Roleplaying

Verit didn't need the explanation. Despite the tin, he could very much detect the human content inside. Folding his legs under him and getting up, Verit wordlessly made his way towards the meal.

Stooping onto one knee, head down, Verit bent and with outstretched arms took an item in each hand. He frowned, however, when he noticed the mark he had drawn on his wrist earlier was still unmistakable despite the smearing. His hoodie sleeve, while rolled down, still didn't quite cover his wrists.

Drawing the tin and thermos near and moving into a cross-legged position, Verit tilted his head upwards, fixing a critical gaze on the top of the mutt's head. He detected a scent clinging on the mutt's hair- actually, that of another mutt. He thought he smelled common ghoul in the new scent, but wasn't quite sure.

Looks like somebody's close, Verit thought idly before relenting his stare and turning his attention back to food. He took the tin in hand, ready to pry it open.

Celeste followed his gaze with her hand, up, up, into her hair where she smoothed it self consciously. Then imitation followed – she lowered herself to the ground and crossed her legs, fingers grasping at the outermost leg. The healer wanted to document his actions, to make sure he followed through with the food and drink until he was fully satisfied.

Her pinkie traced a triangle on the gritty floor and dribbled unspoken words around thoughtlessly. Despite her gaze, her eyes were sightless and covered over with a glassy film, turned inward to her paper-white, blank mind that had died off in the silence. There was only the movement of her finger and the steady inflation-deflation of her chest.

Jett shifted, and Celeste snapped back into the moment. She sniffed and scrunched her shoulders up to her ears, then dropped them into a slight swing. There were no words she had to say – there was simply waiting.

Ignoring the human and the mutt for the most part, Verit slotted a finger underneath the lid of the tin and popped it off. The discarded top clattering onto the concrete floor, Verit hopped the hunk of meat onto the lip of the container, taking the corner between his teeth. Dragging a good portion of it further out, he bit down, a good mouthful sheering cleanly off with little resistance.

Letting his arms lower back down into his lap, Verit ate his bite silently, looking absentmindedly to the floor. He wasn't quite rushing his meal nor was he being deliberately slow- rather he was just. Well, eating. There was something missing, and Verit had a clue as to what it was. There was no triumph in consuming the food that he had clutched loosely in his hands.

He could tell it was fresh- at most three days old. He could tell it was human- again, without a doubt. It was good eating, not lots, but it was good. There was nothing about it that was wrong. Nothing. Except that it was from a tin, from inside a cooler, and had been cut and prepared for that very reason. There was nothing about it that was off- it had to be the most generic piece of meat he could possibly put a word to.

What Verit knew was missing was that he hadn't killed it, seen it. Something, somebody else had done it for him. He hadn't felt the rush of the moment nor the thrill of having the good luck of stumbling upon an unconsumed body. Dipping his head down to snip off a perfect cube from a chilled fillet was unnatural. There was no blood, no musk. He felt no urgency, no thrill, nothing in consuming the food. Verit had felt it earlier, too, when he had been fed by the black-haired human- but it hadn't been as strong as now. He hadn't thought about it until now.

His thoughts not apparent on his face as he finished the tin's contents, Verit set the now-empty container down, turning the lid onto it. It slid tight with a clip, and Verit was somewhat glad that he didn't have to stare into its somehow depressing insides. Little streaks of red clung to the outsides of the tin, but were all from the cuts on his fingers. None of the meat had fallen out of its container, nor had touched anything but his teeth before being consumed.

Really, it was quite depressing.

Verit stared at the thermos, not really wanting to use it. After not having eaten anything in a long time, his insides probably needed to get used to having something in it. Though again, with how cold and emotionless the whole affair was, his internals might as well mislabel it as 'beef' and reject it.

“If it stays, I'll acquire more,” Celeste said, cocking her head to the side.

She stood and dusted off the back of her skirt, then moved back to her cot and pulled out the notebook. Her hand flew and planted thought onto paper, letting it take root and grow. Already she had filled a page and a half with notes on her patient and his behavior – his misfortune was becoming her learning experience, though that gave her no consolation on his state, both mental and physical.

What could drive a person to care so little about their own well being was certainly a question that had been plaguing her since she had noted his odd behavior at his arrival, and she wondered deeply whether it was simply new age behavior or personal to her patient himself. Of course, either way didn't matter for that moment. All she cared about was seeing his health return to a stable state.

It was definitely going to, Verit decided. Unless it had been laced with some sort of preservative or something- which he doubted- he would be fine.

Deciding that for the time he was just going to stay where he was, Verit idly picked up the thermos and turned it in his hands. He didn't really feel like drinking any water, but there wasn't anything else to do instead. There was going to be a period of time before his system digested anything, and he reckoned it would probably take the time to absorb it all. Tops, maybe he could expect some pressing repairs to happen the next day.

Placing the thermos horizontally on the ground, Verit rolled it back and forth between his hands, wondering whether or not the mutt was going to fall asleep anytime soon.

Celeste paused her writing and looked over at the ghoul. She watched him play with the thermos for a few moments before breaking through the odd wall that seemed to grow during silence between doctor and unwilling patient.

“How often do... you... ahm, pardon. How often do you require food?” she asked, her voice breaking oddly part way through her question.

It was weak from lack of use, and without a companion to translate her signs she found she had overused it. Already her throat was growing scratchy and sore, but it would have to be dealt with later. There was no time to make up a remedy so near to dinner and with a patient that required a constant eye. Even if she'd had the extra time, nothing could have torn her away from such an interesting case even had her throat been rubbed raw and dried out until they felt like they were cracking. That was why she required a second hand, a nurse of sorts. They were there not only to keep an extra set of eyes on the patient and help with the medicine dealing but also to make sure she didn't forget to take care of her own self during the whole process.

Verit was about to say something, but his breath whistled past his throat silently, and he produced no sound. Stopping the thermos, Verit looked up to the mutt, this time paying attention to what he was trying to do. Straining his breath, Verit tried to force a noise out of his throat- but to no avail. It was like there was a traction there that was missing, like nothing was catching the air. It was almost like he was trying to speak a pitch too high for him to hit.

Ignoring how his throat complained at the effort, Verit forced his voice harder. The sound of air rushing past was all that came out, however, and Verit dropped his head to his hand, raking his hair back in annoyance.

Celeste shut the notebook, pushing it back to it's place beneath the pillow. She climbed off of the cot again and came over to the cell, crouching near the door in calm curiosity quite akin to that of a cat watching the activities of the world through a window.

A lost voice was something she had found for many others before, though how it worked for a ghoul, and a new age one at that, was something she had never dealt with before, nearly the same as everything else her patient had already brought to the table. Theories were beginning to formulate and take crude shape, though there was one in particular she thought was most likely.

“Have you lost your voice before? I think... ahm... your vocal chords. They mustn’t... mustn’t be closing,” she suggested, scooting closer to the bars.

Verit fought the urge to shift back a few inches in response to the mutt's approach.

Swallowing a couple times and soundlessly clearing his throat, Verit was going to attempt to say something before just shaking his head. He had the feeling that he was going to have to deal with being mute until his body fixed itself up. Really, since when was this kind of thing this bad? Verit didn't remember losing his voice before, and he sure wasn't going to forget it anytime soon.

Righting the thermos, Verit unscrewed the cap and took a drink. It didn't feel too good, however, and he put it back down. He didn't really like drinking water in the first place, so no loss on his part.

Celeste puffed out a tiny laugh and lowered her head, smiling at the ground.

“Oh, Illness... how troublesome... well, now you have a reason to learn signing.”

With the last word she moved her hand in a small motion, demonstrating for him. She smiled in an odd, almost motherly way before moving to sit down fully and shaking her hands out. A finger pointed at the ghoul, and she signed his name. Her hand swiveled, swinging the finger around in a one-eighty. A smooth, two fingered sign was made for her name.

“It's important to know around here,” the healer said, hands moving as she spoke, “and no one gets upset at single-worded answers because they're 'easier' – no one sees it as rudeness, even if I mean it to be.”

... What-

Verit's mind skipped a beat. He must have blanked out for a moment, because it seemed to him as if he'd missed half of the mutt's words. Eh?

Verit was struck by a feeling of disorientation, and a moment later he realized it was due to the missing followup of his thought. His mouth had already made into articulating the expression, but upon exhalation no sound had been produced, his ears meeting silence when he expected his own voice.

Verit stared at the mutt numbly, not having quite caught on to what it was trying to demonstrate. He watched the moves diligently enough, but the meaning was lost to him. He didn't know if the pointing was 'part' of the thing or if it was just something else, or if the words the mutt was speaking was what was being reflected in the hand movements.

Feeling rather uncomfortable, Verit took another drink from the thermos. For some reason he thought it would make him feel better, but it wasn't quite the case.

Celeste tilted her head to the side and pushed her hair away from her face, watching the ghoul's reaction with a kind calculation. It was hard to tell if he cared or not, but it wasn't as if he could complain about it or talk back, so she decided to take grasp of the fortuitous situation she'd been put in.

“Is the water making your throat feel any better?” she asked, signing only for the nouns.

At that point in the conversation she could have used some herself. Things would have been so much easier with Jett there to be her voice. At times his absence has caused similar situations that left her throat in a ragged, scratchy state and would leave her wondering if she ought to speak more often, but the mere thought of it left her feeling uncomfortable and disgusted.

Verit blinked indifferently. 'What, did you want some?' he mouthed, his throat making a slight rasping sound as he did. He guessed the gesture replaced their respective words in the sentence, but once they had been done he barely remembered what they were.

He capped the thermos, not really intent on having any more liquid. He wasn't sure if it was helping or hurting his throat at this point, but really he suspected it didn't make too much of a difference.

He tipped the thermos in the mutt's direction with a finger, not really sure if he was actually seriously offering or not. It wasn't like he was going to drink it anyways- he felt like he had enough water for the day.

The healer popped the hinged grate at the bottom of the door open and put the back of her hand on the floor, fingers poking inside the cell. She was surprised that he had offered the thermos back to her, and she wasn't sure whether he meant it seriously or not. The tooth incident had revealed his more selfish nature, and she wasn't keen to repeat any incident like it. However, if he was serious...

“If you're sure you're done...” she said, her voice cracking and breaking towards the end.

Her free hand fluttered up and brushed at her throat, and a pale pink blush crept across her cheeks in embarrassment. It was like her vocal folds were trying to irritate her, like they'd imagined up a scheme to make her voice more horrible than she already thought it was. Celeste cringed at the thought of it.

Verit paused and then huffed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. Yeah, whatever. The thermos wasn't his; it wasn't like he could do anything with it, anyway. He slid the tin towards the mutt as well- why not take that too?

Really, if the mutt wasn't going to shut up Verit might as well make it so he didn't have to listen to voice cracks and things repeated three times to flow in one sentence. Heck, he'd do anything to stop the mutt from gesturing vaguely at him, and if giving up some water was going to be the solution, then so be it. Consider it saving himself some pain.

Verit took note of the mutt's grimace, his lips turning slightly into a frown. Wow, okay, sure it was an empty tin with some bloodstains on the outside but really he thought the mutt was a healer.

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.