Roleplaying

Don't let her? Since when was she a babysitter? Looking after Celeste was at least preferable over watching the new ager. The healer seemed less likely to kill her while she slept. Key word, seemed. It was hard to be certain about anyone or anything these days. She had offended her with her comments about how it was best the ghoul be killed.

Having absolutely no possible way of knowing where Celeste stayed or which direction to head in, she turned to the healer. "Well? Where are we going?" If Lorin lead them they would be walking in circles and running into dead ends for quite some time.

Celeste sniffed and blinked roughly before swiping quickly at her eyes. Tiredness was getting to her – she couldn't even remember the last time she'd slept, and now it was exposing her unexplainable emotional reactions. It would have been embarrassing on another day with another person, but her day had been too long for it to matter.

She pointed vaguely in a direction, catching the eyes of the ghoul-human and waving her to follow. Navigation was no problem for her. The camp, despite it's slow though constant expanding nature, had been memorized by her long ago, and she was sure that in a pinch it was possible to travel through it with only her ears and sense of touch leading her onward.  The healer weaved around people and past shacks, through small, shabby archways and over unsteady bridges, all the while glancing back to make sure she was being followed.

As they moved through a small tunnel made by overarching roofs that overlapped one another, lit by the glowing lamplight within the houses lining the path, Celeste found herself moved to speak. Her hands unthinkingly began to move, though she caught herself after the first few words and remembered she wasn't with either translator or someone learned in signing. Still moving her hands, however, she began to speak.

“I'm glad you're staying the night – I don't suppose you look to learn any healing methods?”

Towards the end her melodious voice began to flicker and splinter like a painting of ages encountering a brush with craquelure, adding an extra quality that, though not totally undesirable, certainly changed the texture of her voice. She coughed softly and worked to clear her throat, rubbing it gently with careful fingers.

"You don't look like you're in any condition to teach right now." The healer appeared to be too exhausted  and injured to do much of anything and it was probably best that she rested. After all who was expected to heal a healer? Besides how accurate would such information be coming from such a weary mind?

Lorin didn't observe her hand signals all that carefully. The only word she could remember was night and even then that was fleeting from her memory. Even if she bothered to attempt to learn her elaborate hand flailing language, it would take her years just to become coherent enough for basic conversation. Probably best to give up now, after all it wasn't like Celeste couldn't speak.

While they were moving she took note of any landmarks to strengthen her amorphous mental map. It was important to eventually learn the camp layout. To her more so than learning an unspoken way of communication. Of course she probably wouldn't remember many of these landmarks. It had been a long day of scavenging and dragging off thieving children and she wasn't in the best condition for learning.

Celeste shrugged with hands and shoulders, taking her time to think over an answer. Her eyes trailed the path slowly, and her mind wandered to far away, silent places that she glassed over carelessly. Footsteps were steady, but eyes skittered and tripped over a familiar sight – her cabin.

“Oh, we're here,” she said in a dopey, sleepy way, waving Lorin on.

There was a lone electric light blooming the window curtain into life and throwing a small pool of light onto the ground outside the shanty door. The healer ambled up and pushed the door in, patting around for the light switch on the wall. When her fingers found it she flicked it on and, with a long sigh, moved into the room and went for the counters, bumping awkwardly into a bookcase, to push things back into their spots and sweep leftover ingredients into their appropriate jars and bottles.

Was the healer sure they were in the right place? Lorin rather not end the day by trespassing. She tread quietly into the building. After scanning the room for a few moments she was sure the healer wasn't mistaken. There was leftover ingredients lying around, so unless they just so happened to break into another healer's home this was the right place.

After she was certain there was no one else present she allowed her footsteps to become heavier. When the light was turned on she winced, her eyes not yet accustomed to the change in brightness or electrical lights in general.

She looked around not expecting to recognize any of these ingredients. There was one word she did understand, Chloroform. What kind of healer just has that lying around? Not quite trusting her reading skills she picked up the bottle. She had been wrong it was Chlorophyll, whatever that was. Deciding she was done trying to read labels she set the bottle down.

Celeste turned, placing a ceramic cup down at the table in the center of the room and sweeping the restraints away to hang from their rusting metal hoops. She pushed it towards Lorin and moved away slowly to part and pass through the beaded curtain on the far side of the room, letting it fall back into place behind her. A moment later she stuck her head through and smiled at her guest, blinking wearily to try and chase tiredness away.

“The books – they're all my notes if you want something to read, I'm setting your bedding up,” she said softly. “The drink might be too hot, please be careful.”

Then the healer ducked away.

What kind of healer just had restraints lying around in their room? Last time she checked that wasn't a thing people just had lying around. Celeste seemed rather odd but she dare not voice her opinion. She had already offended her once today with her comments on the new ager. The healer had also brought her into her home and gave her... whatever drink this was. Lorin sniffed it and poked the cup, whatever the liquid was it was too hot at the moment.

Who had time for reading? Probably a healer who seemed like she never made it outside the fences. She didn't bother to look at her books, instead examining the room to occupy herself. It was certainly better than the crowded shanty she was used to. At that place all you had to do to bump into someone else is roll over.

Eol was standing dutifully at his post by the jail-infirmary doors, head visible through the windows. He threw it open for them and held it until they had passed through, standing to the side with a solemn expression. Jett nodded to him and led the way back down the hall to the celled room and watched Greg carefully plop the ghoul on his cot, placing him on his back in what he hoped was a comfortable position.

“Anything you need, damsel?” he asked, moving to unhook the harness from him.

His hands worked quickly and barely touched the patient, making sure to slip off the handcuffs last. The straps were pulled away, and, after plumping the cot pillow, Greg moved to exit the cell. Jett pulled the door back for him, but the mutt paused, turning back to look at their patient.

Verit winced as he was set down, only now really feeling the bruise on his back that he had received earlier in the stampede. Since when did things evolve battering-ram calibre knees?

Making a couple faces as his harnesses were removed, Verit could feel the sensation return to the the areas underneath the straps. He was still happy as heck that the restrains were coming off, though, despite it coming as a detailed rediscovery of all of his bruises. Hell, he was hurting all over.

"Sore," he groaned. Verit wasn't comfortable on the cot- his injuries only adding to the issue-, but he sure didn't have the energy to move. He let his head tip back, closing his eyes. He grimaced, baring his teeth lightly but at nobody in particular, only as a way to brace against his body's soreness.

Jett and Greg looked at each other, engaging in a war of expressions. Greg had tipped a corner of his lips into a frown, and his eyes begged quietly. Jett had a hard look set in place, mouth a straight, unbending line and his eyes flat. They stared, stared, and stared some more until the latter broke eye contact and glanced over at their celled victim.

“Need anything?” he asked.

He'd taken care of patients before, but he'd never found himself drained so quickly. There had been many interesting cases with Celeste – he'd even helped her deliver a set of Fenian nonuplets over a labor time of thirty-odd hours, but somehow that didn't quite compare to dealing with her newest project. Maybe it was the emotional drain involved, or maybe it was just the patient himself, but either way he was eager to see the ghoul's health return.

Out, Verit thought dully. He probably sustained more injuries in this hell hole of a community space in the span of a couple hours than he ever had within a month on the streets. This entire place was bad for his health.

Verit opened his eyes, stared out the skylight in his ceiling for a moment before turning his gaze to the human and the ghoul-alien mutt. The fabric on the cot beneath him was starting to stick in a not-so-pleasant way. Some parts were becoming soaked through with red.

Verit looked appraisingly to a quickly-spreading bloodstain by his torso. "Maybe a bucket. I'll bleed myself and sell the produce to some hippy vegan aliens."

“Oh, no, that's an awful idea,” Greg said in a small panic. “Jett'll definitely force you to give at least fifty percent over to pay for housing and food, he's a total shark.”

Jett sighed and moved away to the cabinet on the other side of the room. As he skirted around a cot he put his hand in the air, and in a succinct movement Greg hurled the harness at him. He caught it without turning, looking, or even fumbling, and inwardly he was slightly proud of that. The cupboard door was opened with a low creak, and the bundle of straps and buckles was pushed back into a corner. A cold metal box was pulled down and placed on the small counter below the cabinet, and, with nimble fingers, Jett popped it open to rummage through the collection of wraps and dressings inside.

“Which of your nurses do you want to have bandage you up?” Greg asked the ghoul in a cute voice, winking and popping his foot into the air behind him, arms against his side and palms facing the ground as if he was posing for a kiss on the cheek.

Verit shirked back with a frown. He had subconsciously begun to sit up, but his strength suddenly left him (again) and he fell back onto the cot, the springs in the mattress squeaking. Not having the energy to move, Verit went to eyeing the thing the human was digging through. Whatever that was, it didn't look like a bucket. Didn't smell terribly edible either.

Verit's eyes turned back to the ghoul-alien mutt. His frown deepened. Something to do with banding? Who was a nurse?

"... Not you?" Verit said hoarsely, midly confused. He had no idea what the ghoul-alien mutt was trying to do. Fall over, maybe.

Greg pouted and huffed sadly, putting on a show of mock hurt. “I see. You like the quiet type, it's okay, I can't please everyone. Jett! Bandage duties are all yours.”

Jett's eyes were in mid-rolling action before he stopped them, grabbed a roll of gauze, tape, and cloth, and turned back around to stare at his friend. There were a few seconds where it looked like he might resist and push off the job, but that drive of determination bit back at him, and he moved forward towards the cell. Greg stepped aside and gave him a sunny smile that he flicked at before going over to the cot. A knife popped out of Jett's back pocket, and he began cutting up the gauze into strips.

“Let's get you sitting.”

Verit stared at the mutt quizzically before deciding to just drop the topic. Looking at the human wasn't the better bet, either, since the both of them were acting equally unfathomably. Verit reminded himself not to bother rationalizing anything that went on.

... Oh come on. So now he was graced with the human's presence. Verit really should have killed it the first time. Verit's body picked the absolute best time to be out of order. It would have been so easy. So easy.

Verit stared at the human's working hands. The thing that was being shred smelled funny. Verit didn't like the look of the strips or the fact that he wasn't going to be moving very fast anytime soon. He stared at the human suspiciously, slowly getting up.

Earth is a dangerous place, whether in the hybrid-infested countryside or crumbling, dark cities, but no place is more dangerous or rough than New Chicago. Whether out on the streets or high in the penthouses, no one's truly safe.

The world has become a new place. Some people call it impossible, but others just call it apocalyptic. There's barely a government, and what's left of it is corrupt and dangerous - the people live in factions, gangs, or try to survive on their own, and the only peace between them are through the pacts that have been made. The rich thrive and keep themselves safe, but anyone unfortunate enough to be less than that spends every day hoping to stay alive.

Species:
Ghouls - they're intelligent beings, humanoid in appearance. Their skin rots, and their lifespan is determined by how long their meat stays on their bones.

Zombies - they're dumb and benign unless angered or bothered. They're brainless, so essentially they don't do anything except wander around, bump into things, and (on the occasion) turn into a terrifying killing and flesh-eating monster. These aren't characters, but they can be used by any writer as a tool, the way one would write about a pet or object a character interacts with. If you plan on using a zombie, PM me to clarify what you want to use one for.

Humans - just like us, but now they share their planet with many other species. Many feel cheated out of their home, and most scramble to keep their kind from dying out.

Aliens - there are many, many kinds, and over the years they've adapted to the newness of the world. From tall to small, these creatures come in all shapes, sizes, and origins. (PM me to clarify what kind of alien you would like to be - it has to be your own creation or one that someone else in the roleplay has made up).

Mutts - an alien-human, alien-alien, ghoul-alien offspring.

Hybrids - always different, always weird, hybrids are animal-human-zombie creatures. Whether four legs or two, each species of hybrids are as oddly animal as they are humanoid. Some can talk, most can't, but all have a highly feral nature and are willing to 'defend' themselves quickly through force.

Additional - any species you think should be on this list that isn't. PM me if you have any ideas.

None yet.

THE ROLEPLAY SLOGAN: Falcon hug that piece of beef jerkwad

No godmoding, guys - be cool

Come up with your own, unique charater, but make their personality realistic. No one likes a Mary Sue or an impossible character.

You only get to kill another character, or injure, if you have the writer's permission.

Don't let things that happen in character affect or influence how you treat someone out of character, and please don't use your character as a way to get at another roleplayer. Don't be cheap.

If you want to write a huge post, go for it! Write a huge one! But, before you do so, write up a message in the OOC chat to let everyone else know it might be a bit and to wait to post until you finish.

If you need to write a post that connects directly to a previous post, but you're worried that someone else might post before you can finish writing, say something in the OOC chat and everyone will wait to post until your done, but you only have a 4 hour window to finish up and post.

Always check the OOC before you post, just so you know what's up.

Breaking the rules can end up in being expelled (kicked out, or whatever you want to call it) from the roleplay depending on the offence.

Lastly, if you have any questions, hit me up. If you choose to be an alien, mutt, or hybrid, send me a message giving me more information on your character as well as an example of what your roleplay post might be like so I can get a sense of what kind of writer you are. If I like your moxie, you're in.