string_theory | Open rp post

Entry tags:

Preferences:
GENERAL: I'll play with anyone, so long as you give me something to respond to, more than the occasional one-liner. and no godmoding my characters.
AUs: I love love love AUs. Love them.
SHIPPING: Depends on the character, some of my character can ship with anyone, some not so much, but I am always willing to do gen stuff if a ship does work.
KINKS: Often depends on the character. I'm not going to judge you for asking if you're unsure, and am always willing to try to find something that does work.

Prompts:
ALTERNATE UNIVERSE
1) High School
2) Hooker
3) Alpha/Beta/Omega
4) Criminal/Cop
5) Mermaid
6) Dark Tower
7) High fantasy
8) Paranormal
9) Harry Potter
10) Post Apocolypse
11) Zombies
12) Historical
13) Other?

ROMANCE/SMUT
1) First Date
2) Cuddling
3) Cooking
4) First Time
5) Break-up
6) The Moment After
7) The Morning After
8) Proposal
9) Wedding Day
10) Pregnancy
11) Baby
12) Children
13) Hurt/Comfort
14) BDSM - Non-sexual
15) BDSM - Sexual
16) Mindfucking
17) Dubious Consent
18) One-Night Stand
19) Mating Cycles/In Heat
20) Hatesex
21) Other!

ACTION/OTHER
1) Shipwrecked on an island
2) Hunting a killer
3) Bar fight!
4) Car chase
5) Alien attack
6) In jail
7) Captured/kidnapped
8) Stockholm Syndrome
9) In the middle of a war
10) Crash
11) Other!

What to do:
- Tag below with a prompt. You don't need to contact me or anything, just go for it!
- Indicate in the subject line which muse you'll be tagging.

- And I will tag you back!

Borrowed from the awesome

cerebel

MUSE LIST | HMD | OPEN RP POST | PREFRENCE POST

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This was the only place she could force her mind into peace.

The woods were her sanity. And she missed Gale out here, but sometimes, she thought she might be better having these moments to herself. It wasn't that there weren't better moment inside the fence, here and there. But in there, she had no control. Out here, she had a little, at least.

She roamed far, wadding to gather herbs from the river side, just now getting warm enough for her to enter, and then going to gather and reset Gale's snares.

And then she found one that was empty.

She froze for only a moment, before melting into the bushes, heart pounding. Maybe a bear, or a wolf could have grabbed that. But not likely. And really, a bear was only slightly easier to deal with than a person.

He's ... not really sure what he's expecting, really. The traps that he's seen are clearly of very skilled make, and just as clearly not something a Peacekeeper would use. Peacekeepers are supposed to be the only ones let out of the fence. Ergo... this is a rebel.

A man, maybe, is what he's expecting. Or a toughened woman. Someone with long years of hunting behind them. Not this girl.

Not, as he realizes, after watching her from up in a tree where he crouches and hides, Katniss Everdeen.

He makes an adjustment to an arrow of his, wrapping a bit of paper around it with the word 'HELLO'. -- C'mon, he's been out here for years, helping smuggle rebels to 13. He hasn't seen the Hunger Games, though he heard word of it. He wants to see if she's as good of an archer as everyone says she is. Nothing like a little game between a couple experts.

In other words, he's bored. And he's lonely.

So he strings the arrow to the bow, aims, and releases it, so that it'll thud straight into a tree a few feet to Katniss' left.

Although she knew someone was out here somewhere, it made her tense when the arrow hit the tree. Close enough that her trying to hide was a joke.

Still, she stayed still for a moment, looking at the arrow. Trying to figure out the angle, the source...when she saw the paper around it. She hesitates for only a moment, before moving swiftly in her under brush and then reaching to retrieve the arrow. It's in deep, solid, but she's use to getting arrow free quickly, and is back in the bushes shortly.

The paper unravel, and she smirks as she see the message. 'Hello'

Maybe a trap, but this didn't seem very much like the style of anyone from the Capitol. She reached to grab a berry, uneatable but richly colored it, and crushed it to get the juice. 'Hi'

And then she wrapped it around the arrow, notched it, and sent it flying into a truck to where she hoped the other was.

And then there's an arrow cutting through the air right to his position and hey, good thing he's on the other side of the tree trunk. He appreciates the aim, the velocity. She has good form. He might even like her, provided she's more than just another Capitol patsy.

He's got a soft spot with ladies and bows and arrows.

Proposal: we share what I got from the snare and also don't shoot each other.

Sent on back.

She plucks it, reading the message and chewing it over for a moment, before stepping out. Bow down.

"Come out then."

He could shoot her down, easily. She swallowed, hoping this wasn't a very stupid choice.

The tree rustles. Branches shift, and there's the sight of a darting form, among them.

He lands on the ground lightly, bow clasped in his hand. He is a hunter; he is obviously a hunter, and someone who is accustomed to killing. But none of that lethal power is focused on her right now.

"Katniss Everdeen, right?" he says. "I've seen pictures."

"Got it in one." She said softly. She's use to people recognizing her where ever she goes of course, it's inescapable now.

But out here, in the woods, it's feels different.

"Do I get your name?"

Oh, it was indeed a war - a war, with the sweetest of rewards.

After all, the last chocolate chip cookie in the house was tucked away safely in a bag in the cupboard right over the coffee maker. This much, Chibi-Usa knew. She also knew that she could only have it after dinner - or else no more sweets for a week. Lastly, she knew there would be no more until Ikuko-mama went shopping, or baked some more, which wouldn't be until the weekend. An eternity.

With a suspicious eye, she looked at her rival - nay, the enemy - as she came down the stairs, doing final adjustments on her ~~school~~ uniform. Surely, Usagi knew as well. Surely, battle for it was inevitable after dinner that night.

Oh, she knew. She knew.

The love for cookies might be genetics, and so maybe she shouldn't hold it against Chibi-usa so much. But there were no rules in love and war, and cookie dough was way than blood or water.

"You going out today?" She asked, leaning against the kitchen door frame, a saccharine smile on her face.

"...Perhaps."

There was no way that Chibi-Usa would go out and not guarantee that Usagi couldn't gain access to the treasure while she was gone. She had to resort to...aha. A false flag operation!

An innocent smile came on the pink girl's face.

"Actually, I was thinking of going to the arcade. You know! Check on Central Command, maybe play some video games."

"Oh?"

This had to be a trick. But still, the idea of the arcade was dangling right before her nose, and really...she could never resist that.

"When?"

If they went together, she could be sure Chibi-UIsa didn't get the cookie, either.

Two months in and Roland's still enjoying teaching much more than he'd expected. He strides along the edges of the courtyard, and the students who stop their conversations and edge away when they notice him watching do not escape his attention. He may be enjoying it, but he would not have chosen himself for the job. Aurors who are both friendly and charming enough to go undercover and gain the trust of children are rare, but they do exist. Roland is not one of them.

He cannot seem to be the type of teacher who is anything other than harsh, demanding, and he has tried. It had made those first few classes awkward and full of alarmed, suspicious glances, and it had not taken him long to remember that when he does go undercover, he cannot seem to do so as anything other than some version of himself.

And so it is that, even on the morning of their first Hogsmeade visit of the year, most of the students - and one of the teachers gathered with them - look at him with only suspicion and wariness. He wouldn't typically mind it, but it is not the position he'd like to be in with people whose trust he's supposed to have been gaining since September.

Though if today goes as expected, he'll have gained some valuable knowledge even without having earned anyone's confidence to get it. He ignores the rain misting down around him and scans the crowd again, looking for the main reason he'd volunteered to chaperone the trip. If the boy's fallen ill or overslept, the day still won't be completely useless, but it will be that much more difficult.

Professor Deschain wasn't exactly Eddie's favorite Professor.

Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn't quite as cursed as rumor had it is once was, but they'd still been through three in Eddie's seven years here. At first he'd hated Professor Deschain.

Now, grudgingly, he was starting to respect him. At least he taught them.

But that still didn't mean his heart didn't sink when he saw the man pacing ahead of him as they headed out to take off for Hogsmeade. Talk about a wet blanket.

"Hey Prof, tagging along?"

"Mm." Roland turns to face the boy and casts his eyes one more time over the crowd, wondering vaguely how Eddie'd slipped past him. "Here to chaperone, as you well know."

Two students start yelling and shoving at one another, and he watches a nearby professor pull them apart. "Though I may have my work cut out for me." It's not the type of information he'd typically share, especially not with a student, but if Eddie thinks him in over his head he may not watch Roland as closely.

Eddie watches the two fight, already knowing the gossip around them, and wondering how the hell Harold Lauder thought he was gonna win that fight in a million years. He glanced back up at Roland as the fight was pulled around, laughing softly.

"This isn't your firsts Hogsmeade, right?"

He hadn't seen Roland there before, but that didn't mean much. As the carriages came to pluck students from the grounds, they moved towards the loosely forming line.

"I've visited it on my own," he says, keeping to the truth, "but only briefly." Nevermind that 'brief' here means 'long enough to make mental maps both of the whole town and the ways people move through it'. It had been as brief as he could make it.

His gaze moves over the carriages, resting on the space in front of them for a moment, and he looks over the rest of the crowd to note whose seems to be doing the same. It's not definite proof of anything, but it is useful. As the teachers reach the front of the line they drift toward their own carriage, and the one who had been not-quite-glaring at him earlier pauses by the doors and looks back at them. Her lips thin, her eyes narrow, and her head tilts up before she climbs in the carriage and shuts the door. It begins, without him, to move away. He sighs.

Eddie doesn't like 'em, and his mood change shows as much. He tried not to talk to much about it, although now days, more kids saw them. Still, those creepy ass horses made his skin crawl in a way he couldn't explain.

"Man, I wish they'd just let us walk." He grumbled, climbing into the carriage with his teacher. He doubted lodging a complaint with authority would do anything, but hey, worth a shot.

Noticing the glances from the woman, he opened his mouth to respond but, for once, shut it. Maybe later.

"The thestrals serve their purpose," he says, pulling up the edges of his cloak and climbing in after. It's a fair guess that the boy sees them, and there's no point in pretending that Roland can't see them either.

He moves to the far side of the seats and leaves the door open, ostensibly to allow any others entrance. Good as the idea of talking one-on-one to the younger of the Dean brothers might seem, it's too obvious at this point. Roland's been watching his fellow teachers, the way they treat their favorites as well as their 'troubled' students, and he's learned not to underestimate how quickly children pick up on who is either.

He glances toward the open door, watching the change come over a young witch's face as she realizes exactly who's inside and moves on quickly. Someone might join them soon. Maybe. It's not as if he's quite that feared, is it? He tries to remember how it'd been in his childhood, whether they'd made such efforts to stay away from their own tutors. The comparison doesn't really work; the castles of Gilead and those of Hogwarts are too different to tell. No matter now. Something more immediate to get back to.

"Or don't you know much of them? The horses that draw these carriages." There's no telling, he's learned, what any of the students have learned year to year in this place.

He shrugged again, warring internally between wanting to discuss them and...not.

Having someone, someone who really might know, to discuss it with won out.

"Nobody really talks much about them." He said, staring out the window, studying one of them harnessed to another carriage. Looking at it was some kind of abject pleasure, the creature on the fine line between disgusting and beautiful.

"I figured out you see them if you see somebody die. That's...about it. And nobody exactly shared that."

After a moment Roland realizes he's going to have to take the risk of looking like he's singling Eddie out, because the rest of the carriages are filling and look like they're about to start moving, and no one's yet given this one more than a glance. He leaves the door open a moment longer anyway, for appearance's sake.

"I've noticed," he says, wondering whether it'd be safe to try to work the topic around to what kind of death it is that Eddie's seen. "Largest trained herd in the country, and to hear people talk you'd think these carriages pulled themselves. I'm fairly sure at least a few of the teachers actually do think that. Well enough for them, I suppose."

Alcohol didn't affect Steve. But the atmosphere seemed right, for the mood he was in. And he could always sit there, a beer in front of him, enjoying the ambiance. Or, well. Enjoying might be the wrong word--it just fit, the scent of despair and loss, unspecified, undefined. He didn't want to lose himself. But he no longer wanted to be alone.

It wasn't anything specific he was looking for, other than a break from an empty apartment.

She looked a little worse for wear, but in this kinda dive, nobody gave her a second look.

It wouldn't be so bad if this job hadn't required her to be all dressed up nice and clean to get some information. Which wouldn't have been so bad if she had had a chance to change before being thrown right into the thick of it.

Now her best suit skirt had a rip nearly up to her thigh, under the blazer she had 3 long, bloody scratches carved into the white button down, and the brand new pair of heels she'd conquered running in had a broken hell.

It was bullshit.

Luckily the scratches were shallow, and she'd already splashed and bandaged them. All she wanted right now was a stiff drink or 5 before hitting the hard bed in the motel next door.

Sitting next to the blond man, she gave a quick glance, with a hitched up smirk to go with it, registering that he was damn good looking, before lifting her arm for the bartender.

"Rough night?" Steve said. He wasn't sure why he spoke up. He'd learned, by now, that doing so more often than not resulted in the kind of attention he got a little too much of lately. It was refreshing, in a way--women stating, openly, what they wanted. But he wasn't used to it, and he couldn't really deliver, so more often than not this sort of thing left him feeling like he'd offered and couldn't deliver. When really all he meant was...

Rough night?

"You have no idea."

Glancing over at him, she paused for a moment. Something about him looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. Had she been in this bar before? Not that she could recall, but who knew.

When the bartender came over she ordered a whiskey, splurging a little on quality. She had earned it.

"What about you? Drowning any sorrows tonight?"

He'd seen that look before. He preferred vague recognition to instant fascination or overt ogling. But he winced, slightly, at her words. "Drowning? No, I wouldn't say so. I've had enough drowning for one lifetime. Let's say... soaking."

As one of the most powerful Seers in the world, Altalita has been known to see any and all through her wanderings. She typically travels with shows, these days. Hiding in plain sight and getting to where she Needs to be.

Particularly without question.

It's not like she exactly hid her presence as the Amazing Altalita, Seer Extraordinaire.

This wasn't the first show she'd traveled with, and probably wouldn't be the last, but as to why she was drawn to Tokyo, she couldn't precisely say just yet. Fate was never a clear and concise mistress. So things would probably become clear soon enough.

(Kinda generic, but gets us started)

It was of course part of his business to stay aware of the scene. A hard part, now, when he felt he did not deserve to be there. But few actually knew that aspect.

Because it was part of his business, he did his best to stay abreast of any one who claimed they had powers. Especially when it seemed they did. Which, as far as he could see, this woman seemed to. A dreamseer, possibly. Either way, he wanted to see her face to face. Which is how the awkward, tired looking man with the two colored eyes ended up stepping into the show.

"Are you Altalita?" He said softly, dipping his head in a respectful but small bow.

It was the good old fashioned tactic employed by so many: Hide in plain sight. Where people expected things to be a little weird or a little off, and they didn't really look too hard at the details of the situation to realize who or what she was.

Not that Altalita really had any shame about who she was (though there were some out there who debated whether she had any shame to begin with, as flirty and playful as she was), but the Fateweaver was a powerful individual. A boon to so many, but a risk to so many others.

To say nothing of the fact that her visions allowed her to see the many branching paths of Fate all at once.

In Tokyo, she stands out. She's some flavor of mixed, but mostly Caucasian. At least if her pale, never-really-tanning skin was any indication. Long, straight black hair, with little glass beads threaded throughout it (today, they were a glittering red, matching her ankle-length dress).

But in contrast to his mis-matched eyes, Altalita's were an intense, bright blue. A commonality between all the Fateweavers if you happened to meet more than one in your lifetime. Although that was rare, since there was Only One.

"I am indeed, the Amazing Altalita," She replies with a bright grin, twirling her hands to make her bracelets click against each other and doing a sweeping, admittedly overdramatic bow that was playful and overt all at once. The billowing sleeves of her dress, and her long hair, accenting the movements, "Seer of the many twisting paths of Fates and Fortunes, who might you be, dear?"

Whether she knew who or what he was was deliberately unclear. Altalita might be the Fateweaver, but that doesn't mean she knows everything. Despite her powers as a Seer, she's still very much human. And Free Will can still surprise her, and catch her off guard. Better to be cautious, play up the show a little and see what Subaru does before getting more serious.

Edited (Typos are fun!) 2017-01-31 19:20 (UTC)

"I'm Subaru." It was, of course, strange for him to offer only his first name. But he doubted she would realize that, and he was not ready to commit to a fake name if it could be avoided. But he also didn't want to show his own cards too fast. Especially when he knew so little about the woman in front of him.

Except that she was something else. And something strong.

He sank into the seat across from her, his movements walking a fine line between graceful and awkward, someone who was very well trained to live in a body they did not feel comfortable in. Hands clasped before him, he offered her a small, disarming smile.

"I came to get my fortune read."

Something else. Something strong. Something old. ...And short. For all her power, the Seer stood at a not terribly intimidating five foot four.

Altalita typically gave her birth name unless she was being incognito, although she rarely gave her full given name. Names are Power.

And to have Power over the Fateweaver was a dangerous thing indeed.

On the other side, Altalita was graceful. A woman who was comfortable in her own skin, and comfortable with who and what she was. She chose to stand, walking behind him with silent steps, one of her hands tracing along his shoulders as she circled the table, pulling the door closed and latching it so they wouldn't be interrupted.

Something told her that'd probably be wise in this situation.

"Did you, now, Subaru?" Altalita asked, leaning down to meet his gaze with her almost lazily hooded one. Her bright blue eyes intense despite it. She finished her walk around the table, settling into her chair with a smooth, almost fluid motion, crossing her legs and leaning forward, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers, her elbows on the table. Her eyes not leaving his. "Tell me then. What do you expect to learn?" She asked, her voice low, almost a whisper. "What will happen to you? Who you will love next? Or perhaps a start to a new quest and purpose?"

Then she grins, bright and with playful mischief, "But I won't be telling you the next lottery numbers, that's a little unfair, don't you think?"

When her hand lightly touched his shoulder, he tensed, clearly not a person use to being touched. But he did not pull away. It was not an unpleasant touch, and he didn't want to disrupt her ritual, even this part. He knew full well the ritual did not stop and end as smoothly as one might think.

"Entirely unfair." He said, with a soft smile, before considering her question. Love...no. That was set aside in his life. His purpose, if she was as legitimate as he was beginning to suspect she was from the power ebbing and flowing around them like a thick, invisible incense, might reveal far more than he wanted.

"I have been...unhappy lately." An understatement. "What should I pursue?"

((Work + sick = tired and uninspired))

Altalita watched him, occasionally blinking, but her gaze never wavering. There's a gentle sort of intensity to her watching, despite the lazy, playful, mischievous, even sensual air the Seer no doubt gives off while she sits across from him in the dark room. His agreement with her joke earned another flash of a smile and a playful look.

"Mmmm, unhappy?" She asks, tilting her head a little as she shifts to rest her cheek against her palm, gesturing with her other hand for him to tell her more as she speaks, "Do you know the reason for this unhappiness, sweet? Why it's cropped up, to come see me?"

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Open rp post

Katniss! | other: 2ish. Hunting, anyway.

stop shooting at Gale's brother that's just rude.

but he's so shootable. :|

...ok, fair.

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Action....9....ish. For Usagi!

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Eddie Dean | AU: Harry Potter

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De | I have no idea

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Altalita Bastion, for Subaru (secondhandeye)

It's perfect!

Sweet. Was a little worried since I sometimes struggle at starting scenes from nothing.

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I am so sorry it took me so long to get back to this.