antarcticite (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
acicular) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ioduanlogs2018-10-11 08:55 pm
acicular) wrote in ioduanlogs2018-10-11 08:55 pm
[OPEN] what comes first
Characters: Antarcticite, Rutile, Padparadscha + you!!
Date: The middle of October
Location: Throughout Aifaran
Situation: Antarcticite has found a way to make themselves useful to Aifaran this month: they’ve joined the Sentry! Hilarity ensues.
Warnings/Rating: Potential body horror things in prompt 3! Gems are able to break off pieces of themselves without causing themselves any pain, but if missing limbs is a thing that might upset you, give that prompt a pass.
I. Ghost Buster? (Justice 4; OPEN)
It should really come as no surprise to Antarcticite that their tenure as a neighbourhood coordinator is short-lived. They have never been much of a team player; that’s a rather essential component of coordinating anything, isn’t it?
Yet they had performed every required task exactly to the sergeant’s specifications! They put out all the fires during the fire safety drills! They arrested and scolded all of the drunkards! Sure, no one else was able to get a word in edgewise because they were so diligent in their work, and maybe a few of the fake!drunks didn’t take kindly to getting real!lectured--but that just means they weren’t pushing themselves hard enough--right?
Wrong, apparently. Antarcticite is still standing in stunned silence, staring at the back of the departing sergeant, when a friendly, sympathetic Castian member of the Sentry approaches them.
“Don’t sweat it, kid,” he says; maybe he just has a soft-spot for the Dreamfolk, or maybe there’s something genuinely heartbreaking in Antarcticite’s look of wide-eyed, crestfallen dismay over having his new role revoked from him so soon. He tries another avenue. “You’ve got heart though. Uh, figuratively,” he adds--do these gems have organs? Time to ask the supervisor. “You should come by one of the precincts sometime, talk to a recruitment officer.”
Numbly, Antarcticite drags their eyes up to the Castian’s. It seems to take them a moment to realize that this might, in fact, kind of be a job offer. They blink owlishly. “...but I failed,” they point out in a sad, quiet little voice.
The Castian just shrugs at them, grinning. “Can’t lead ‘til you learn how to follow, kid.”
When the Sentry officer returns to his patrol, Antarcticite is still standing in the same place on the sidewalk on the same stretch of street, though now they are staring determinedly at a business card.
II. Trading Spaces, Maybe (Closed to Rutile and Padparadscha)
It was not easy for the Sentry to find a uniform quite petite enough to fit Antarcticite’s frame, but the fact that they now wear it is cause enough for them to celebrate. They don’t drift aimlessly back to the Dreaming Bridge today as they have on so many other occasions; no, aimless wandering is for juniors who haven’t found a way to make themselves meaningful to their community. And that, most assuredly, is not Antarcticite today.
“Rutile?” they ask, or, “Padparadscha?” as they poke their head into various common areas, nearly vibrating with excitement as they search for the pair of senior gems. They have so few other connections here in Aifaran, and none whose opinion they value nearly as highly.
III. Metaphysical Mishap (OPEN)
Naturally, the Dreaming would decide to yank the rug out from beneath Antarcticite’s (very impressive) heels as soon as they’ve found some form of meaningful work in the city.
They’re following up a lead on a mugging in one of Aifaran’s rougher neighbourhoods, diligently following the procedure laid out before them to canvas as many witnesses as possible, when their leg gives out on them halfway down a flight of rickety wooden stairs. They’re already tumbling straight towards the bottom before they’re even able to yelp in surprise--and the sharp contact with the steps is hard enough to leave visible fractures in the crystalline structure of their face. A few shards splinter off and scatter like glass across the ground.
They’re laying on their back at the foot of the stairs in dazed silence for a few moments until they are able to piece together what happened: their left leg seems to have melted below the knee. Not completely--it’s still there, albeit the white paint that Padparadscha had so painstakingly applied to the limb last month has melted away, and there’s a sharp, jagged break where their ankle should be.
The foot itself isn’t far away, and as Antarcticite pushes themselves up groggily into a sitting position, they don’t appear to be in any pain. Just--disoriented, and alarmed.
Date: The middle of October
Location: Throughout Aifaran
Situation: Antarcticite has found a way to make themselves useful to Aifaran this month: they’ve joined the Sentry! Hilarity ensues.
Warnings/Rating: Potential body horror things in prompt 3! Gems are able to break off pieces of themselves without causing themselves any pain, but if missing limbs is a thing that might upset you, give that prompt a pass.
I. Ghost Buster? (Justice 4; OPEN)
It should really come as no surprise to Antarcticite that their tenure as a neighbourhood coordinator is short-lived. They have never been much of a team player; that’s a rather essential component of coordinating anything, isn’t it?
Yet they had performed every required task exactly to the sergeant’s specifications! They put out all the fires during the fire safety drills! They arrested and scolded all of the drunkards! Sure, no one else was able to get a word in edgewise because they were so diligent in their work, and maybe a few of the fake!drunks didn’t take kindly to getting real!lectured--but that just means they weren’t pushing themselves hard enough--right?
Wrong, apparently. Antarcticite is still standing in stunned silence, staring at the back of the departing sergeant, when a friendly, sympathetic Castian member of the Sentry approaches them.
“Don’t sweat it, kid,” he says; maybe he just has a soft-spot for the Dreamfolk, or maybe there’s something genuinely heartbreaking in Antarcticite’s look of wide-eyed, crestfallen dismay over having his new role revoked from him so soon. He tries another avenue. “You’ve got heart though. Uh, figuratively,” he adds--do these gems have organs? Time to ask the supervisor. “You should come by one of the precincts sometime, talk to a recruitment officer.”
Numbly, Antarcticite drags their eyes up to the Castian’s. It seems to take them a moment to realize that this might, in fact, kind of be a job offer. They blink owlishly. “...but I failed,” they point out in a sad, quiet little voice.
The Castian just shrugs at them, grinning. “Can’t lead ‘til you learn how to follow, kid.”
When the Sentry officer returns to his patrol, Antarcticite is still standing in the same place on the sidewalk on the same stretch of street, though now they are staring determinedly at a business card.
II. Trading Spaces, Maybe (Closed to Rutile and Padparadscha)
It was not easy for the Sentry to find a uniform quite petite enough to fit Antarcticite’s frame, but the fact that they now wear it is cause enough for them to celebrate. They don’t drift aimlessly back to the Dreaming Bridge today as they have on so many other occasions; no, aimless wandering is for juniors who haven’t found a way to make themselves meaningful to their community. And that, most assuredly, is not Antarcticite today.
“Rutile?” they ask, or, “Padparadscha?” as they poke their head into various common areas, nearly vibrating with excitement as they search for the pair of senior gems. They have so few other connections here in Aifaran, and none whose opinion they value nearly as highly.
III. Metaphysical Mishap (OPEN)
Naturally, the Dreaming would decide to yank the rug out from beneath Antarcticite’s (very impressive) heels as soon as they’ve found some form of meaningful work in the city.
They’re following up a lead on a mugging in one of Aifaran’s rougher neighbourhoods, diligently following the procedure laid out before them to canvas as many witnesses as possible, when their leg gives out on them halfway down a flight of rickety wooden stairs. They’re already tumbling straight towards the bottom before they’re even able to yelp in surprise--and the sharp contact with the steps is hard enough to leave visible fractures in the crystalline structure of their face. A few shards splinter off and scatter like glass across the ground.
They’re laying on their back at the foot of the stairs in dazed silence for a few moments until they are able to piece together what happened: their left leg seems to have melted below the knee. Not completely--it’s still there, albeit the white paint that Padparadscha had so painstakingly applied to the limb last month has melted away, and there’s a sharp, jagged break where their ankle should be.
The foot itself isn’t far away, and as Antarcticite pushes themselves up groggily into a sitting position, they don’t appear to be in any pain. Just--disoriented, and alarmed.
I
But after the officer's gone, and the person just keeps kind of standing there, Zephyr jams his hands casually in his pockets and ambles over. Just to see. Just in case everything's not actually okay. "Hey, you doing all right there?"
no subject
They look up and then at Zephyr, their thoughts still miles away, which likely explains the vacant expression that lingers for a moment. Then they frown; they have never been one for telling lies, but they've also never been in a position like this before. Are they all right?
"I--" they begin, their jaw working as they try to make sense of their feelings. They look back down to the business card. "...I don't know. I've never been rewarded for failure before."
no subject
He's not gonna push, though, it's really none of his business. He leans back once he's gotten some look at the card, swaying casually as he shifts his weight. It's the easy un-balancing of a man who knows exactly how to be balanced at a moment's notice.