01. Video

Apr. 25th, 2014 09:13 pm
5thchild: (pic#5296842)
[personal profile] 5thchild
[ Kaworu is lost. Can you blame him? He was sent to a city to live by himself after he spent all his life inside a laboratory. He has no idea what is like to live in a society, he never worked or went to school - and now he is out in the open, is a student and was given a job. Even though he is lost, let's be honest, he's probably not all that worried about finding his way. So, since he is lost, he decides to sit down, watch people pass by and meet new people: you.

When the video feed starts, Kaworu is smiling because that's what he does all the time. A gentle, kind and caring smile, somewhat weird because why would you be smiling when you are lost ]

My name is Kaworu Nagisa and I was recently brought to this world. [ and before anything else, he has a question ] I'd like to know if someone by the name of Shinji Ikari is here. He is fourteen years old, has dark hair and blue eyes. Frail like glass. Afraid of close contact with other beings. [ kaworu. no.

And now that is out of the way ]
I'm also lost. I have never been to a city by myself before, and I never went to school or had a job. Sunday Church pianist seems interesting, though. [ red eyes look around for a moment, only to watch someone pass by, smiling softly ]

Do you enjoy your life here, in this world? Even if you were brought in against your will, how is it like?

[ ooc: Action is also welcome! ]
nestingdevil: ➥ pantaloons@dreamwidth (♠ } let's strike a bargain and see)
[personal profile] nestingdevil
[The recording starts with a catch of a ceiling made of low-grade wood. It's alight with a sickly red-yellow; fading with each wafting-pass of spindling smoke. The lights above are older and the bulbs have obviously seen their fair share of cigarette smoke and dust. They bleed bleary through, but it's a dim effort at best.]

[For the most part, the place seems rather quiet - the lull spinning of a fan blade above, some sort of tune playing out a jukebox nearby: "-wraps her lips around the Mexican coke, makes you wish you were the bottle, takes a sip of your soul and it sounds like - "]

[But a sudden clanking of glassware interrupts the surface and then:]

Oi, oi, oi - careful with that, won't ya?

[The voice is low; swayed by a baritone, humming out each note. However, despite the chiding, it seems pleasant enough. A bit snide and sing song as a palm and accompanying fingers snatch at the feed. For a moment, it's a bit of a washout. The bar cut-off by the smothering hand before Greed rights it again. The angle catches his jaw line, his rather signature smile. Laced to the brim with teeth to match as he snaps his fingers to someone off camera.] We just opened, you know. No need to make things messy, all right?

[The phone's propped up; shoved at a vertical angle a bit carelessly to catch a glimpse of the owner's back and shoulder. Before it clacks dully against the side of a bottle, showing off a growing collection. The place is hardly worth a second look at; dusty and dark. Grim like the next back alley hell hole and Greed sways his hand back and forth.] Eh- don't worry about it.

[But unlike the first time he used the device, he's very much aware now. And after the conversation's good and done, the Sin slips a glance back to the feed. An arch of the eyebrow's the only signal he's actually paying attention. Because those shades are just a tad too dark. As he recoils on the recording, tipping over the jut of his hip with a terrible sort of grin.] I'm sure you're all still a bit busy, but I figured it's as good a time as any.

[Greed tilts his head to the side playfully and two-fingers laced touch his collar bone. Stretching out as he makes the best mock of a bow.] In case we haven't met, the name's Greed. But I'm sure that's not really what you're interested in.

[A heel clunks against the floorboards below; he's circling both the bar and the feed. Straightening as he talks. As he curves and cuts with fishtail precision.] I usually don't do this sort of thing, so consider it a one time deal. [An index sways out, tilting in the direction of an unseen wall.] Bring something worth it and it may earn you a drink on the house. Otherwise, consider it all half off for the day.

[Thunk, thunk he goes until he's got both knees swaying in opposite directions. He shows off his other hand, the one tattooed-red against the backside of his palm.] It's called The Devil's Nest. You can't really miss it.

[With that, he extends a finger forward. And after a few minutes of fiddling, the feed goes black.]

[ video ]

Apr. 13th, 2014 04:14 pm
hostage: (laughing ☣)
[personal profile] hostage
[The video opens with a view like this. Jesse walks across the balcony, filming the scenery rather than himself, but he's narrating:]

Ugh, oh my goddd... Look how blue that is. Just, like, really blue. That's insane.

[He's not paying attention to where he's going, apparently, because he bumps into a table and knocks over a few empty beer bottles. It's not visible, but the sound's unmistakable, really.]

Shit - haha.

[He turns the camera around on himself, waving and smiling around a hand-rolled cigarette that's stuck between his lips. He's not wearing a shirt, so enjoy the view of his bony, blinding white chest and the horrible Chinese dragon tattoo over his heart. On the bright side, his burns from the museum fire are long gone?]

'sup, Heropa. Just wanted to let you know I'm totally not coming back. I'm staying in Miami for, like, ever. Have fun with the creeps and the psychos up there. It's been a pleasure. Except not.
waywardspirit: (Mmmmmhhhmmmmm)
[personal profile] waywardspirit
[ Please don't ask him why he's sitting on a park bench covered in a pile of sleeping children. He's not going to explain. Though judging by the bright orange HEROPA DAY CAMP - COUNSELOR t-shirt that matches all the tiny HEROPA DAY CAMP t-shirts surrounding him, the answer should be obvious.

He shifts slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position without disturbing them, and then sighs softly.

I mean, I get it. Free stuff and you get to work for the government, that's cool. But doesn't anybody ever get - I dunno, homesick? Do you ever miss your f- [ He starts to say family, but apparently thinks better of it. ] - do you ever miss people? Or your life back home?

[ He rubs the back of his neck, unusually subdued, at least it may seem that way to the few people who've already met him. ]

What do you do if you left the one thing that's most important to you back home? Do you just not think about it? Try to get back, even if it's impossible? Or do you just wait it out and hope maybe you'll get to go home one day?
gevurah: (vic sage is still magical)
[personal profile] gevurah
That didn't take long, did it?

[ Unsurprisingly, Kate sounds tired to some extent. What is surprising, to her at least, is that she isn't as tired as she had anticipated being after finally being cured of her mania. No longer are her words bursting with vigor, her voice tempered and quiet. ]

Something was bound to happen not too long after imPorts began to show up here again. [ A beat. ] Just like the City. I wonder what comes next.

[ There are footsteps in the background, padded and soft; not hers, for anyone with good ears. ]

The more things change, the more they stay the same, hm? A pessimistic expression, I'm aware. Maybe I need to change it up a little for my own pleasure. Familiarity is nice, but repetition gets boring quickly. [ Another pause. ] The fifties was known for its experimentation with culture and style.



Mar. 4th, 2014 08:21 pm
caladrius: (As a rusty moon fills the sky)
[personal profile] caladrius
Where I'm from, our powers tended to manifest themselves as magic-- in fact, the only powers one could have no matter the method was magic. Magic that made you stronger. Magic spells for healing injuries and some illnesses, and even creating those ailments in the first place. Magic solely for combat. Even magic that called for creatures to aid you. It's structured, tiered even, and the more you used what magic you had with you, the more spells you learned and the stronger you became. It comes from within you and in your hands it can have an elemental affinity, if you wanted.

And yet here... it's different. Here, it's not all magic. [Hope pauses to think of how he's going to properly describe what he knows of the powers here. To be honest, he doesn't even know how to do that, so he's just going to give up, since he'll just be asking people to describe their abilities anyway.] It's... well, words fail me, to be honest.

What are your abilities like? What can you do? What are your limitations? If you had them before you arrived here, how did you come by them, and are they any different here?

I hope you don't mind me asking. I'm honestly curious, really, because magic itself is rare and in my youth, the stuff of either legends or fairy tales to scare children into behaving. Here, I imagine, powers could be anything. [And there's a small note of wonder because yes, this is all new and weird, but exciting too.]

Good morning. My name is Hope Estheim-- or Alexander, if you prefer aliases.


Feb. 28th, 2014 08:28 pm
connate: (01)
[personal profile] connate
[ when the feed clicks on, it's easy to tell that nick's in the kitchen, probably one that's similar to most in the issued residencies. his tone's a far cry from casual, but the fact that he's apparently wasting time at home at least offers some semblance of nonchalance. ]

My name is Nick Burkhardt. I'm with the Portland— previously of the PPB, currently with the... [ a pause, and extremely reluctantly: ] Heropa PD.

[ that's the formal introduction out of the way. which is the easy part; identify yourself, follow routine. going out of his way to make friends isn't something nick's done in a long time, which is probably going to be obvious in roughly ten seconds. his effort to drop the professional approach ends up sounding more neutral than genuinely amicable, but at least it keeps this from sounding like a full-on interrogation. ]

I wasn't planning on getting a tattoo, but given the choice I'd have gone for something a little less on the nose. And while I'm sure cops everywhere would appreciate the vote of confidence, something tells me this place is working with a flexible definition of the word hero.

[ definitely a judgement on what he's seen on the network rather than any kind of careful introspection. no offense. ]

Everyone's talking about whether or not we should register. I'm wondering what gives us the right to in the first place. [ a slight pause, and then he has the decency to sound a bit wry at his own expense. ] So on a scale of recycling to wearing spandex, how heroic do you think you rate?


maskormenace: (Default)