Roleplaying

Jett juggled the materials around, draping the gauze across his shoulder and unrolling the cloth to take his knife to. His chin was tilted downward, and there was a strong look of concentration molding his features into a hard yet innocent expression. Then his movements stopped – he blinked and slowly slid his eyes upward to look at the ghoul. Greg caught on to his glace, and like the good friend he was he translated it perfectly, effectively reading Jett's mind.

He sidled into the cell casually and sniffed before saying, “Uhm, so Jett's a little shy about these things. I think it's what really makes him so cute, but I'll have to ask for him. Can you take off your jacket and shirt yourself, or will you need help?”

For once, it seemed, there was no joke or mischief in the mutt's voice. Greg asked the question dutifully with a strong, albeit light, sense of seriousness. Jett reacted oddly at his tone and almost felt irritated – he knew better than to act so childish about a question like that, and he shouldn't have hesitated to ask and let Greg beat him to the punch. His movements became stiff and tight, and a soft puff of air escaped his lips.

Verit stared at the ghoul-alien blankly.

Just what now.

Verit turned his gaze back to the human, looking dubiously to the cut strips of stuff it had in its hands. He didn't really care if they wanted him to strip but why the hell were those things around. And why the human was acting all sigh-y.

Bringing a hand to his hoodie zipper and grasping the material of his shirt, Verit cautiously slid the pull tab down. Alright, sure- "What are those for?" he asked guardedly. The two didn't seem like they were just going to enlighten him if he didn't ask. He had a feeling it had something to do with why they wanted him to take his shirt off, so he cooperated as a way to get them to tell him.

Jett continued with his work, carefully measuring out his materials. At the question he didn't look up, but he provided an answer before Greg could.

“Bandaging cuts will keep you from bleeding out.”

“Plus,” Greg added, “You won't get blood all over the sheets. You're lucky Celeste isn't here, she'd probably put something on the bandages to clean the cuts.”

The materials were ready – Jett took the mutt's hand and positioned it with one finger pointing outward which he placed the tape roll on. It was true – their healer friend would have gone the extra mile in her duties, but he wasn't about to if it involved getting any items from her. He moved towards the ghoul and nodded at him, hands outstretched to begin the bandaging process.

Well, that was kind of stupid. If they didn't want something getting bloodsoaked, they were just going to get something else to get dirty in its place? He didn't really see these few strips of material 'holding it in' for too long, either. Don't tell him they just intended on replacing it over and over? The moment the bandage was removed everything was just going to come right back out, anyways.

Verit, again, wasn't quite seeing the logic here.

He frowned. Judging by what the ghoul-alien mutt was reporting, things could be considerably worse. He opted not to warrant further hassle- they could do whatever they wanted to do.

Reaching over his shoulders, Verit grabbed the nape of his t-shirt along with the hood of his sweater and pulled both over his head. His shirt peeled away from his skin, dripping and sopping wet. It was as if it had been drenched in red dye.

Pulling his arms from his hoodie's sleeves, Verit looked apathetically at his side. Underneath a smearing of red, the skin about his ribs were discolored and scored with other bruises and scratches. A sizable gash had blood steadily streaming from it, and the liquid coursed down his side to mingle with the flow of other lesser cuts.

Somebody had to have been wearing razor-tipped boots. Really, that or they had claws on their feet. At least none of his ribs were showing. Those incidents were never fun.

Verit looked back to the human. It was an idiot. "I'll bite you, you know," he said breezily. In reality, he was feeling rather lightheaded and nauseous but a threat never went unappreciated on his count.

Jett puffed through his nose in amusement at the ghoul's words. “If you bite me, I'll have Greg kiss you.”

He moved in with some speed and began his work which, based on the familiarity in his fingers and an expression that lacked concentration, seemed to be something he did often. The sheet was used like a rag to mop up any blood that was getting in his way and keeping the tape from sticking, and it amused him to note how quickly it was died a new color. Jett felt his mouth hardening at the sight of the redness, and the many serious jokes he had made about his dislike of blood hopped into relevance. If the patient had been someone less... himself... Jett might have said one of them, though in truth he didn't appear to take much issue with his work or having blood smeared hands.

'So glad Celeste isn't here...' he thought taking a deep breath at that notion.

A tiny cringe tried to inch its way onto his face as he thought about it – he didn't understand it, but it seemed she was always much happier whenever there was blood to be dealt with, and the way she talked about it... At times it came across as an obsession of some sort, and that put him off.

Verit's lips pulled back in disgust at the thought. Letting anything's mouth anywhere near himself was not and could never be a pleasant thought. He was the one that liked to do the eating, thank you very much. 

He looked to the ghoul-alien mutt in question. No, definitely not. Never.

Weighing the options and deciding he'd end up with the short end of the stick, Verit went with being moderately complacent. He watched the human work with a morbid interest, not bothering to react to the mild stings and pains. He wasn't feeling any better or worse with the things on him, and truly doubted their effectiveness in the situation.

"So what happens when they're soaked through in the next two minutes," Verit deadpanned idly.

“It's called clotting, genius,” an unfamiliar voice sounded.

An alien with an unidentifiable gender stood with a hand on their hip and a bag dangling from the other, feet planted firmly on the ground in the doorframe. There was a wrap encircling its head and shoulders that was glowing softly and held thick cords at the hem that nearly touched the floor in their length, the whole thing breathing an emanation of almost liquid light. Small fireflies were clinging to the long strands of braided threads, winking their lights like sparkling strings of stars.

Jett turned his head and gave them a quick smile before returning his attention to the patient. “It's good to see you, Kliso.”

In contrast to his friend, Greg had become entranced with the light surrounding the alien, and his eyes sparkled with it as he ran them up and down the long cords, pausing to inspect each insect. That eternal grin was still on his lips, but it was softened with wonder.

“Hey, Kli, long time no see,” he greeted, finally looking into its eyes.

They were milky and there was hardly a pupil or iris to be seen except for faint outlines, but Jet had always felt it was easy to feel them when they landed their gaze on him and therefore were no less effective than if they'd looked the way his own pair did.

“Eol sent a message – this is my freshest find,” the alien said, sliding the bag across the floor. “Food for your pet. It should still be bloody. He might even be able to taste what's left of the life clinging to it.”

“How much of it did you get?” Jett asked.

“I skinned the whole thing.”

Clotting?

Any thought Verit had had of the comment was quickly chased away by the scent of fresh meat. His eyes immediately locked onto the pack containing the food, staring at it as if he could dissect it with just his gaze.

His attention, however, was quickly snapped back to the conversation at hand at the word 'pet'. Verit was very unimpressed with his seemingly inescapable new title, his feelings on the matter present in his expression.

-Wow, how sparkly. For some reason a little voice in Verit's head was telling him 'vampire' over and over again. Maybe it had something to do with seduction. He couldn't see any other reason why something didn't immediately start walking the other way in response to being met with a living, breathing strobe light. Or maybe the sheer luminosity blinded prey into submission. Verit could see the logic behind that.

Auugh, pain! Please, put me out of my misery! My eyeballs can't take it any longer!

...Verit was also curious as to whether the bugs were parasiting the alien or if it was the other way around. Either way, it didn't seem like a fun time.

"Won't be doing much seeing soon," Verit muttered to himself in response to the ghoul-alien mutt's comment.

Jett suppressed a grin at the ghoul's words, but this was easy to do with the thought of human meat on hand. The idea of skinning a body and stripping it of fat and muscle... Animals were one thing, even mysterious and unidentifiable chunks of fresh something were even less disturbing than a whole human body. If the facial features had still been clear, if the skin hadn't began decomposition-

“All of it?” he demanded, turning to look at the alien.

“Not a scrap wasted, Demic. You better like masseter and temporalis muscle.” It sent it's last words over to the patient. “Pity you can't hunt it yourself while still getting care from their healer – she works wonders that could even extend your life and bring color back to your hair. Once they're done playing with you and putting you back together you should consider contacting me. It's always good to have a hunting partner on hand.”

Nothing in its voice conveyed enthusiasm, excitement, or happiness – it was an overall dry tone that gave Jett the impression it would be a fearful one to be scolded by, though Kliso wasn't the kind who reprimanded as far as he knew.

Kliso was different than the majority of the other human-consumers he had met. He wasn't uncomfortable in this one's presence nor felt any stirrings of anger and defense, perhaps because it in its own self had a very different definition of the word hunt in comparison to most. It was almost respectable. Kliso, he'd discovered, was deliberate in every action it seemed to take. Nothing was wasted – no move was unconsidered.

"Duly noted," Verit responded in an equally exuberant fashion. If the alien's account was to be taken seriously, Verit didn't doubt its ability. However, he didn't think it was within his best interest to be around a gigantic glowstick when it came down to it. Going the separate path seemed most viable.

Verit turned to face the human again, giving it a look that clearly meant 'almost done yet?' -But then again, it was almost two minutes and he didn't know whether clotting was an issue he wanted to avoid or otherwise. It sounded rather violent, to say the least, and he hoped it didn't involve the forceful ingesting of yet more inedible stuff.

“Are you staying the night?” Jett asked as he taped the last bandage in place.

His work had certainly stemmed the blood, though some bandages were already spotted through with red. He'd done a neat job otherwise – the patient's body looked like he'd been thrown through a window, maybe more than once. It amazed him that he hadn't died earlier on in his life.

Kliso nodded curtly. “Your extra room will be mine for the remainder my stay.”

Greg's head jerked, and he stared at the alien with unadulterated surprise. “You aren't leaving in the morning?”

Those two milky eyes swung slowly over to the mutt and lingered for a good length on his expression, and there was a shifting of behavior. Something seemed to relax and become gentle, even the glow of the covering was felt to have become more deeply softened, and the fireflies appeared to glow differently.

“Your healer has a patient in need of fresh meat. The more he's given the faster he heals. I will stay until my hunt is complete.”

Then the alien turned abruptly and strode for the door. Its hand circled twice in a wave-like motion, one finger loosely pointed skyward and the action slowing for the second turn. A single lightening bug from each cord detached and flew up to create a small cloud that flew before their host, giving light to the hallway ahead. However, before this odd party left the room, there was one last word of wisdom to be imparted.

Over its shoulder, Kliso threw its words back at them in a voice tinged with dry amusement. “New Age Ghoul's blood doesn't clot.”

... Hooray?

Verit didn't even bother pretending to know what to think. His head was hurting a bit more fiercely now, and there wasn't a single thing that easily made sense in regards to everything's behaviour. Things sounded suspiciously incriminating from Verit's point of view, but he wasn't going to even try fancying any conspiracy theories at this point.

Guess clotting was something he didn't have to deal with?

Pushing aside a fringe of hair that was slicking to the side of his face, Verit absentmindedly wiped the red that came away to his fingers onto the sides of his jeans and shifted, ready to slide off of the cot and make his way to the bag left behind. Food was always a good idea.

Greg grabbed at the bag and stuck his head inside it, staring down the meat. “Ew. This is even too much for me. I wonder how good blood tastes on meat like this. I mean, I've had blood milkshakes and blood smoothies, and rare-cooked long-pork, but this... is very raw...”

He passed the bag over to Jett who turned his head away from it and passed it towards the ghoul. Nothing in the whole world could have compelled him to look. Kliso was a clean cut and knew how to pull a bone clean with a pocketknife, and the thought of seeing all the small muscles he'd bothered to loot from the corpse really churned his stomach. Whoever had their body stripped postmortem could rest peacefully, he was sure, knowing that they at least hadn't become scavenger food and had been respected in how their body was used. Nevertheless, it didn't make things any better.

That was human in a bag, fresh as the hour.

Jett closed his eyes tightly and pushed away a shudder.

Being waited on hand and foot definitely wasn't a bad thing. Verit didn't see himself getting used to it, however- it was a annoying to have everything done for you.

Readjusting his position on the mattress, Verit amused himself with the human's reaction to the bag passed around. Verit hadn't been expecting anything in particular, but for some reason it was incredibly entertaining to watch it squirm. No, pardon his zombinese- it was always incredibly entertaining to watch anything squirm. He just happened to find it moreso in particular with this one.

Grinning to himself, Verit decided to toy with the human. Taking a small strip of meat from the bag, Verit chewed at an edge like he'd seen other things at the fire pit gnaw at a tough piece of meat. There really wasn't a point in doing so, his teeth could easily shred the flesh, but he kept it up for the effect.

"You sure you don't want a bite?" he said casually, watching the human closely. "It's still warm."

An image flashed through Jett's mind where he grabbed a longer muscle and forced it down the ghoul's throat while telling him he better eat up before it gets cold, but the thought left as soon as it had come, and he silently stood and made for the cell door. Greg shut it behind them, and the lock grated against itself as it fell into place.

Jett sat down on a cot and pulled his hat off to run a heavy hand through his hair. Try human meat? It wasn't the first time someone had offered it to him, and he was getting almost used to hearing it, but this time was different because it wasn't by accident. It wasn't done out of politeness nor a case of mistaken race. Spite. That was why it had been said. Pure spite.

He breathed deeply and stared off at a wall blankly. Across the room Greg saw that expression and recognized it instantly.

“Might be early, but I'm tired!” he said, stretching dramatically and making a loud groaning noise. “I want to take the little kötümser out hunting, and you should try finding something more. Your numbers are pretty bad, friend, so let's get some sleep so we can bag a couple of things tomorrow.”

Jett rubbed at his temples and nodded. Before he went down, however, he made sure to keep his bag wrapped up in his arms with a knife underneath his pillow where his hands went.

That night he slept with his boots on.

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.