Week one

[letsplayamod]

You've all met Athena, and she's made her point quite clear. She's fully committed to making this world better, and you're the ones who agreed to lend a hand. Something she's obviously quite thankful for.

It's really not so bad around here. Despite the sky, and the state of the land, things are fairly calm. You've got plenty of time to get used to it, and each other. Maybe this'll be easier than it seems.

Sunday | Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday | Friday

Profiles | Locations | Regains | IC Rules

Comments

[fillets]

( Note that there are oblique vore references in the kitchen prompt and any resultant threads there will probably continue the trend! )




[ Ah, this really is no good. No good at all.

Well, that's not strictly accurate. What she just drank is more effective at curbing a physical need than anything else in this ugly little room, but it does nothing to satisfy her. It tastes of next to nothing, it's weak, and it's cold. If Riful's being honest, she feels more than a little angry that she tried at all, as though she's the one who ought to be hiding herself away from these dullards. Not showing her full hand is one thing, concealing her nature like an ugly secret quite another. Still, it does seem that they'll all be here and coexisting for the foreseeable future, so until she can—

Oh. What is that?

She feels another presence, but it's not in any way she's accustomed to. There's no flare of yoki on the edges of her consciousness. While she may or may not catch the delicious scent of incoming prey, depending on the tagger-in's bodily constitution, that sense only comes later, a rumble of thunder after the lightning of initial awareness. All of it is unfamiliar and wrong, and yet—someone is coming. The sheer surprise of it all makes her response even more instantaneous than it already would have been, and by the time the interloper is close enough to see anything...

Well, it's just some kid standing in the kitchen, staring into the depths of the open fridge! There's absolutely nothing untoward to be perceived unless you're exceptionally sensitive to the scent of human blood—like, vampire-level sensitive. ]

Oh, [ y/n, this is actually a fandom imagine now, ] good evening! You couldn't sleep either, then...

[ Hold on, did she actually look at you before saying your name?

During Friday proper, rather than the ass-end of Thursday evening/Friday morning, she spends time on the training grounds. There's a lot of watching other people, should they show up to spar someone else or do the obstacle course, and if she's really impressed (not super likely, but we've got some people here who are jacked as fuck and ready to fight!) she might give a little applause or pipe in with some commentary. When she's alone, however, she picks up a training sword slightly taller than she is and starts practicing bladework... or going through the motions, as it were, because after a minute or two of slight awkwardness she's fully locked in and moving like an old pro, almost thoughtlessly. None of the awkwardness has anything to do with the sword itself! She might as well have grabbed a wiffle bat for all the visible effort it takes to lift.

Once again, she feels someone coming, but this time Riful doesn't put anything away. What does she have to hide? Instead, she continues for a minute or so, then shifts into an ox guard, which is mildly hilarious if you're not also under five feet tall, and faces the newcomer. ]

... Well, now. [ She looks (probably up!) at her company with mild interest. ] What sort of practice did you come here for, I wonder?

[ if you are one of the noncombatants this may be a bit sarcastic........ ]

kitchen

[atu709]

[ hm. shades of rapunzel in that tone. she may count rapunzel as her ally, but she knows better than most what it means to be her enemy. ]

Things may be settling here, but I am still uneasy.

[fillets]

[ she will truly be proven so correct in this mental association less than two days later, and we love that for her! ]

That really is the only sensible response. To be trapped in one place with so many unique personalities... it's a fascinating, but volatile, situation.