Mar. 28th, 2017

magnitudes: (( undercover disaster 8. ))
[personal profile] magnitudes
( Behold— another Tatiana? Really? What?

She has red hair, heavy eyeliner, and is wearing a roller derby uniform. The helmet's black, and printed on the side is Bouncing Betty. Her lip looks busted, she's got a fast blooming black eye, and she’s unclipping her helmet as she speaks, walking down the street - or skating, more specifically, but slowly. )


Hey, strangers. Name’s Maggie Dalton. New arrival.

( The accent, while not bad, is just a little… too much. Too Chicago, too much emphasis on the little tilts and turns of accent and inflection that make a voice sound authentic. Convincing, but natives to Chicago and those familiar could pick up it's not entirely... right. )

Honestly, I’m real freaked out. I mean— what the hell, right? This shit is insane. I just, I don’t know if I can get through this without a jibarito and some pilsener. Thankfully, even this God damn sweatbox of a state has hot dogs. Not as good as the aforementioned, but I'll make it work, y'know?

( Oh hey, look, she turns the device around, so the recording takes in some hot dogs, and condiments. The camera jerks, and there's a sound of disgust. When it refocuses, it's on a hot dog in her hand, adorned with ketchup. I mean, tomahta sauce in Australian, but whatever. She's in character. )

Hey, what the hell, man? Ketchup, are you for real? You don't just sling ketchup around on hot dogs like you're decorating a damn Tarantino set, what the hell's wrong with you? Nah, man, I'll pass on your dogs, thanks.

( Fact: she paid the vendor before making this video and ate about three hot dogs. Another fact: she may never tell anyone that. Third fact: the camera is focused back on "Maggie," now. )

Some people, am I right? Fuck. I haven't been this mad since my car got rear ended last time I went to see the Bears.

( More like, da Behrs. Her gaze, which had flickered off-screen for a moment, slides back to the camera, and she grins. It might be a familiar grin, all mischief and ridiculousness, and when next she speaks the Chicago-ish one has evaporated to reveal a broad, Australian nightmare. )

Hah ha-ha, just kidding, it’s Sarissa, reporting for duty. I need some hair dye to get this back to normal, and some arnica or something. I think I'm gonna have wheel marks across my ribs, to be honest, and I ain't got a single clue how that happened.

( She leans back, and tests the busted up part of her lip with the tip of her tongue, before continuing. There's a slight air of tension in her, for the familiar, but she might seem just as obnoxious as always to everyone else. )

So... how long have I been gone? What’s happening, what’s new, any sweet goss I need to be caught up on? And hey, have any of you ever thought about how waves kinda look like the ocean is flexing?

( She clears her throat, and after a moment of hesitation, it might be apparent that maybe she's not entirely as relaxed as she seems. )

Saroula, if you’re watching, you got enough cash handy to shout me a cab fare?

( Please still be here, please let Sarah and Cosima be here. )

text;

Mar. 28th, 2017 10:40 pm
112ounces: (let people know my wisdom)
[personal profile] 112ounces
[ Carl is kinda done with kind of nonsense. ]

So is it safe to assume this whole month long thing with the mirages is the Porter's fault again? Or is it some kind of weird imPort thing again? Both?

[ In all honesty, Carl usually treats the Porter like it's a force of nature. Rainstorms happen, tornadoes wreck havoc, and springtime always bring allergy season. But considering the Porter is still in the hands of the government and not of imPorts, sometimes Carl will give serious thought as to what would life here be like if the Porter were in imPort hands. ]

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