto the next car, clutching his furry friend close to him. With a wave of his staff, the wind resistance on the top of the train stopped, and made their journey across far safer.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Oct 1, 2010 0:14:37 GMT -5
The cell phone rang once again. Massimo retrieved it, pulling his gaze down from the clouds only for a long enough instant to note the name of the caller. It was, of course, the name he had just been considering. "Yes?" he asked. He grimaced and held the phone slightly away from his ear. "There's really no need to shout," he informed it at the earliest available opportunity. "No, I mean it, I can't understand you. What's -- Are you plugging your nose or did you suddenly come down with the flu?" He listened for a moment. "Who?" he asked. "Did he really?" he then asked. He frowned and spun slowly in his seat to face the counter. He leaned both elbows on the table. "Che cazzo stai dicendo?" he muttered. "Yes--" he cut in again almost immediately. "Yes I'd say, though, what I'm actually asking is how in God's name you could have incited him to do this." Then he listened in silence for a very long while. "Obviously he was trying to have a laugh at you both," he observed eventually. "You might have checked the... All right. Yes, fine, that's fair, Ces. I understand. Let me ask you again not to shout. How's the foot?" He winced. "I'll see what I can do. Tell me where he went." A pause. "It's unbelievably clear who I'm talking about. Don't be dense, now, please. We'll worry about the other one ourselves." He nodded along with the response. "Understood. Well. Let Nico know. I'll work on things from this end and get back to you shortly. Also consider declaring yourself a monk and spending the rest of this trip in reverent isolation." Massimo closed the phone and looked down the counter to the bartender.
"Excuse me," he said. "Did I miss you? I'm very sorry. I'd like to discuss a couple of things. First, how much do I owe you for the drink my brother skipped out on; and second, is there a security unit aboard the train that might be equipped to deal with the lunatic who just stabbed this brother in the foot and is now moving forward from the caboose?"
* * *
"What an unexpected pleasure," Higgledy-Piggledy commented.
Rhometer at first thought he was maybe talking about some cool bird that had just flown by or maybe a cloud in a delicious-looking shape but then he figured it out. There was a woman walking toward them on the roof of the train. And Rhometer recognized her! It was Miss Bubble! No! Uh. It was -- Miss Rubble! Hmm. Closer. He squinted in thought. He had it. It was Miss Rustle. The one with the bubbles. That was what had confused him. Totally. Bubbles.
"Bubbles," he added thoughtfully.
"Bubbles apparently beyond your power to destroy which sets them in a rare and coveted position among all the things in the world."
"I know," said Rho. He grinned resolutely. "I have meeted my mash. Hi Miss Rustle! Hi her friend!!"
* * *
Whether Nico would have tolerated or rejected being assigned another mission from Cesare when he was already making excellent progress on the first will remain a question unanswered, at least for the moment. He would have received a phone call around now from the bleeding and furious middle Giarrettiera informing him of two wrongdoers, a dickwad in a white cloak and a dickwad with a sword. Nico was in fact too busy flinching violently in response to the light-haired woman's movements to notice the incoming call.
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Post by ch00beh on Oct 1, 2010 10:20:47 GMT -5
With the breath on her ear, the girl instinctively stabbed in that general direction while her head turned translucent. She glared at the man as he flickered back into view. She continued to keep her knife trained on him as he moved to the bar, but as he set the money out, she relaxed her grip. The girl took up a seat two stools away from the man. "Whiskey. And no, I'm not going out with you." And Rie's personal meme continues
Nick nodded along to Kyle's explanation. It was all absolutely fascinating. "That answered my question and so much more! You are clearly some kind of genius. Tell me about those other kinds of alcohol." Nick grinned back.
Masquerade smiled at Helen. The woman was getting comfortable again. The genuine expression, the relaxed posture. "Yes, I do know what you mean. The Archipelago is such an action filled region... Anyway, did you have a performance to get ready for tonight, or did I read the brochure wrong? I apologize, I must have kept you for too long." SMILE AND NOD 3X COMBO
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Post by Cendra on Oct 10, 2010 0:03:06 GMT -5
OOC: I live! Sorry for being away for so long... School's intense right now. But yeah, here ya go! “I swear, I don't need to worry about getting fat from eating the food on this train. The smell itself is enough to make me gain some pounds.” Telrien smoothed the front of her dress accusingly then shrugged. Casually, she reached into her one of her bag's pockets and picked out two or three light blue, bead like balls and made her way over to the food. Happily she found that there was quite the selection of sea food which she piled a good portion of her plate with along with a few things she'd never seen before. Once she was through the line she faced the problem it seemed many folks were having. Nowhere to sit. Telrien glanced at the floor as if in debate, but then decided against it as one of the many richly dressed people dropped their own bounty onto it. “Not in this dress...” She mumbled. As she continued to look for a usable seat she noticed that some of the benched at the bar weren't taken and whether it was for looks or some other reason a few were not attached to the floor, but just placed in divots to keep them from moving around as much during the flight. “Maybe they're in the middle of upgrading or something.” she thought as she strode over to the bar. Putting her dish down on the counter she addressed the tender there. “I'm just going to borrow this for a few ok? I promise I'll bring it back.” she said smiling sweetly. Without waiting for an answer she picked up the bench in one hand and her food in the other and made her way to an “empty” stop in the room were she promptly sat on her bench and used her lap as a table. Sure she could have stayed at the bar, but the smell/taste of alcohol wasn't exactly in the top ten list of her sense's pallet. Though she had to admit that alcohol was one of the things that had made her as good at her profession as she was. Telrien's thoughts wandered back into the past as she ate her meal. Thirteen years before... Telrien slipped out of her room through the window as stealthily as she could manage. It was a holiday weekend. Perfect for practice. It was about a mile to the nearest Tilbyr, but that wasn't too far. You could hear the crowd that had gathered together for their good time when you got close and all she had to do was hide in the shadows and wait by the door. It would be like an assembly line. If she was discrete enough she would get more than her allowance ever added up to. She'd learned the few beginning ticks off of one of the visiting fishermen when she had tried to take one of his fish. The plan had been to show her father that she'd caught something, but needless to say she was caught that time. He had been a nice man, she decided. I bit questionable, but nice. He taught her her game after all. Amused by the memory, Telrien got up from her bench and strode back to the bar with it. “Thanks for that.” she said, leaving her plate on the counter and moving on to the next car. “It's much better to not work on an empty stomach.” Glancing into her hand she eyed the ten dollar bill resting there. “Hmm, the tips aren't that bad here either.”
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Post by Tout-Perd on Oct 10, 2010 3:07:33 GMT -5
OOC: Decided just to post my stuff for George. Expect Zebedee/Thyra, Helen, and yes, NOPCSA in my next post here. BIC: “Did I actually ask you about going out with me?” George turned to Rie, lowering his shades just far enough to reveal icy blue eyes.
“It’s a juvenile notion that a lot of men possess. To enjoy something, you have to own it. You have to make it your own, mark your territory,” George turned back to the bar, his drink having been set down on the counter. With a dismissive gesture, crushed the oxygen out of the air around his glass, strangling the flame. It died down to a wisp and then faded away.
“They don’t think ‘Maybe I can enjoy this without buying it, without forcing it into captivity,’” George downed his shot with a single gulp, “That’s the sign of a real entrepreneur, of a real somebody. They don’t come with a preconceived notion of boundaries, of what they can and can’t do. They write their own rules, and write over the rules of the smallminded peons that try to hem them in. They don’t ask, they don’t stake claims, they just find a way to achieve the means they want.”
“So, with that all said, don’t think I’m planning on making you some sexual conquest of mine. Sex is cheap, and I really don’t consider it worth getting out of my seat for some pretty little blonde thing that struts by. Good looking women might be uncommon for a typical person, but they’re like water in a rainstorm for anybody of actual influence. If the powerful simply take a step into the outside world, they’ll find themselves buried in them.”
“Now power… That is not cheap, that is not common. When you really look at the world, put it in the palm of your hand…” George extended a hand, resting his elbow on the bar. A perfect replication of the planet Earth turned in the air above it, a flawless illusion. He turned to face Rie again, “Really, really look at it, you see that right and wrong aren’t actually set in stone. They’re words that get ascribed meanings by the people that hold power. If morality itself is simply a toy for the mighty, what does that say about every lesser aspect of human nature?”
“It’s a very interesting idea, my stoic companion, that enough sway over the people around you allows you to make reality itself bend to your will. Maybe not to say ‘down is now up’, and have them all fall into space, but-“ George tensed his fingertips, and a large fissure tore across the phantom globe. The crevasse expanded until it bisected the planet, leaving it to rip itself into luminous chunks of molten rock, “You can convince every one of the chumps out there that they will.”
He lifted his hand from the bar, and held it out towards Rie, as if expecting a handshake. The illusion faded away, leaving only a few dying green sparks resting on the wood.
“Now, do you think that might be something interesting? Overturning and upsetting the paradigms humanity uses to blind themselves to reality, and…” George’s free hand patted the stack of bills on the table, “Coming out richer than most minds could even comprehend in the process.”
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Post by Kuroboom on Oct 10, 2010 15:23:37 GMT -5
I was being silly. NAIC:There was a slight flash of light and Kuro appeared for absolutely no good god-damn reason next to George. Kuro was wearing a blue jumpsuit with buttons along the sides and was carrying a boom box. He set the stereo down on the counter of the counter and pressed play. " UNTS! UNTS! UNTS! UNTS!" the player went while Kuro looked at George and Rie and stated, "This music makes me feel like partying... I kinda wanna party right now!" With that, he tore away and discarded the jumpsuit. Underneath, he was wearing only a leopard print thong and a bow tie. The music continued thumping as Kuro began to dance with his junk perilously close to George. He continued dancing for what must have seemed like an eternity to George before turning his dancing talents to Rie.
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Post by Loogs on Oct 10, 2010 15:34:36 GMT -5
And then Dumblydore teleported right next to Kuro. "WHAT THE fuck ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERfuckER!!!!!!!"
Then Hector picked up the train and flew away with it THE END
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Post by Tout-Perd on Oct 12, 2010 1:16:45 GMT -5
Helen nodded, her hat dipping slightly.
“I suppose that you’d be right. I’ve probably only got an hour or so,” She glanced towards one of the ubiquitous clocks. It had been about six and a half hours since the train had gotten underway, maybe a bit more. She couldn’t recall if they’d left at one or noon.
“No, not that, even.”
Despite the lack of time, Helen remained serene. She strode up to Nagisa, and offered her a handshake.
“It was great to meet you, Ms. Davarin. If you could make it to my performance, I’d be most delighted,” She turned, and started to walk away, “Masquerade, if you’re not too preoccupied, I’d also be glad to have you there.”
She slid the door open, and exited the car. ------- Rhometer responded to Thyra’s call after babbling to himself (for what felt like a lot longer than it really was).
“H- Ah, hey, Rhometer. My name’s Zebedee, and I’m Miss- Thyra- I’m Thyra’s friend,” Zebedee glanced down towards the roof of the train. The boy’s shadow was certainly not moving in a natural way, moving with a grace that seemed to counterpoint the erratic, boneless, jellyfish-wiggle that the youth seemed to dart around with.
His racquet caught another gleam of the reddish sunlight. The warrior stepped forward and offered his hand to Rhometer. The boy seemingly looked towards it (though that distinction was hard to make, since it seemed his pupils were doing laps in opposite directions).
“You seem like an interesting guy, Rho’.”
Thyra turned, feeling a few footsteps on the rooftop behind her. Though the vibrations were subtle, it certainly broke from the steady rumble of the train beneath their feet.
It took her a moment, even in spite of her typical knack for names and faces.
“Ivan! It’s been far too many years!” She smiled faintly, taking a half-step towards him. She preferred not to let Rhometer get too far out of sight, lest Zebedee be revised into a zebra, or the youth decided that it would be fun to take the train for an underwater joyride.
She spotted a tiny black nose, peering out of Ivan’s garb.
“And Dimitri as well! I’m delighted, truly,” Thyra shuffled another portion of a pace, being mindful of the intense winds.
“It’s been… Well, it has not been forever since I’ve seen either of you, but I’d venture a guess that we’re on the far side of half a decade,” She cast a glance back over her shoulder.
Zebedee was drawing animals in the air with dancing lights, clearly trying to entertain his new acquaintance. He’d already shaped a tiger out of luminous green, and a long-nosed anteater out of shimmering teal. The two shapes were spinning about Rhometer’s head like a mobile, seemingly keeping his attention for the moment.
That would be enough for now, she supposed. She gracefully lowered herself to a seated position atop the car, and patted a spot next to her.
“So, I’m afraid I don’t know what you two have been through in the past couple years. It would be most wonderful if you could enlighten me as to what’s happened in the interim.” ------- Nopcsa braced the door shut behind him, and glanced back again. He’d managed to set up a few detours and obstacles along the way, but Prime had simply sliced, diced, and bulled his way through all of them. He wasn’t faring much better than any of the makeshift deterrents, a large shallow cut across his left shoulder bleeding slowly into his uniform, and a collection of bruises about his shoulders and neck throbbing a steady bass to accompany his thoughts.
Auguste had certainly sold the swordsman short, when asked about how much power their mark had gained since they’d first met. Probably for a good reason… Nopcsa bit his lip. The scars on his cheek were tingling.
No, no, no. He’d fucked up the job in Salt Lake City. They came out okay in the end, but the only reason that situation degenerated as far as it did was because he hadn’t put his foot down. That had cost him Auguste’s favor, his preferential treatment on assignments… And his “friendship” with Terrian.
That sort of thing would not happen again today.
Nopcsa drew a steakknife he’d purloined from one of the diners when Prime chokeslammed him through the table. That’d work well enough. After opening the door to the car ahead of him, he slammed the utensil into the covering between the cars.
The fabric tore with a loud whoosh, the knife getting jerked out by the air ripping past. It gouged the mindreader’s palm as it went, leaving him with a bloody nick. More scars to regale the grandchildren with eventually.
Nopcsa spun through the open door, pulling his cape tightly behind him. An instant later, the doors to the area between the cars automatically closed and locked. A small red sign above the exit lit up, informing the passengers that the passageway was out of order until maintenance crews arrived.
That would actually buy him a bit of time.
Now, who here looks loaded and lost… A familiar female voice caught his attention. Nopcsa spotted a graceful figure trying to merge with the crowd, feigning disappointment at the technical difficulties while slowly slipping wallets and jewelry free with a subtlety that was all but invisible.
Telrien. Good. She’d be able to help him carry out the mission. In fact, he’d planned on her being there. She’d been the “Emergency Backup”, in case things with Prime had gone… Well, about as well as could be expected, really. Going by what had happened the night he’d met Terrian, and the events of the day so far, Prime apparently ripped through plans and conspiracies like most people chawed on beef jerky.
Nopcsa allowed himself a small grin, and quickly began walking towards Telrien.
“Everybody, everybody, please calm down. The reports of a berserk burglar in the back cars of the train are indeed true, but we’ve sealed the doorway to prevent him from getting through while security deals with him. Still, we’d advise you to make your way towards the front of the train, as we’re not liable for any possessions stolen, emotional trauma incurred, or limbs lost while this man is on his bloody rampage.”
That took care of the crowd. They began moving towards the next car up, forming a steady press of bodies. Easy, easy hunting ground for his partner.
Speaking of which, he needed to actually rendezvous with her to carry out the next step in the plan. He pushed towards her, between an elderly couple, around a very rotund man, and over a trio of children. He nodded to her, and started to mouth the codewords-
WHAM! Something grabbed him by his arm, and wrenched him to the floor. The grip maintained its pressure, sliding along until it felt like it was crushing his fingers.
Nopcsa found himself looking up at the mustachioed face of Orville Giguere, the heir glowering down at him like a particularly smug heavenly body.
“Don’t be deceived, ladies and gentlemen. This man here is an accomplice to the other thief, merely trying to fleece us while the other one causes a commotion.”
Nopcsa glanced around, the back of his head throbbing enough to pulsate his vision. Telrien was nowhere to be seen, evidently having decided she’d be better off plucking what goodies there were for the taking than assisting him.
“Piss off, Puff. Or you’ll no longer be playing along Cherry Lane,” Nopcsa swung at Giguere’s groin with his elbow, missing by the sparest of margins.
“You never could read me, Nopcsa, am I right?” Giguere released his grip on the mindreader’s hand, and kicked him in the shoulder. The young man gasped in pain, clutching at his prior wound.
“I’d figured as much. And soon, soon enough,” He knelt nearer, and muttered so that the straggling passengers wouldn’t hear him, “Soon enough, Prime’ll be here. And we’ll split whatever money the Order gives us for your safe return…”
Nopcsa saw the Out-of-Order sign shut off. Somebody had already patched the gap, apparently, and Prime would be free to enter.
“Or, my personally preference…” Giguere’s pointed tongue ran along his lips, and ruffled his mustache, “We could just split you.” OOC: Eh, all three weren't that great, but it moves us along.
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on Oct 12, 2010 18:23:14 GMT -5
The crowd began to bristle with the beginnings of a panic, having been informed of a possible pickpocket in their ranks and at the same time privy to the disarming and abuse of Nopcsa at the hands of Orville. Women grasped at their throats, one trembling hand quickly searching for the anniversary pearls and Tiffany earrings while the other clutched viselike around designer purses and exotic handbags. Men instinctively slapped their rear pockets seeking the familiar lump of fat leather tucked within while simultaneously rustling inside jacket and breast pockets for hand watches and other treasures. A collective wail rose from the throng as a sense of desperate urgency took hold and moved the passengers violently towards the forward compartments, away from the madness unfolding behind them. As dozens of hands scrambled at the door mechanism, it suddenly opened of its own accord, and from behind it a piercing whistle shattered the air, so shrill and loud that it drew a cry of astonished pain from the panicked passengers before rendering the whole of the traincar silent as a tomb. Wally Creed removed his fingers from his wrinkled lips and stepped inside, parting the crowd on authority alone. 'Does someone,' Creed hissed, his graying eyes smoldering with a fury ripened over many years of life, ' ANYONE want to tell me just what in the blue fuck is going on in here?!' He leveled a bitter stare at Orville, still crouched over the whimpering Nopcsa. Footsteps stampeded in from the forward compartment as uniformed King Thomas staffers rushed in and fanned out around Wally. A stifled gasp shot from the frightened passengers as their eyes fell on the stun batons in each trainman's hand. 'I've got reports coming from every car past Eight that say all Hell's broken loose back here!' The conductor stabbed a finger at Orville. 'Have you gone completely out of your mind, son?! Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you're in?!' He shot a cursory glance at the prostrated Nopcsa, 'And you- you are definitely up Shit Creek.' Creed stepped forward. Whatever jovial demeanor the old man had once possessed was long gone now. 'I run a tight ship. My tolerance for horseshit like this is nonexistent. You two are under arrest. Guards.' After a slight revamp, it's -gasp- Biscuit's first Power! Stop the presses!
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Post by Lady Kara on Oct 19, 2010 1:05:22 GMT -5
Nagisa was sad to part company with Helen, though relieved to finally be able to resume her search for her room. Giving a parting sort of nod towards Masquerade as she left, Nagisa then turned and left herself - walking casually down the hall. Several minutes later of searching and still not finding where her room could be, she could sense there was some kind of commotion going on somewhere aboard the train. Though a part of her curiously wished to see what was going on, she didn't want to get involved in whatever mess it was. This was to be a grand vacation after all, a pleasant break from training with Kaina'mei and such. Adventures may be exciting when they happen, but she was getting tired of battling monsters and fiends so often.
As she made her way through the next car, hearing the muffled noises from the car that trouble was rumbling in, Nagisa couldn't help but get the odd feeling that she wasn't alone in the hallway she was walking through. So much in fact, that she kept having to look behind her - half expecting to see the glimpse of whoever or whatever it was that was following her like some ominous shadow. Even Raijuu was getting worried, and quietly commented to her telepathicly.
[[["Lady Nagisa, something isn't right in this car. I fear that you might be in danger of some kind, but am uncertain as to what. I suggest that you be ready for battle at any moment, and I shall gladly lend you my power if necessary to protect you from harm. So peculiar, this presence I am sensing. It's not magical, nor a ghost or fiend... yet it can't be human, either. Please be careful."]]]
Taking a few cleansing breaths in order to calm herself after receiving Raijuu's message, she resumed her journey, making sure to keep her eyes and ears at attention for any sign of her stalker... and being at the ready to speedily unsheath the dagger that she had hidden in one of her boots.
OOC: This would be a good time for someone to interrupt this icky scenario. I'd hate for things to get scary too soon. (not to mention that I do intend for Nagisa to not be the only one in trouble; her persuer is a threat to many on board this train...)
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Post by Beelzebibble on Oct 21, 2010 22:18:11 GMT -5
OOC: I'm waiting on Ninety and hopefully SV before continuing the Giarrettiera thread, and Loogs ought to take the next post atop the train since she's got questions from Lee to answer.
So what in the hell does that leave me to do. Hmm. I am stumped.
Really stumped.
Man. Somewhere between eight and a dozen years prior to the present unfoldingsThe steady breeze carried in the smell of apples and fallen leaves. The window had been slid as far up as possible. The girl drummed her fingers on the wooden pane with her free hand. She looked up briefly, looked back down, and then looked up again. A flicker of brighter red than the maroon, orange and brown leaves of the apple tree had caught her eye. A cardinal had perched on one of the highest branches. The girl waved, but didn't get the bird's attention. It was young maybe, the bird, still small and squat. The girl stared at it for another moment before a stronger gust came though. The cardinal held on even as the leaves rustled around it, but the wind ruffled the pages wildly and the girl had to turn away from the window to find her place again. The first draft of TUH is more than half finished, and for some weeks its characters have been assuming a fitful and cloudy reality. Now a minor one named Glassglue has materialized at the head of the stairs as his creator is about to go down to dinner. Mr Earbrass was aware of the peculiarly unpleasant nubs on his greatcoat, but not the blue-tinted spectacles. Glassglue is about to mutter something in a tone too low to be caught and, stepping sideways, vanish.
"Materialized," mouthed silently the girl who was somewhere between six and ten years old. She'd never seen the word before. But it was an easy one to figure out. She didn't even need to consult the dictionary. She pictured Glassglue appearing to the writer like a ghost on the staircase. Well, so what if he looked like a ghost? She wasn't afraid of ghosts. She thought the only people who were afraid of ghosts were the people who didn't believe they really existed. So they were afraid of how wrong it would seem if they actually saw one. The girl had never seen a ghost but she knew perfectly well they existed and so she wasn't scared of them. She made the mistake of turning to look back out the window just in time for another breeze to batter her curly hair. Though it was already messy enough that there really wasn't much difference. She picked up the apple off the pane and took another bite as she went on. Mr Earbrass has been rashly skimming through the early chapters, which he has not looked at for months, and now sees TUH for what it is. Dreadful, dreadful, [/font] DREADFUL. He must be mad to go on enduring the unexquisite agony of writing when it all turns out drivel. Mad. Why didn't he become a spy? How does one become one? He will burn the MS. Why is there no fire? Why aren't there the makings of one? How did he get in the unused room on the third floor?[/size]
"Unexquisite" was new but she already knew "exquisite" so there was nothing hard there. She didn't feel as though either of those words could be that helpful anyway. "Materialized" was way better. "Drivel" gave her a little more pause -- she wanted to think it had something to do with driving -- but that didn't make any sense. She reached out for the dictionary. Then she decided she didn't need it. She could tell what it meant really. Bad stuff. Worthless stuff. The rest of it was easy except she didn't know what "MS" stood for. Oh well. It probably wouldn't be very useful either. Neither would "drivel". This was all drivel honestly, except "materialized" -- "materialized" was good. She said it again without the "-d". Aloud this time. Just for practice. "Materialize." A little boy, her age probably, laughed suddenly somewhere outside. She glared down at the words as she pulled a loose thread out of her sweater. If she had her way, she'd be out there playing too. She wished she could at least take the book out and sit on the hammock... But there was too much wind. Of course she shouldn't have been reading at all on a cloudy but otherwise great autumn afternoon. The only reason she did it was -- Well that was hard to explain. She sighed and turned the page. As she pushed the book back a little to give her elbows room, she knocked the apple onto the carpet. It rolled over toward the heater. The little girl stooped down from the chair to fetch it, and held it up in both small hands for examination. Still good. She wiped it inattentively before taking another bite. She looked out the window again. The cardinal was still there in the highest branches of the tree. It was pecking at something indistinguishable in the bark. Also, there was a boy with hair the color of the leaves standing beneath the tree. He was dressed in a long coat and hat. Neither fit him very well. As the cardinal suddenly darted down to a lower branch, the boy flinched and then laughed again. OOC: Lest anyone think I wrote that quoted fiction, I'd better set the record straight as soon as possible. Oh, and in case it wasn't clear, everything continues aboard the train in the present as normal. This is a solo scene, in fragments.
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Post by ch00beh on Oct 22, 2010 5:25:12 GMT -5
A young girl, somewhere around 10 or 12, with blond hair and bright green eyes laughs as she fallso through the other girl's wall. She pulls out a balisong and twirls it around her hand as if she had been training for more years than she had. Another flick of the wrist and the butterfly knife sails through the air and lands in the book-girl's right eye
(POHATU SEZ: This is what strikethrough text is for my friends!)
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SV
Friendliest Member of ALL TIME
The Friendliest Member Of ALL TIME
Posts: 2,250
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Post by SV on Oct 22, 2010 15:44:01 GMT -5
The light-headed girl regained composure from her vivid hallucination toward the other end of the bar, where she proceeded to order a whiskey and continue to talk to herself. "Well." Sarosin blinked at his associate. His expression was one that would easily be bemused if he'd had any idea what had just happened or what the appropriate response might be. He wasn't sure the others in the bar were any less lost than he. Deciding that there wasn't anything much else to say, Sarosin repeated, "Well." He was beginning to feel very uneasy. Sarosin would never go so far as to say that he might have powers or any bogus junk like that. But he had déjà vu, and he had hunches, crazy hunches, and he had these frequently; it hadn't taken him long to figure out that the more closely he followed these – well, not premonitions – the better off he was. And at this moment in time, he was beginning to get some very urgent hunches regarding the stoic man who had recently arrived at the bar. (For the life of him, he couldn't put his finger on this guy. His demeanor was so much like...well, similar, anyway, but decidedly not the right man...Maybe it was something in his face? His nose or jawline or eyes or something. So familiar.) There were two exits to the car: one, nearest to the psychotic whiskey-drinking girl, with whom he did not particularly feel like trifling; and the one through which he'd entered the bar. Decidedly the safer of the two exits, the latter was nevertheless blocked (well, not physically) by the quiet type he had so fervently decided to get away from. Regardless of the vibes, though, the man really had no reason to waylay him. There was no reason he couldn't just sort of edge by— "'Scuse me, gentlemen," Sarosin announced, setting his glass down behind him with parting finality. "Yoshimitsu." He nodded to the blue-haired kid then stood up, watching the door as though it might move away from him at any moment and blatantly avoiding looking at the bespectacled man. Potatoh, feel free to interrupt his departure or follow him or whatever you see fit. If there's going to be an encounter with him and the G-bros, though, I imagine Yoshi should not witness it.
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Post by Loogs on Oct 26, 2010 20:56:20 GMT -5
Dimitri poked his furry head out to lick Thyra's hand in a friendly greeting gesture. "It's really nice to see you too, Thyra. We missed you."
Ivan lifted Dimitri out of his sleeve and cradled the small fox in his arms. "We haven't done much else except wander and travel around. After we and Hector severed ties, we went on a trip around the world. Had to stop at Argentina though, I caught some nasty bug while I was there and then we lost all of our camping gear, completely broke with no other place to stay."
"I'm not kidding when I say this guy is absolutely meshugenah. Travel, travel, travel! It's all he thinks about! I can't get any rest whatsoever. It's always 'Let's hike up this mountain' or 'Let's go see this festival in this city all the way over there.' I mean, it's fun, but I wish he'd take a break." Dimitri yawned, stretched, and reclined inside the snug nook created by Ivan's crossed arms. "Plus, he can't let me eat in peace."
"Dimitri, you always complain so much, but you stick with me anyway. You have fun traveling with me and you know it."
"I know, but I still think we should take breaks in between. If you keep wandering around like this you'll wear your feet down to bloody stumps. Maybe rent a nice summer cottage in the country somewhere."
"Maybe if we weren't so broke, but sometimes I think you're on to something. Maybe we'll go stay with Hector and the Summoners for a couple months, how does that sound?"
"Ugh, of all the people you could have picked, why Hector."
"Because I hear he could use a good friend these days. Poor guy's not doing so well, I hear he's been having trouble with his wife."
"That's because he sleeps with everything that moves!"
"Dimitri, what kind of brother are you? I think we should drop by and say hi. Maybe go camping with him somewhere new and exotic."
Dimitri whined.
"At least Hector enjoys traveling with me." Ivan chuckled, scratching behind Dimitri's ears as a sort of compensation for putting up with him being such a... what did he call it again? A nudnik?
"Yes, Ivan, you're a complete nudnik sometimes. That's what my father would have said."
"Your distinctively Yiddish diction always amuses me."
"Your distinctively insufferable crazy amuses me too."
Ivan smiled. Dimitri could complain all he wanted about weary legs and empty stomachs, but inside he knew that he and Ivan were inseparable. He looked up at Thyra and asked, "And how have you been since we last saw you, Miss Russell? We want to hear about the interesting things you've seen."
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Post by Ninety on Oct 27, 2010 12:12:34 GMT -5
Kyle knew just enough Italian to grin a little during the man's phone call. He straightened up when the man turned to address him.
"Well sir, since the bottle that drink came from isn't really supposed to exist, I don't think it'd be a good idea for me to charge you for it. Consider it a gift or a free sample. I can help you with the second request, though."
Kyle turned to a phone on the wall where lights flashed next to a list of train cars. The back portion of the train was completely lit and new lights were popping up as he watched.
"It looks like everyone's already looking for your brother's friend. I can definitely call him a doctor though. What car is he in?"
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Post by ch00beh on Oct 31, 2010 4:21:00 GMT -5
"Upsetting paradigms isn't really what I do," Rie said. Death handed her the whiskey on the rocks she had ordered. "I figure my existence is already enough of an upset paradigm." The girl took a sip. "But, money I am okay with. If an employer wants me to turn things on their head, then I'm fine with that." She eyed the man's hand and thought for a minute. Crazy guy, but she'd known worse. She took another sip of her drink, then extended her own hand to take his. His grip was harder than hers. One day I will be able to post good
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Post by Beelzebibble on Nov 11, 2010 1:48:02 GMT -5
From behind the protective stance of his arms, both elbows on the table and hand cupped over fist, Nico's face arose. He rested his chin on one thumb, his lips on one knuckle, and considered letting the man in the trenchcoat go. He did not owe his older brother any favors; in fact, to Nico's knowledge, it was Cesare who was currently in debt to him, and Nico would so hate to inconvenience his brother by skewing the accounts even further in his own favor. Meanwhile, though, the indelible fact remained that a Giarrettiera had, at least apparently, been robbed.
To say this would not do wasn't quite putting it in enough detail. This would be undone. Nullified. Stricken from the record.
There was simply not a man capable of getting the better of the Giarrettieras, not like this. By plotting, by calculation, by preparation, yes, perhaps some temporary victory could be scored; Nico had no reason to pretend to himself no enemy had ever thwarted their family in such a way. But not this crude animal act of larceny, this simple movement of the hand. There was no man who could profit off the Giarrettieras with such a gesture. And if he dared flatter himself that he'd managed it, such a man thought so only because he could not yet apprehend the full picture and his imminent correction.
Nico uncupped his hand to adjust his glasses. Then he patted his pocket. Next he stood up and followed the other man out of the room.
He certainly hoped this was the correct target, as Nico had already experienced one conversation awkward enough to tide him over for another few hours. Steeling his resolve was the fact that so far he had not seen any other dickwads in trenchcoats aboard the King Thomas.
* * *
The trenchcoat flapped around Rhometer's form in a way that was not necessarily obeisant to the direction of the bracing wind. He clapped his hands as the green tiger and the teal anteater chased each other around his head. "That's's really cool!" he told the racket man Zebedee. "How you maked that those! I can make stuff too. Did I -- Oh." The very thought of telling Zebedee this was making him grin too hard to talk. Higgledy Piggledy sighed and Rhometer ignored him.
"Did I tell you I maked this train?" He nodded ferociously for evidence. "THE HOLE TRAIN. From the um the front part all the way to--"
* * *
"The caboose, I'm assuming, or the next car up from it," Massimo said. "I'm sure if the doctor can't find him right away, they'll at least notice some blood to follow. My brother seems to like trailing it around melodramatically at times like this!" He stood up, achieving less height than when he'd sat on the stool. "It's good to know there's a medical unit aboard. Though perhaps treating a stabbed foot would be beneath them? I can only imagine they'd have prepared for the train to crash into an aircraft..."
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Prime
Saeptum Agent
1%
Agent of Truth
Posts: 399
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Post by Prime on Nov 11, 2010 2:05:08 GMT -5
Prime thoroughly searched the next compartments after disenguaging himself from the great oaf who'd assailed him, though now he was having some doubts about his response. The man seemed to have hesitated during the end, but Prime had been to caught up in his own pain and outrage to consider that.
In any event, he searched the compartments thoroughly until he found was he was looking for, though it wasn't quite what he'd had in mind. It was an ordinary fabric trench coat, colored a deep tan. He couldn't exactly complain that it didn't match his attire, as he thought himself lucky to find one at all.
But he hated tan, with passion. Tree or people colored coats were just, odd. But, though with some hesitation, he pulled it on. And continued his search. The coat covered his weapons fairly well, and he was aware that he must be causing a commotion by now. He certainly hasn't expected Nopcsa to lead him such a merry chase, though he'd prefer the man be significantly less merry when he caught up with him.
He was not finding the sexual tension associated with his attempts to kill him, even REMOTELY comfortable. He was almost tempted to just avoid the man, his harassment was bloody unnerving.
At length he pushed his way into a section of the train apparently cleared out. He found his mark.
He also found several guards and the trains conductor, and the guards were armed with electrical pain infliction devices. There were also a lot of them. Prime slowly put his hands up.
"I haven't killed anyone, I don't really want to aside from him," He said, nodding at Nopcsa, "Don't hit me and I won't hit you..."
He paused, and seemed to be thinking carefully for a moment.
"Actually, if you do come near me, turn your shock stick off... I'd hate for there to be any accidents." He said, grinning mildly.
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