hellburner: (my problem if i have no friends)
[personal profile] hellburner
This is not funny.

[Spoken by the English-accented voice of a young woman, dressed in only the finest clothing. Her youthful face held no sign of the prominent scar she would carry later in life--in fact she seemed no older than a teenager.]

None of my clothes fit. And I mean my clothes, not this bloody embroidered tent.

Does anyone have a proper shirt and pants I can borrow?
hellburner: (and feel i want to die)
[personal profile] hellburner
[One could have heard the loud reports of cannon fire throughout Prospero in the Dark Hour, dozens upon dozens of explosions and jubilant shouting of a woman fighting Shadows.]


[But that was not the image the network was met with just after the Dark Hour ended. Rider looked like something of a mess. It almost seemed as though she collapsed, phone having fallen beside her. Dark circles were clearly present under her eyes, and there was something off about the video, as though there was static or some kind of corrupted data...or was it less the video and actually the air around her?]

[Scowling, Rider forced herself to move and push herself halfway up on her arms...damn, this really wasn't going to work. Her breath was ragged and forced, skin pale and breaking out in a cold sweat.]

Goddamn it...Shinji, where are you when I...need your useless self...?
hellburner: (smoke and drink and sway)
[personal profile] hellburner


Report to the Golden Hind within the next half-hour!

[She didn't even bother making the call private, and so you can see Rider sitting atop....a pile of pumpkins in a wheelbarrow.]


[Flying down the streets of Prospero in the direction of the docks is one pink-haired Francis Drake. And she is pushing a wheelbarrow full of pumpkins, knives, and the power of rock.]

[No, really, she crammed a radio in there with everything else.]

[And somewhere, a historian is openly sobbing.]
hellburner: (not your cutie girlfriend)
[personal profile] hellburner
[Rider was angry. Very, very angry.]

Mͣ̈́̐́̌͏̡̘̜͙̘̥͜ͅa̽̾̾ͬͮ̑͗̏͡͏̵͚͖̬͕̺̦h̸̡͓̘̖̬̘͓̻̤ͤ̃̓́̑̃͑̆͌ͅa̹͈͎̪̦̪͉͉ͨͣ͌͑̒̀͞͝ ̥̣͈͐ͭ͛̾ͭ͗̓͜A͈͖̮͇̳̬̹̼̐ͪ̌ͨ̍̄́̚͜q͆̉҉̭̜̗̮͞u͖̠̪̲̳̘̹̼ͣ͆̍ͧͨà̶̖͖̰͚͔̣̲͓̏ͫ̈͂͟!̴̧̮͉̆̆ͩ͐


[It was kind of easy to tell, as she was out in the Dark Hour summoning her Persona in eldritch tongues and letting it devastate any unfortunate Shadows crossing her path with water and flame. The dissipating corpses of the black creatures were practically a trail of death leading straight to where the pirate stood. She'd either dropped or discarded her phone at some point, the video broadcasting from an odd angle.]

Do you really think lashing out like a child will solve anything?

[She turned on her heel at the voice, tenatacled horror of a Persona evaporating into the night. That voice, that accent of their home country...it couldn't be.]

[But standing before her was a man similar in appearance to herself; flaming red hair, the same coat and shoes, and the same sharp look to his eyes. There was only one person that could have been, one individual seared and burned into the woman's memory. Yet she said nothing, facing him head on without a word.]

My dragon. England's finest privateer, throwing a tantrum because she couldn't save one child? How far will you fall before you hit the bottom? You've gone soft, turned into a lazy wretch that does nothing but play childish tricks.

[Still Rider said nothing. She watched the red-haired figure before her with a blank and unreadable stare, not countering or objecting to a word he said.]

Hm? Are you so far gone that you even acknowledge how pathetic you have become? What a sad sight indeed--perhaps the throne truly was too much responsibility for y--


[The pistol was in her hand at the speed of thought, lightning and thunder at once lashing out in a single shot. The figure before her jerked backwards from the force of the bullet that struck him in the head, body falling lifeless to the ground...then dissipating into nothing as any other Shadow did.]

You talk too much.

hellburner: (they say i'm a control freak)
[personal profile] hellburner
So that sure as hell was a trip and a half. We're all having the same dreams and screwing' about with memories now?

What an interesting development. But I gotta say, what kind of stupid name is Elizabe--

[She was never destined for the life she would lead. Born a crimson bird in a gilded cage, set upon the finest pedestal from which she was to lead. A perfect porcelain doll in pristine clothes and gems, the girl was born a symbol. All of England looked to the leader that never should have been, the illegitimate daughter of an executed wife.]

[How she ascended was irrelevant. The throne was hers all the same, and it was there from which she was meant to lead as their beloved Gloriana. But while all of England was to look to her, not all of them did so willingly. That was how her legend truly began--with blood and a shriek of agony.]

[She never knew who attacked her or what their specific quarrel with her was. It was days, possibly a week or so, until she regained consciousness. The doctor had for a time feared she never would, with how easily such a severe wound could have become infected. That would have been a death sentence, but it was to be that their queen was too resilient for that.]

[When she did finally wake, it was with a surge of absolute horror--a jagged scar ran from her forehead to her chin, marring her entire face in a way nothing could ever conceal. She couldn't be damaged. The queen was a symbol, was England herself. To be seen by her subjects with so much as a scratch was utterly unthinkable. Symbols couldn't be damaged. Ideals did not bleed. A country's strength did not scream and rage and break a mirror with her bare fist as that woman did.]

[It was that same night that he came to her, under cover of darkness and concealed by her own servants. Her dragon, rushing to her side mere hours before setting out on a journey around the earth as no other had ever done.]

['I can help you,' he'd said. Tossed clothes, boots, and holstered pistols on her bed for her to change into before opening her own wardrobe without wasting time asking for permission.]

[What was eventually lost to history was that the queen and her dragon looked similar--very similar. Knowing that, knowing that England needed an immaculate leader, he was ready to sacrifice everything.]

['I do not know how to sail,' she'd prostested desperately, faltering in a very less than regal manner.]

['My men will teach you all you need to know.' he had countered calmly. They will help you, and then you will lead them as well as I would.']

[It was already decided. No, perhaps everything in that woman's life had been decided for her until that moment. This was the last thing she would have no say in--from that night on, her life would be hers. And the price to be paid was nothing more than the discarding of an identity she held no love for.]

[The throne was just as treacherous as the seas. With a visible hardening to her scarred face, the woman told him exactly that as she threw his coat over her shoulders and secured his holsters on her waist. But he accepted the exchange, as did she. What else could they do? England needed its queen and its dragon. The servants and sailors would keep their secrets--no one would ever know that after this night, the woman leading England and the captain leading her armies had exchanged lives.]

[And over time, she did learn to lead as a captain and not a queen; the gilded cage was broken to be replaced with a gilded ship. She and her men were feared and respected, and the woman was finally free to do as she pleased. No slow and agonizing life on the throne awaited her--no, she was determined to blaze like a destructive wildfire and burn herself out.]

[Wealth, power, fame...she had been given all of it as a child, and that night she cast it all away. If she was to have those things, she would scrape and claw her way to earning every bit of it and then spend it all away like a brilliant explosion.]

[It had been a good life, the scarred pirate decided, lying in the sunlit grass of a distant utopia. The scar on her face had been worn like a badge of honor as Francis Drake...as the symbol of England's military power. That was the kind of symbol she could accept being. Not the songbird on a pedestal, not Elizabeth the porcelain doll on high.]

['What awaits at the end of it all is a glorious fall.']

[A devilish grin spread across the woman's face in that bright sunlight--a place like this didn't suit her, but it would have to do for now. For someday she would be granted the ability to return, to blaze and burn out once more in the most spectacular way she could.]

[Fading back into reality would find an utterly terrifying sight--Rider, absolutely livid as the video cuts out.]
hellburner: (pic#4024790)
[personal profile] hellburner
Mornin', Prospero. Been awful quiet lately, hasn't it? Guess that means I'll have to be extra loud to breathe some life back into this place.

I think today I might like to see how insightful you are, or if you're all the braindead idiots you act as. So I'm going to share with you the words of the second greatest poet of my time.

'Disturb us, Lord, when we are too well pleased with ourselves.
When our dreams have come true because we have dreamed too little.
When we arrived safely because we sailed too close to the shore.
Disturb us, Lord, when with the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst for the waters of life;
having fallen in love with life, we have ceased to dream of eternity.'

This would be the time when I wait for your input on these words of wisdom, and then shoot it down because your input is stupid.
hellburner: (not your cutie girlfriend)
[personal profile] hellburner
[Rider wasn't one to angst and cry over losses like some people. Oh, no. That wasn't her style.]

Prospero, I'm not a woman who likes to screw around and repeat herself. So I'll ask this once. Just once, and if I don't get a satisfactory answer I might just start wrecking shit.





[Her coping mechanism was anger and threats.]

[Some time after that call, Rider could be found on the deck of her still rather banged-up ship in the harbor--slumped in a chair over a small table she set up when it wasn't sailing. Usually she enjoyed blasting terrible music from a radio set upon it, but today the only thing on it was an alarming number of empty glass bottles.]

...fuckin' city.

[Anger, threats of violence, and alcohol were perfectly good coping mechanisms in her book, thank you very much.]
hellburner: (high achiever don't you see)
[personal profile] hellburner
$o hey guy$

i got my hand$ on this video game thing

need a little time to get a whole $hitload of food and drink$ together

but party at $hake$peare$ place on $aturday

who$ in
hellburner: (smoke and drink and sway)
[personal profile] hellburner
[If you happen to be by the harbor today, you'll see a singed and generally damaged Golden Hind limping her way back into port.]

[And if you aren't? Don't worry, because someone's recording. Slowly but surely the ship makes her way back, and a voice rings out loud and clear as she draws closer.]

Hail your conquering hero, the woman who made an otherworldly demon cry 'mercy'! Francis Drake is back, Prospero!

[Not too humble now, Rider. Once that's said and done a blur of pink in a torn and damaged red coat flings herself off the deck, leaping to the docks with a tremendous sharklike grin on her face.]

What did I miss?
hellburner: (baby; nothing comes for free)
[personal profile] hellburner
in flames of death's eternal reign we ride towards the fight )

[ooc: Responses ICly delayed for reasons of being covered in eldritch abomination.]
hellburner: ('cause it's my problem)
[personal profile] hellburner
i need $omeone who can move $hit around for me. the guy$ who delivered thi$ $aid $omething about it being a $afety hazard to move thing$ where i needed them. dumba$$es. it$ not like i wouldn't have paid them extra.

al$o where can i get $ome kind of electricity generator thing? do tho$e even exi$t?

[Those of you that might go looking for Rider will find her in new clothes on the docks next to her ship. She is also standing next to...three refrigerators.]

[Why? Go ahead and ask. I dare you.]
hellburner: (don't give a damn if you don't believe)
[personal profile] hellburner

I'm looking for a few willing and able individuals, a worthwhile crew for the greatest ship ever built. Inquire onboard the ship currently in the port.

[Those of you out and about Prospero's port may notice a new addition. One in the form of a tremendous galleon, in excellent shape despite looking like it's from circa the 1500s.]

[For those of you knowing a bit of history, you may recognize it as Francis Drake's Golden Hind.]

[Let me repeat that. The fucking Golden Hind is docked in Prospero.]

[On the deck, leaning back in a chair and enjoying the weather in sunglasses? Your friendly neighborhood dragon, of course! Arms folded behind her head, feet up on a table next to a bottle of rum and a radio blasting some suspiciously appropriate music for damn near half the city to hear.]
lordsexybritches: (Below the thunders of the upper deep)
[personal profile] lordsexybritches
[When the feed turned on, it was past the dark hour, and the video only showed Lord El-Melloi lying in bed on side, apparently sleeping. How the phone's camera had turned on at all was a mystery; it certainly wasn't him.]

[For a few moments, that's all that happened. Just Waver, sleeping.]

[Then, across the bed, something slowly rose up over his bedside. Something long, pink, and suspiciously ahoge-shaped.]

[Hovering over Waver was a certain British privateer, grinning ear-to-ear down at him.]

[An uncomfortable expression briefly passed over his face, as though he could feel her eyes on him, and then his eyes opened. He looked confused for a moment and turned over.]

[And screamed. A suspiciously high-pitched one.]

[The feed cut out.]
hellburner: (pic#2077605)
[personal profile] hellburner
[So how 'bout that event, amirite?]

Vriska, Feferi, Nathan.

Get the hell to my hotel room. Bring that Eridork kid if you want.

We're going shopping.

[Mommy loves you.]
hellburner: (that my life was just about to change)
[personal profile] hellburner
So, Prospero.

How many of you are new around here? And how many of you keep getting lost? You're in luck today, because I have put my particular skills to work for your benefit. With my help, you'll never get lost in an unfamiliar world.

[This smile is less 'friendly' and more 'up to something'. She takes a rolled up piece of paper from off-camera and unrolls it to reveal...a map.]

[But oh no, this is no ordinary map. This map of Prospero is so carefully and expertly drawn as to make the best cartographers weep at how inadequate they are. It is a work of art, everything from the streets to the buildings labeled flawlessly in clear, legible handwriting.]

[It's even signed.]

So. Shall I stop pointing out how obviously you need this so we can start discussing prices?
[identity profile] profcharisma.livejournal.com
[It is some time after midnight, and Lord El-Melloi's face is now broadcast across the city.]

I apologize if I've woken anyone, but I'm afraid that I have to make this call at such an ungodly hour.  If anyone is acquainted with Miss Francis Drake--

[The video is turned to one very asleep (or, rather, tranquilized, but it would be impossible to tell that, since he'd already taken the dart out of her shoulder) Rider who is sprawled across Waver's couch.  She is snoring, and possibly drooling on his upholstery.]

--she has apparently been imbibing too much this evening, and has broken into my house and passed out on my couch.  I would appreciate it if someone would come and pick her up, or else I'll contact the authorities and have them take her.  Either way, I don't care, I just want her out of here so that I can get some bloody sleep.
[identity profile] estantiga.livejournal.com

[It's the Dark Hour. Do you know where your Rider is?]

[Because as it happens, she is out and about fighting Shadows with no more than a pair of flintlock pistols. Which happen to be a pain to reload when your ammunition isn't magical in nature, so she might be in a little trouble. Not that she seems to mind, based on the huge grin on her face and all that laughing she's doing. Amidst the chaos of cackling and one last Visceral Maya that just won't go down, an ethereal figure
about six feet tall appeared in front of Rider. With it came a sudden rush of water, dissolving the last Shadow and clearing the street.]

I̹̟̹̟ͮ ̺̤̻̜̞̼͖ͣͮͩá̤̥̣̻̓̏̿m͔̹̟̥͍͎̟̓͂ͫ ̭͎ͥ͛̒̚tͫḫ͈̫̳̗o̼̻̭̞u̺̳̬̝̺͇̜̎͌ ̠̣̯͚ͩ͋ͯ͌ā̹̟̭̙͆̉ͯ̔̚n͓͍̗̭͔̣ͭ̽ͨd̹̦̹̦ͤ͒̄̐ ͕̪̳̹̘̝̔̾̈́͑ͧ̅̓ͅt̖̮̗̟̺h͎͖͑́ͮ̓ó͎̯͕̝̹͇́ͬͪ̄̇̚ȕ̜̩͈͙̹ͤ ̼͋̅̎̀́a̟̹͕̗ͥ̍̈́r̮͂ͯͩ̆ͪ͂t̺̝͕̱̫ͅ ̫̤͉̪̤͖͍͑̆͋I͇̞̺̭͕͈͗̿ͣ̇͋̽.̓̆ͦ̌.̜̠̺̩̃ͥ͊.̼̪͎̦̍
̠̟̪̙̤̣ͅT͆̋͆̒ͥ̏h̻̞̗̑̓̇̌ͭ̓̚a͔̗̥ͮͅt̹͉͚̠̰ ͙͔̳ͣͅͅi̯̲̔ͅs͙̬͕͋ͫ̉ͮ̄ ̜̦̟̘̼̱̟̏̃́ͮn͉̞̦͈͚͌ͨŏ̼̥̙̥̟͇͒̅ͩ̔͑̍t̠ ̜̦̾͗ͭ̄d͙͇͌̂ͩ̓̒͑͊ẻ̚a̯̦͙̼̣͔̒̄̈́d̤̣̟̙̥̦ ̙̪̪̂̈̉ͩ̑ͭ̓w̰͎͙̲̤̦h̰̠̦ͮ͒̂̈́̌͊ͬi̘̇̈c̖̤̦̣̒ͪͅh̘̳ͩ̏̇͋ͭͦ ͇͎̉͐͑c͔̣̣̯̖͔͐ͤ͊ͅā̳ͫ̌ͯͩͫn͕ ̦̟̱̯͚̭̌̂ͅẽ͎̯̺̃ͤ̾̚t̜̆̏͋̉̇̍͌e̤̲͇̅̉́ͨr̺͕ͬ͊̀n͖̤͖̻͕̓̅ͩͅă̊ͮl̼̜̯ ̳̞̤̟̠̳̒͂̾ͥͅl͉͇̞͉̺͍̗͑i͆ë͇̻̹̰͖̗̒ͪ̓̄ͦͩͅ,̥̩̹ͬ͛͂͗ͧ
̖̇̉ͅẠ̫̝͒n̙͖̤͙̟̮͂̋́̽̆ͩd̥̹̯̳͎̆̽͋ͩ̈́̾̚ ͖̪̼̦ͮͪw͓̜̙̤̗̹̐ͥͪͤḯ̼̎t̻̪̬̘̯h̬̩̠͍̰́̂̌̏́̈́ ͔̳͑ͨͮͭs͚̬͚̿̊͆ͫ̈́ͬ͐t͇r̹̦̬̺̳ͩă̞̆͛n̮̤ͩ̋ͫͬg͖͉͙̃̂̎ê̑ ̹̩̫̞ͪͦ̐̎͒̒ͫa̮̻̳e̹͈̙̻̲͋̾́ͧ̊ͅo̟ͭͮͬ̚n̜̮s̭̲͋̊ͦ͌̓ ̹̳̥̘̌̊e̥̬̒̆ͨ̃͗̄̍v̪̥̫̥̥̈͂ͭ̔̏ͤͪe͎̞̓n ̘̭͈͍̋ͨͤ̍̉d̯̘͈̞̝ͦ̓͋̎ͬͮͤe̥͈ͮ̿ạ̾̍̐ͦ͊͊̆t̓ͯh̟̰̮̺͙̓ͮ̊́ ̘͍̘̱̲̺m̳͙̗̤̪̈́̃a͂̏ͦͯy̩͇͔̜̩̪͒ͨ̉͆̉̚ ͔͚̝̟͈̟̩ͦ̄ͤ͒͂̒̚d̲̜̉̋ͯ̓̐i̻̖̫̤̭ͫ̃̋̂ͭͬ̂e̝̦̮͖̼̽ͭ͛̍̈́ͫͫ.̻͇̹͎̓ͨ̂̋̆̽̃

...You want to run that by me again? [With that, the figure vanishes and the video cuts out.]

[...And turns on just after the Dark Hour ends, voluntarily this time. Rider seems to have taken over a couch in a house someone will find familiar (hi Waver~). She's got a cigar in her mouth and is smoking like a goddamn chimney.]

That was pretty different. Never had an octopus help me in a fight before.

[identity profile] estantiga.livejournal.com

[The view on everyone's screen today would be a pair of ocean blue eyes with a scar dividing them--uncomfortably close to the screen.]

Ooooi, where are you, useless fool? And what's this thing, did you leave me with your terminal? [She pulled back enough to reveal a scarred face and pink hair, seeming as if she was examining the phone without being aware it was recording.]

This isn't where we're supposed to go after we're deleted, is it? If it is, you better be around here--my pockets are as empty as your head right now! If you still want my guns shooting straight, you had best be able to pay me well.

What kind of place is this, anyway? I didn't think the Moon Cell had anything to it but the school and the Arena. You better answer me before I get impatient, Matou Shinji!


The Velvet Key

March 2013

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