Knife in the Back//The Wren//Open for apps! PM to Tundra

[.Saffron.]

Question. I'm a little confused as to how we sign up. Do we send our forms to Tundra, or post them here? Thanks!

[Tundra]

Question. I'm a little confused as to how we sign up. Do we send our forms to Tundra, or post them here? Thanks!

Forms are to be sent to me for review, and if they pass I will forward them to the proper people and add you to the list. You need to fill out a complete form, I'll slim it down for the post itself. Otherwise those are the only guidelines.

[.Saffron.]

Question. I'm a little confused as to how we sign up. Do we send our forms to Tundra, or post them here? Thanks!

Forms are to be sent to me for review, and if they pass I will forward them to the proper people and add you to the list. You need to fill out a complete form, I'll slim it down for the post itself. Otherwise those are the only guidelines.

Ah, Okay, thanks!

[Tundra]

bumps

[Verdana]

//Shay//

Kuar was the first to arrive. He was far too chipper for Shay's liking. When he'd made his reappearance, she'd felt young again. Now, with Vlad's appearance, she felt very old instead. With two old lovers (and deep ones, too; not casual one-week flings) back in her life at the same time, she was in an uncomfortable, undesirable position. She hoped that they'd behave themselves long enough for her to get everyone situated.

She knew that it was probably a hope in vain.

She smiled back at Kuar, but absently.
Never lost, dear. Deviated from the original track, perhaps, but never lost, she answered.

She didn't have time to say any more, be any more warm, or cold, or whatever else may have been necessary. The rest of the Wren was arriving. Surreal was not particularly impressed.
Yes, dear. It is. Don't worry; Ty has blueprints drawn up already. HQ will be built within the week. We'll just have to tough it out until then.
Although Shay sounded confident, she was less than convinced by herself. The knife alone knew where they were going to get the money, not to mention the labour necessary to build HQ. Usually, it would already have been built when they arrived. They hadn't had time that time. Those still alive were lucky to be so.

Banshee and the prisoner were in close proximity. They were approaching, but subtly. Shay was grateful for it. Kuar was attracting... Looks. Doubtless Cass was close too. He was the Wren's best-camouflaged assassin.

And then there was Vlad, looking awkward. 'As well he should,' thought Shay irritably. She had never truly forgiven him. For anything. She knew that that part of her life was about to resurface, with plenty of responsibilities and guilt carried along with it. She was not looking forward to this. Furthermore, she was still mulling over the speech he had given on the bus (which she had not deigned to reply to at the time). He was sorry. So was she. She was aware that she was being unnecessarily difficult. She felt it justified, though. She had lived, and she deserved to be a cranky old woman occasionally. Besides, the knife knew that she'd done enough for Vlad in her time. However, she thought that it was time for a compromise. With surprising innocence, she slipped her hand into Vlad's for a moment.
I'm sorry, too, she whispered, and the withdrew.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

With most of the remaining assassins gathered (with a gaping absence gleaming conspicuously between them), Shaygrin smiled, turned to the double doors with the intention of opening them. She opened her mouth for a morale-boosting speech. Fortunately, she never got to make it. The door swung open apparently of its own accord. This, however, was an illusion. A wizened, walnut-skinned old man with more gold teeth than real ones and a cantankerous expression stepped up to the group.

He did not smile. If anything, his scowl deepened as he looked the group up and down. Then he began to mutter. This muttering would become a perpetual background noise to the Wren's new life.
Onnosel bliksem, he grunted expansively.
Hoekom's hierrie domgatte op my stoep? Daarie grootkoppe by die Regering dink ou Morrie kannie Poskantoor werk nie. Hjulle bring hierrie sneeuwit tannies'n ooms om hierrie kantoor te werk. Hulle's dik. Dik soos kak. Ses maande. Hjulle sal weg in ses maande wies.

Even Shaygrin was taken aback. She had an astonishing aptitude for languages, but what the little gnome of a man had said had been so bastardised that it no longer resembled Afrikaans. What she had picked up, though, was not promising. She was a professional, however, and didn't let her astonishment show. She smiled.
Good afternoon, sir. My name is-
Onnosel bliksem, the man muttered again, turned, and walked back into the Post Office.

Meekly, Shay beckoned for the others to follow, and the tour (requiring more guesswork from the participants than would have been necessary even had they been alone) began.

//Bree//

Bree did not like being touched. She didn't like hugs. She preferred not to shake hands. Having her arm grabbed by a madman was not high on her list of priorities. Especially when it was unexpected, not to mention painfully strong.
She did not pull away, though. Bree knew fear when she saw it. She also knew that fear was usually in response to something, and that something was often not nice. Especially when it had footsteps.

In light of the situation, Bree was quite happy to run. As least Malberry was human.

More or less.

Bree didn't like to speak when running from danger. It seemed a waste. However, she almost broke her rule in surprise. Hospital? What hospital? She'd have to lie constructively, or tell the truth and admit that she had no idea about hospitals and wasn't going near one on pain of death. She was glad that she had not broken her rule in a moment, though. While Malberry ran face-first into a wall, Bree stopped in time. She felt smug about this. She felt as if she'd won something. The emotion quickly faded. The steps were drawing nearer with the slow inevitability of a bulldozer. And, even better, it seemed that the first pursuer had friends.

Bree did not like his suggestion, but she grabbed his arm nonetheless. She didn't have any better ideas.

I'm right beside you, she said, her voice tense but not panicked. Bree did not panic. It was counterproductive.

Without waiting for Malberry to give the word, she began to run.

She wished that she had a viable weapon. All she had was Malberry, and while she could make that work, he was dreadfully cumbersome.

[Sorry everyone. I really have no excuse. Holidays now, though, so lotsa posting time!]

[Verdana]

I repeat: Calling all Wren members. Who all's still hanging around HQ?

[rheia]

Please do not gravedig old topics as this is considered spam.