call me out!

[mundaati]

OPEN POST
-my muselist is here
-mention who you want in the subject line
-leave me a prompt/picture/whatever
-???
-profit

Comments

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[videcormeum]

sticks his leggy out

[amende]

[ The work of an empress is never done it seems and while Jessamine refuses to rest Corvo won't either. He's spent some of the evening patrolling the tower both within and without as is proper for the Lord Protector. Though as the hour grows late and the light in her study is still lit he decides it may be time to stage an intervention between Jessamine and the reports on her desk. It doesn't take much time to find his weapon of choice and slip into Jessamine's office.

The lord protector holds up a bottle of good Serkonan whiskey that he's been saving for a rainy day and two glasses he liberated from a drink cart on another floor. ]

Care for a break? [ He pours out a generous serving into each. ] Though I suppose I can finish this alone if you'd rather read more financial reports.

corvo das unseemly

[videcormeum]

[The work of an empress is fraught with a seemingly endless supply of papers, edicts and official decrees, molten wax stamped with her seal and sent away to the furthest reaches of the empire. There are times it concerns her how distant so many of those places seem, the extant edges of the map to which she has not traveled, but still rules. Understanding the countries in their entirety is a difficult trial and so she has more recently tasked herself with edification. It may take some of the burden off of the decisions she has to make for their futures.

So caught up in the parchment she often loses track of time - more so now when she has turned down the whale oil lamps and lit a number of fat candles, oozing lower every minute. It is therefore startling when she is interrupted, almost upsetting a pot of thick ink when he slips in through one of the windows.]

Corvo.

[Jessamine's heart swells in her chest as always, his name slipping unbidden in a sigh that her Royal Protector should appear wielding a bottle, vessels, and a secret smile.]

You could not be more timely, [she admits, moving around the desk to examine the glasses before relieving him of one. This close to him the smoky curl of the whiskey and the windswept scent of him is enough to drive her to delirium.] Have you come to rescue me, Lord Protector?

For Tex

[epsilol]

[ They have him running scenarios. They pried him out of Carolina's head with threats and stuck him in a box to run odds on combat scenarios and he is going to fucking lose it. Each repeat sets his code on edge and makes it harder to focus on what he needs to do. He needs to find Carolina, needs to get back to the others. The problem is that Charon isn't completely stupid. Their soldiers don't have the neural interfaces that he could have used to escape. He's stuck there.

In the end he does what he does best. He delegates working the scenarios to most of the memory fragments while he does the last thing he ever wanted to do. He turns to Omega. ]

I told you I'd be here if you needed me.

Yeah, don't get used to it, asshole.

[ It takes a few cycles to figure out the plan and, most importantly, keep Omega from fucking it up. But once they have the timing down Epsilon pulls the other fragments back to him and uses Omega as a wedge to make a crack in the system so he can reach the comms systems. He doesn't have much time before the internal security protocols will smack him down so he does the only thing he can. He broadcasts a message on every band that might be watched by Wash. It isn't the time for delicacy, he just shotguns as much information onto every channel he can get his grubby little digital fingers on before he's shut down.

It's not pretty but on every band in range starts to broadcast his cry for HELP GODDAMMIT. ]

[failureisntachoice]

[ Tex had been fortunate in a way she had never experienced in her life. All of her previous efforts had resulted in crash landings, explosions, and failures beyond measure despite all of her training and determination otherwise. But she'd always managed to survive. The crash landing of the pelican had her wondering if this would be it, the final blast to cause her storage unit to fail and her no way to back-up. It's when her body is moveable, her memory intact, that she realizes it's not her time yet.

So she leaves. She gets the hell away from the canyon of Valhalla to get her bearings. Wherever she had ended up in relation to the Reds and Blues, this was a lot more peaceful. No Omega, no yapping sim troopers. She missed the idiots in the way, but she had always needed her space from them. This was no different.

What is different is the broadcast that reaches her comms. What the hell? Is that--?

She has never prepared more for an assault on a building before. If that's who she thinks it is and he needs help then nothing is going to stop her from reaching her goal. Guns loaded and camouflage unit ready, she executes her break-in to Charon Industries. It's a familiar assignment although she has to account for changes to security and whatever extra measures are in place once they realized what message was sent out.

But none of that is going to stop her from going in, guns blazing if needed and finding his storage room. ]