Roleplaying

The earth beneath her shoes felt so far away, though all that stood between her and the ground was a thin layer of material. Her feet were imprisoned and numbed from the vibrations of the city which made it seem dull and lifeless. She was detached from her surroundings, it was as if her feet never touched the earth. Humans were foolish creatures for shoes to have been such a prevalent piece of clothing throughout their history. Greg had spoken though which had prevented her from continuing to obsess about how redundant shoes were.

If she had been a full human it was likely she wouldn't have survived this long. Her more ghoulish side had helped her make the rough transition from being cared for by her father to surviving on her own in the streets the day he disappeared. Her decaying flesh helped to make her more resistant to inclement weather, while her heightened sense of smell aided her in avoiding danger and searching for food in a way that no purebred human could.

"I like my ghoul side. It's certainly more useful than my human half." Though as much as she detested her human genes, they did prove useful when it came to survival. Her human half decreased the amount of time it took for her wounds to heal. On one occasion she had been starving for weeks, and had it not been for her ability to eat food other than meat, she would've likely starved to death. She couldn't survive terribly long without meat though.

Lorin had never had any high aspirations. She never had a chance to come up with a dream of her own. Her Mother planned for her to become a simple housewife and tried to force her to become some conforming little girl. Her Father made an attempt to better her hunting skills so she might have a hair's breadth of a chance at becoming a bounty hunter, which even then she had believed as a somewhat reckless job. After being torn between their plans for her future for so long, it had become difficult for her to know what she had wanted besides surviving for another day when they had disappeared from her life. It was clear what she didn't want though, and it was the life these wealthy beings lived. They were so far removed from the world's problems, standing far above the rest of the poorer beings of the world. They were immune, for the most part, of the violence, famine, and fear that the rest of them faced. Between them and the struggles of the common people stood an insulating pair of shoes that came in the form of wealth. The moment you removed those shoes they would stumble and fall as they had forgotten how to walk on their own.

She stopped staring at her feet and noticed how Greg stared at these crowds of people. Their mannerisms and conversations confused her, as these people were so removed from the common people they even had certain ways in which they communicated differently. "Even if we stumbled across a rediculous amount of money we'd be nothing like them."

Greg smiled at her. It was a simple, homemade smile that looked like a bottle-cap pin or a handcrafted table. There was no extravagance to it; it was a base stock smile, unexplainable in any other way. It was straight from the far off world of peace found only in a countryside cottage where low, stone walls bordered the yard and great oaks played groaning sentinels in their old age. There was also a tinge of disappointment that glimmered painfully in the corners of his eyes, little fish that swam in the shadows of his eyelashes and bemoaned of something that had been seen time and time again. He didn't know if she would recognize it, but he was sure that she was capable of reading emotions well.

“I'm not gonna lecture or patronize you, but I do think you're too narrow minded. Half of the people in these streets are nothing like each other... Oh! Looki there, it's just up ahead. That was quick,” he said, nodding to a large hotel.

Greg stopped and moved to lean up against the side of a restaurant out of the flow of passersby and took a few moments to watch the street. His eyes kept roaming back to the hotel to observe the porters and the patrons that were breathed in and out by the large glass doors, bustling about and causing an eddy on the patch of sidewalk before the building. It was a lively scene that had already chased away the displeasure in his countenance and brought forth something more open and energy-driven.

“Okay, my little kötümser, time to take a leap out of your comfort zone. The security at this particular hotel is more lax for guests, so getting in is going to be a breeze for the two of us, but we are playing guests which means we have to act like them. Look around you – there's physical contact everywhere. Hand holding, arm linking, shoulder rubbing, the list goes on. Look at their faces. Totally comfortable. Totally unaware. Totally unfocused on anything but each other. Just pretend it's your camouflage. Which would you hate less, arm linking, hand holding, or having my arm around your shoulder?”

What, was that disappointment? Lorin turned her gaze downward and rubbed a shoe across the ground when they stopped. Normally she would have preferred clawing at the earth, but if she made an attempt to do that now she'd only damage the shoes. Narrow minded? It looked as if the majority of these people never worked a day in their life. Some of these people were born into wealth and sheltered from reality their entire childhood. Many of them were raised differently than her, and she would think Greg was raised differently from them as well. She shouldn't care about his opinion, but she knew very few people. There was only one other person she had come close to befriending other than Greg and his group, it was the Collective member who had first introduced her to the Collective after seeing the pitiful conditions she had been living in and recognizing her potential.

Her frustration left her expression for now, as it would likely be more suspicious. None of these people appeared upset or discontented. They likely hid those emotions behind whatever deceptive mask they wore in the eye of the public. Why was it they had to implement so much physical contact into their lives? She pondered over which form of contact she felt was the most tolerable. Her first instinct told her to go with arm linking or hand holding, but she quickly realized those were the forms of contact that would make her feel the most trapped. She'd feel as if she couldn't flee as quickly if it became necessary. Typically she preferred tight enclosed spaces, and perhaps if something did go wrong she could use Greg as a body shield and escape. "I might be less likely to maul you if your arm was around my shoulder," she couldn't make any promises though.

A classic Greg-grin appeared on his lips, and the half ghoul put his arm gently around her shoulders. To the best of his ability he kept the touch light and loose, but while walking through the sidewalk traffic there was little to be helped on the occasion that someone passed too close; in those moments he pulled her closer to his side and curled his arm a little more protectively around her shoulders. He led her along comfortably towards the targeted building and smiled down at her adoringly.

“There's a man just ahead who's one of the guests – I just saw him put his key card in his pocket – and we're just going to – Whoops! Oh, man, I'm so sorry, didn't see you there, yeah, I know, yes, she's very pretty, uh huh, I'll keep my eyes ahead, sorry sir – going to just bump into him and borrow his access card.”

Greg showed Lorin the card in question with a wicked grin. The unfortunately robbed man had continued on his way, never to be the wiser as to what had happened in the moment that he'd crashed into Greg. He continued to guide his companion along until they were beneath the extended carport and right before the main entrance. A duo of guards stood on either side of the doors and watched the two approaching with the unconcerned suspicion that was required of them and which immediately disappeared at the flash of the key card. Then they were in.

The lobby was an overwhelming show of glass, lights, and décor. Though it was certainly a tumult to the senses of the unaccustomed, it was finely designed and was not in the least bit gaudy. Crystal chandeliers and golden moulding bedecked the ceiling, and a deep red carpet with gold bordering ran from the front door up a set of wide stairs with large, curling banisters and gilded balusters. Red climbing roses draped the walls on the far side of the lobby in precisely designed shapes, and matching furniture was carefully arranged throughout the room.

There was a perfect example of why she typically carried a knife in her pocket. It had only taken Greg a moment for him to snatch the guest's key card. Getting into this building felt it should've proven more challenging, then again all pickpocketing required was a light hand and a little misdirection. It was a simple enough task that had it not been for her carrying a knife in her pocket, it was likely more than a few Collective members would have lost what precious belongings they carried with them yesterday to a group of children.

"Oh, wow," she mumbled softly as soon as they entered the building, the beauty from the room aiding to distract her from her urge to pull away from Greg. Everything from the molding on the ceiling to the bordering of the carpet contained delicate forms. But why? None of these people appeared to be staring at the ceiling or floor. The furnire had been so meticulously placed throughout the room only for the majority of the guests present to never utilize it. The room was filled with all forms of alluring uselessness, the most distracting of which were the chandeliers. The thousands of stringed glass beads gleamed and tried reaching for the floor in an attempt to steal even a passing glance from the distracted people below, only to succeed in gaining Lorin's gaze. She had never seen so many electrical lights, and it looked like atop the fake candles of the chandelier perched compacted stars. As they walked beneath it could she notice it's intricate fractal pattern that went unnoticed by many.

Noone else seemed to pay any mind to the chandeliers, so she did her best to look away. They reminded her of one house in the Collective where one being had strung lovely shards of colored glass and mirrors. No, the creature that lived in that building was something to best not think about at this particular moment. When she had first arrived at the Collective, the individual who had made her aware of the place's existence in the first place had decided to introduce her to some of the people they knew. One of those people being Coewal, who horrified her. She had maybe seen him for a few minutes before desperately making excuse after excuse so she could leave. Since then she hadn't run into him, nor did she ever hope to.

To attempt to distract herself she decided to think about the task at hand. Whoever they were stealing from was bound to either have decent food, or a few loose credits lying around if he stayed in a place like this.

Greg hugged Lorin in closer and beamed at her. “Awesome, right? I've been here a few times before and let me tell you, this place is the fanciest. Sometime we're going to the ballroom, we'll play waitress and bartender or something and catch up on the latest gossip. I'll bet if we painted those lips of yours and played with some eye makeup you'll get tips galore. No worries, though, the men aren't allowed to be touchy-feely, they're all too high standing for behavior like that in public. Just don't get caught outside or in the hallways with any of them, even the ladies like t-”

He broke off and waved his key card at a hotel clerk who'd been eying him. She blinked and turned away stiffly, embarrassed to have been caught staring. He tisked quietly to himself and put his face close to Lorin's head, continuing to watch her through his eyelashes until she looked back. He took that moment to smile endearingly down on his companion and rub her arm soothingly. One more wave of the key card at the elevator doors and they were out of the lobby.

The elevator doors closed, and Greg let go of Lorin to punch at a floor number. The carpeted floor was plush beneath his shoes, the side railing gilded and smooth to his hand, and a row of plush benches lined the walls which he took quick advantage of. In the back two corners were black box tables holding slim glass cups that were pre-filled and bubbling invitingly. He picked one up and peered at it critically before taking a sip and nodding.

“Eol would be offended – this is an Agoarn ceremony-of-union drink. I wonder what shameless bootlegger got his hands on this, it's really hard to make or buy. You should have some – it can be our toast to a partnership, or something like that. Sit, too, this is going to take a few minutes. Elevators aren't made for quick trips anymore, people like luxury, and luxury means doing things slowly.”

He gestured next to him with a nearly elegant wave of the hand and took a deep breath with a pleased expression settling into his features. The atmosphere of high society was beginning to bring out a more cultured side of the halfbreed, and the comfort he showed in his actions revealed a certain quality of familiarity that could be found on only those who had been doing something so long that they need not put any thought into it whatsoever.

“I really thought that clerk was going to ruin our vibe. I think she got the picture, though. By the way, you're doing excellently, I should reward you with something. Hm. I'm going to have to think about that. How are you feeling so far, angel?”

As soon as Lorin had entered the elevator her feet felt unsteady. The surfaces she typically stood on were made of solid and definite material and she was startled for a moment when her feet sunk slightly into the carpet. What moron would make material so troublesome to tread on? It's not like any of the guests would be able to fully appreciate it with their shoes on, which all of them seemed so insistent on wearing.

Great, even the elevators are lazy here. It was odd that these people had a decent amount of wealth and an equally rediculous amount of leisure time. They likely employed other people who made money for them. If they took the stairs they would likely reach their destination far faster, but she doubted any of the guests bothered to utilize them. If this was their escape route they were doomed, though she had trust that Greg couldn't possibly be foolish enough for this to be their way out.

She half stumbled towards the table, taking a few moments to adjust to how the carpet gave way beneath her shoes. Fortunately it was just the two of them or her gracelessness on this particular surface would have been a dead giveaway that she wasn't quite who she appeared to be. She grabbed the cup and redeemed her initial clumsiness when she managed to walk over to the bench without spilling any of the cup's contents. While taking a seat she sniffed and sipped the drink, unsure of how she felt about it.

How did she feel? As safe as this place seemed, they had already managed to seem suspicious to a clerk. "I feel like a sheep in wolves clothing." She felt like she was some horned variety of sheep. If forced to she could defend herself, but compared to many of these guests she had a pitiful amount of influence and connections. The cost of being discovered could be dire. Even if they made it outside of the hotel without any issues, they still had to get to the meeting spot and then the Collective without being attack by scavengers more powerful than them.

Greg nodded and rested his head back against a pillow. “I personally love it. I wonder if Phil or Abya is working in the kitchen today... I haven't see either of them for a few weeks. What a shame. Oh well! I want you to meet Abya, everyone adores her. She's very pleasant.”

Then his eyes wandered to the ceiling, undoubtedly dreaming about his friend. He stared off for quite some time as they passed floor after floor, but after a few he, with a resigned sigh, pulled himself back into the present, though he looked displeased over tucking his thoughts into the back of his mind.

“I hope this guy has a girlfriend who stays over. We need a woman's purse,” he said distractedly.

Then he stood and paced across the floor, a knuckle between his teeth in musing. He'd already thought about it all, but he wanted to make sure everything was wrapped up and complete. From beginning to end, starting at what they'd already done, the half-ghoul ran through the steps to success he'd created the night previous. After each point he nodded to himself, grimly pleased with his work that had been or was about to be done.
He stopped and clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes widening and eyebrows raising.

“Oh. Oh damn. I didn't think about that.”

Greg knew people who worked here? Was that how far he had tangled himself into his delusion? Lorin felt it was best not to involve themselves into the lives of these people. They hadn't been raised the same way as any of them, and sooner or later that truth would reveal itself through their words or actions. Sure knowing a few of the staff members could help them to better blend in, but she wasn't convinced that the benefits of meeting this Abya outweighed the risks.

"Greg, what didn't you think about?" Her voice was laced with concern and just a hint of panic and fury. She had put in a great deal of trust that he had done this before and had done his research. Now he was telling her that he hadn't thought of something? It was too late to turn back on this 'hunt' now. All she felt she could do is hope the repercussions of whatever he had overlooked wasn't too harsh. What could it have been he hadn't thought of that he seemed so concerned about? Maybe he had forgotten to search for a decent escape route? Or perhaps this elevator had a camera that could give them away? Hopefully it wasn't the latter or this 'hunt' was as good as over and they'd likely never be able to show their faces here again. She hoped that whatever it was, it wasn't too harsh. At the same time though if Greg had her concerned over nothing she would be furious with him.

He rubbed his chin and pursed his lips and put a hand on his hip, head cocked and eyes on the floor. It was a few more moments before he answered Lorin, the contemplation of the situation taking up all of his brainpower. In truth there was very little going on in there – though he thought hard over his newly discovered problem he had nothing immediate to offer up.

“Alright, my little kötümser,” Greg said slowly, looking over at her from his position near the doors, “Keep faith in me. It's a wrinkle, but it's down the road some. Let's just get through what we need to before we come to that...”

The elevator slowed, a small bell announced arrival to platform, and the doors began to open. Greg puffed through his lips and nodded at her, then moved to the hallway and held the doors. His face readjusted to something more collected, and though his grin returned there was still softness and gravity to his voice when he said,

“Trust me – and focus on what we're doing and who we're pretending to be.”

Lorin wasn't some blind faithful dog, though it felt that was what Greg was expecting her to be. Already he had overlooked something and wasn't telling her what it was. Did he not trust her to be able to keep calm if she knew this information? Unlike some dog she didn't live in the present blissfully unaware of what the future would hold. She felt it necessary to concern herself with what dangers lie ahead and now felt she was helpless and dependent since he was withholding this vital information from her.

There was little other options she had. Chances were that Greg wasn't going to give up on this 'hunt', and she didn't have a keycard nor the knowhow to exit the hotel without raising any suspicion.

The elevator doors were open now, it was too late to voice her concerns. In the event anyone was watching she held her hands behind her back to resist clawing his face from frustration. Everything from her expression to the way she walked seemed genial. When she had moved closer to him she offered a vicious whisper, "I'll trust you, but if something goes wrong it's on your head."

Greg didn't answer to her, but he smiled and stepped out, nodding briskly to the small party waiting for the elevator. The hodgepodge of elite, otherworldly citizens repeated the gesture politely, moved in, and were gone. Just like that, the hall was empty, and Greg was off, gallivanting past doors and decorative tables.

Everything seemed silent besides the soft pat of his shoes against the hallway runner. There were no sounds of entertainment systems, running showers, or late-set alarm clocks to his sharp ears, not even the whir of a team of cleaning bots out to help their coordinator. There could hardly have been a more perfect time to play thief, and Greg knew it well.

He stopped short at door 1152 like a wave of energy colliding with stillness and pulled out a gold card, all in one sudden movement. A quick wave introduced the click of a well kept lock, and the door breathed a sigh. It was open.

“After you, dear.”

The thief's voice was giddy, full of delight, and with a flourish he stood aside, hand presenting their golden opportunity.

Now that they weren't under the scrutiny of the wealthy she allowed herself to relax. The few scents she could perceive seemed distant or muffled by walls and doors so for the most part, they were alone. Perhaps the silence would have concerned a human but unlike a purebred she could smell another before they entered her line of sight. These people covered themselves in chemicals that made scenting them out effortless. Wearing such chemicals in the streets would be suicide as it symbolized wealth, wealth other creatures of the streets lacked and desperately needed to survive. Hopefully there would be no perfume residue left on her after they exited the building.

Could Greg have looked any more excited? There could be others still in their rooms that could hear them. The half glare she gave him was an attempt to get him to, "tone it down." She kept her voice down should any ears be listening. However as soon as she had entered the room and caught scent of the food it contained her eyes lit up. There was a decent amount of food and it was of higher quality than anything she had ever laid her hands on. She couldn't help but get excited. The food here would be better than anything she had ever dragged back to camp. How many people would this feed she wondered. Without seeing the actual food supply she couldn't tell. "Greg, you're a genius," of course she didn't yet know what part of this plan he hadn't thought of yet.

The halfbreed grinned as the door was gently shut and relocked. “No need to waste this opportunity. These rugs are imported from the Bavi system, brand new. Abya says they're absolutely delightful.”

So his shoes were untied, placed next to the door, and stuffed with his socks. One step onto the carpet and every hard line in his body melted to softness. His steps after that were involved, each one taking a good deal of time, and none without at least a shiver of delight or a deep sigh until he reached the hard floor of the kitchenette. He moved with the ease of someone who was at home in their friend's house and felt it was a second natural habitat. In fact, with his clothes and bare feet, he nearly looked like a house husband waiting for the kids to wake up. From the way he tapped on the counters as he passed them to the way he bent to peek in the refrigerator, it felt like it was truly his own apartment.

“Hey, kötümser, look at this guy's fridge. How fat do you think he is? I haven't seen this much cheese cake since the New York heists...”

With a practiced air, Greg played the kitchen like an instrument, turning up bottles of wine and prescription medicines with the style of a magician, sniffing things as he went and humming softly to himself, but he stayed to a particular section of cabinets with dedication, claiming his own territory and leaving the rest for his partner.

After observing Greg remove his shoes she removed her own. Lorin had been waiting for any oppurtunity to take them off this entire trip. The carpet's material was almost feathery. Would it be so bad if she cut out a small square of it? Oh right, fridge, food, she needed to stay focused. She scampered to the fridge nearly tripping over the carpet. "Wow, does this guy even eat?" If the fridge was full it meant he hardly ever ate, right? Or perhaps it meant he simply had others who filled it for him. "Cheese... cake?" That seemed like a miserable combination. There was no way the pillow case she had would... where was it? She must've forgotten it in the alleyway. Great. Well a man with this much possessions had to have a suit or travel case stored somewhere.

After searching the nearest closet for maybe a moment she had already found a travel bag. Even the bags here were of high quality. It was likely made from exotic leathers as it didn't feel like the hide of any Earth animal she was familiar with. She couldn't help but feel like the sneaky thief she was being, stealing a man's food with his own bags. They still had the tags on them so technically he hadn't claimed them yet. He probably wouldn't even notice they were missing. Ooh, they had wheels on them. That would make lugging them around less of a burden. After staring at the carpeting in the closet for a moment she couldn't resist from cutting out a small square of the material from out of the corner and placing it in a suitcase. Soon after she trotted over to kitchen opening the suitcase and a cabinet, sweeping an arm across the shelves knocking any non perishable foods into the suitcase. The food needed to survive the trip to their encampment. They needed to be quick as Greg still needed to do the computer thing. She knew nothing of those magical devices . "Don't forget about the computer."

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.