𝟸𝟶𝟾𝟸 𝚟𝟸 (open)

[zara3447]

⇢ 𝒂𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆
- 𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆 -
rebellion • recruit • 16yrs • apnea, perception distortion • 5'0 • cis female • aro-ace
location; broom cupboard • mentions; n/a • tags; edie
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A sulky silence answered the advisor's knock, the complete absence of a reply somehow conveying heavy discontent. A moment later, the door to Avie's sanctuary was flung open, and the girl was left blinking against the glaring hallways lights. She wore an expression of weary annoyance as she extracted herself out of the dusty cupboard. It brightened involuntarily for a heartbeat at the sight of Edie, before settling into a well-practiced mask of indifference.

This new base certainly didn't lack crawlspaces, but Avie much preferred the old base. There was just so much dust, too many random boxes, and rebels wandering around with a vaguely lost, heart-sick air about them. From the look on Edie's face, the advisor agreed with her. She was halfway tempted to crawl back into her little hiding hole, and maybe invite Edie in as well. Perhaps. If she promised not to yell at her for the stolen jacket she'd stashed in the back.

No, Edie probably would get her in trouble. It was a jacket she'd quite liked, if Avie recalled correctly. Heaving an airless sigh, the tiny recruit swung the cupboard door shut, hopefully in time to conceal the stolen garment from Edie's sharp eyes.

Side-eyeing her, Avie sidled up closer, and proceeded to shake her shoulder-length black hair free of the sizable collection of dust bunnies she'd accumulated. Delicately, she reached up and brushed a stray cobweb off of Edie's shoulder, gray eyes rounded in innocence. Sneezed too, for good measure.

And then she ruined the act by opening her mouth. "What lunch? Nobody's cooking. They're all too busy moping to unpack the pots. We've had sandwiches for a week straight."

⇢ 𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒑𝒆𝒓
- 𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒂 -
rebellion • medic • 22yrs • hypnotic voice, wind manipulation • 5'7 • cis female • heteroflexible
location; dorm • mentions; kai • tags; sie
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Cherry candy rattling against the back of her teeth, Isia stretched out atop her new bunk. Having shoved her meagre pile of spare clothes into her assigned locker within the first five seconds, she simply lay there and listened to Sie's playful rant, amusement tugging up the corners of her mouth. "Can't relate. Maybe you should sneak up there tonight and roll him off. Then you can plead concern for his inability to stay put, and claim top bunk for yourself." Flashing her friend a conspiring grin, she rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows as she peered down. "I'll help. Might take two to move that massive lump."

Crunching the hard candy, she let herself go boneless, slumping face-first into the mattress. Her groan was muffled by the fabric as her aching back muscles unclenched for the first time in what felt like eons. "Honor, integrity, top bunk, who cares what the motivation was? We're all here now. And I, for one, am sorely regretting it. Quite literally." She shuffled forward so her head hung off the foot of the bunk, giving the stacked boxes visible in the hall through the open door a dirty glare. "I never would have joined this stupid rebellion if I'd known that I'd be just in time for moving day. Week. Year. Century. Who knew medical equipment could weight so much?"

Her emphatic head shaking sent her heavy braid swinging back and forth in the air, trailing off the bunk like Rapunzel's in the fairy tale tower. Catching Sie's eye, she gave a dramatic swoon, hand to her forehead and tone pleading. "Could I bribe you into lending me your services as a masseuse? You give the very best massages. And I'll return the favor, of course."

[Vivika]

xxxxx✦ ── 𝑊𝑅𝐸𝑁 𝐻𝑈𝑁𝑇𝐸𝑅

xxxxxxxxrole. taskforce 117 sniper / powers. electrokinesis, truth detection
xxxxxxlocation. gym, taskforce hq / tagged. taskforce / mentioned. david, elora, graham

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Details. It was always the subtle nuances, the shades of words left unsaid, the lines in-between that made a difference. A lesson she had never forgotten. Not now, not ever. The gym had been transformed. Various elements scattered across hinted at a potential training exercise, a simplified mirror image of the Chicago streets. Ramps led up and down small-scaled buildings, assorted lamp-posts stood dispersed along the room, along with blocks of wooden walls… portrayed as misshapen cars in this city setting. Decent cover. She’d taken a position close to the edge of the gathered group, near the back. A habit, perhaps.

Her gaze settled on David, lingering on his limp for a brief moment, as he introduced a string of instructions, offering a series of hints as to how to neutralize their targets. Their moves had to be unpredictable, creative ─ coordinated. Straightforward and simple. Or so it seemed. It was dangerous to underestimate these bots, considering who was in-control of them. She appraised the bots from head-to-toe, sharp eyes drifting slowly, quietly assessing her options.

The hum of electricity emanating from the bots was unmistakable, rousing that dormant crackle, that spark, within. Pulling the electricity, draining the bots of all life, was an option, but not one she needed to consider quite yet. Easy. She readjusted the rifle slung over her shoulder, willing the slow buzz through her veins to a simmer. Settle.

Battle bots. Built like their captain, so holding a capacity for speed, intelligence and agility. They were likely engineered to move and dodge, perhaps holding more resistance to gunfire, but there was always a trade off. Speed for durability. Agility for shielding. Somewhere in-between was weakness. The joints, perhaps. Less bulk there.

Red lights flickered on as the bots began to move forward. A quick, sweeping glance towards the group of gathered taskforce enforcers to find her targets. A certain pink-haired friend, and a certain sniper. Butterflies swirled into a vortex, zipping towards the bots to meet them. Her lips creased into a faint smile. Not what she expected, but a needed distraction. “I suggest pairing off or splitting into loose groups. It’d be easier to coordinate attacks.” Soft, measured words. She was no leader, far from it, perhaps just a verbal affirmation of a logical path to follow. A single nod, and she was off, footsteps silent as she wove through the obstacles strewn around.

Darting up one of the ramps of a building, she ducked her head below, firing off a quick text to Graham: “Stand-by for a potential cross-shot. Ensure your position is secure.” Phone pocketed, she slid the rifle off her shoulder, soaking in her surroundings. Her position provided a decent vantage point, enough to provide a general outlook of the field, closer to the outskirts of the gym. A flash of pink from one of the buildings caught her eye. Elora. She tracked the woman up to the building, before turning back to the field. Her fingers rested lightly along the trigger. Game time.

xxxxx» ── 𝐻𝑈𝐺𝑂 𝐵𝑅𝐼𝐷𝐺𝐸𝑆

xxxxxxxxrole. rebel gatherer / powers. negation (activated/deactivated)
xxxxxxlocation. kitchen > officers' dorm, rebel base / tagged. bree / mentioned. willow

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“...I’ve got it, Willow. Here, just a second—” Hugo set the freshly-cleaned plates down atop the counters in stacks of ten, fingers working quickly to tease out the utensils into their positions, separating them by forks, knives and spoons. Steam wafted, twirling, from pots of gold pasta and lightly-toasted garlic bread, all set out for the masses. The sauce would be making its way out soon… maybe it was already. As for the salad— another scuffle of shoes from the kitchen hastened his progress. He wiped the counter down with a kitchen towel, quickly drying his hands on the cloth as he crossed into the kitchen.

A promptly-timed kick to a box marked his entrance. His brows lifted at the indicated box, then to the young woman, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders in waves. “The box offend you already?” A small, teasing smile tugged at his lips as he bent down, flicking open the flaps of the offending box.

Covers, sheets, pillowcases… likely due for the dorms. All ill-suited for the kitchen, certainly. Another box sat nearby, stuffed to the brim with similar apparel on the verge of bursting open. With all the boxes moving around, it was hardly a surprise to find a misplaced one. “I’ll take this down to the dorms, then. Maybe they need more sheets there…” He tested its weight, before slowly hauling it up. “I’ll be back for the other one — promise. See if you can set that salad on the counters, before the troops arrive?” He offered a parting nod, maneuvering his way around the other boxes to head out.

Out of the mess hall and down the hallways, turning right at the corner. New base, a fresh start. Filled with tentative promises, like the dust that had just begun to lift from the base’s walls… they were picking up from where they left off. Slowly, but steadily. Surely. He paused just outside the door of the officers’ dorm. The lights were on, shadows flickering underneath. One box here, and the other due for the main dorms? It made sense. Shifting the weight of his box, he lifted a hand, lightly rapping at the door, before slipping inside.

xxxxx⊰ ── 𝐴𝑈𝐷𝑅𝐴 𝐻𝐴𝑅𝑇XX

xxxxxxxxrole. inhuman outlier (rebel-allied) / powers. ability detection (off)
xxxxxxlocation. home, rosecreek avenue / tagged. n/a / mentioned. misha <3, neighbours

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“...flute. Violin. Cello.” Audra threaded her fingers through her hair, twisting it into a makeshift bun as she eyed the laptop perched on top of the table. “Piano.” The soft, rhythmic melody continued to play, weaving a song of low and high notes. A slight frown pinched her brows. “...no?” The fourth instrument thrown at her, and she couldn’t figure it out. Already? It was the piano. Had to be. Unless the program had gone haywire… but one she created?

She tapped a foot on the kitchen floor, glancing to the window. A car screeched past, a red blur as it shredded through puddles, tearing down the road. Right on cue. She shook her head. Neighbours. No doubt trying to beat the rush hour for lunch. Always at 11:30 on the dime. Always missing the stop sign.

As the music soared to its height, she skimmed the already-set table complete with plates stacked high with waffles. Waffles imbued with blueberries — light, fluffy and crispy. Exactly as a certain someone liked them. A warlock, perhaps. A slow smile played on her lips as she shifted the powdered sugar from the edge of the table, before proceeding to rearrange the chaos streaked across into something close to presentable. Powdered sugar, syrup, additional fresh berries…

And the whipped cream. Still in the fridge.
She made her way across the kitchen, tugging the fridge doors open. To the side, where all the milk was—

Ah. She snapped her fingers, turning on her heel. “Keyboard.” The laptop’s screen flashed green, before promptly switching over to yet another randomly-selected instrument from its database. Shaking her head, she slid the whipped cream onto the table, and pulled the laptop towards her. Of course. The synthesizer was unmistakable in the background.

Gliding her fingers across the keys, she pulled up another tab. The workings of an email.

[Not here]

Ｊｅｓｓｉｃａ
|Tired & Bored|TF Second|Shiftier & Shadows|Eagle||Taskforce|
Shane
|"Ow! Butterfly"|Sniper|Body Manipulation & Shadow Solidification||Taskforce|

The Twins stood beside each other with Jessica leaning her head gently against the dirty blonde's arm. Her headaches seemed to be getting worse but no amount of medication or sleep to prevent or make it completely disappear. Not that sleep was going to help with the nightmares that plagued her mind. Visions so vivid that never happened but the threat very much alive at the time.

Shane had been listening intently, eager to practice some of his fighting moves. Though he was unsure of his sister, despite her never telling her. He gave her the space she wanted and tried to let her come to him with her problems, instead of constantly pushing the idea of opening up. When the others started moving to get into their positions, he gently moved his arm, as to notion to Jessica they had a task to complete. She stood up straight with a bored expression as she nonchalantly looked from the bots to David.

Her eyes started to change over to a wolfs, as did Shane's right eye when he pulled forward the sniper rifle that sat on his back. The pair had separated from the rest of the group as they snaked through some destroyed vehicles and into a building, clearing it efficiently. The sniper had scanned the roof before picking a good spot. Jess had sat on a corner, looking down at some of the bots. Her eyes were lit up like Christmas and that familiar itch to fight was coming back to her. Letting out a loud sigh, she fell from the building, enjoying the moment of feeling weightless before shifting into an eagle and making landing on a nearby lamp post.

Let the game of predator and prey begin.