[hr:2bcpe2x3][/hr:2bcpe2x3][center:2bcpe2x3][/center:2bcpe2x3][hr:2bcpe2x3][/hr:2bcpe2x3][center:2bcpe2x3][ Private Role-play ][/center:2bcpe2x3][hr:2bcpe2x3][/hr:2bcpe2x3]
[hr:2bcpe2x3][/hr:2bcpe2x3][center:2bcpe2x3]
[justify:134vxbgf]Hell deep within icey bowels, engulfed by eternal cold, Xanta's Workshop lay dormant and full of life. Alchemist of Renovatian blood trekked the endless foyers of primal alloy with linen-creame overcoats and clipboards. Administrators and directors swaggered around lifelessly in business suits which appeared to be Rosinderian fashion. Wintry breezes sucked from the ice itself spilled through the icicled vents, posing as mere vapor, instantaneously transforming into snowflakes and glitter specs. Berr.
Elsewhere in the compound, Dr. Sehvin could be found in the hangar discussing schematics, alternatives, and or other business. His hair was wild and frizzled, there was no sign of effort put into style he showcased on the regular. His eyes were as blue as Astrum Noir skies. "Conrad, have we received word from the Overlord?" a timid alchemist approached from the gloom the hangar projected via shadows and poor maintenance. Conrad's height was rivaled by dwarfs, so he had to look up whenever he spoke to someone with inferiority on his mind all the time. "Yes, doctor. He's given you the green light, sir."
The doctor's heavy mink coat of the purest white was snug and constantly resituated to prevent the bone chilling cold with a frost bite attitude. In concurrence to conrad's news, the doctor started zipping up the coat with gloved finger tips that matched the coat. "Excellent, Conrad." The doctor felt the snug hug from the heavy coat much better now that it was zipped. "Why don't you go assemble the new machina pilots. If you will." Pivoting on his left heel, the doctor spun and headed off towards the imports docking area. The shadows claimed the doctor, cloaking even the brightest of whites on his person, presenting the idea of him actually disappearing to those who watched him bop off like idle celeb. fanatics.
The area the doctor moved to was where conrad would bring the pilots, it was also where their machina had been imported from other clandestine localities.
Conrad had his orders, and he wasted no time when it came to completing the objective at hand, no matter how small of the task. He quickly hiked to machina pilot dormitory which was much like spring/winter break than an actual military facility. A majority of the pilots were of Rosinderian blood, so you heard a lot of rosinder music playing, and you surely smelled the Rosinder cuisines that we being chef'd up in the dorm's kitchen.
The machina pilots were informed to wait in the cafe, so that's where Conrad was heading, and it took him an entire eleven minutes to get there.[/justify:134vxbgf]
The snow on the exterior of the building would have chilled any man to the bones, for a Rosinder winter wasn't something to toy with, unless you had the experience and understanding. Its freeze hugged the building, trying to fight into the building and defeat the warmth that was on the inside -- yet futile attacks were halted at the dense, primal-walls. However, attacks on the window panes were affective, and the condensation ran softly down the insides of the blurry glass.
With each rolling tear, Markas lowered his eyes to the dribbles of water, watching the once-transparent surface now cry tears of defeat against the cold outside. Alone and in the back corner of the cafeteria, Desch sat quietly and silently beneath a brilliant white light. The illumination above gave hues of amber and scarlet to the deep, chocolate strands that poured straight from his crown, downward in almost an odd perfection. Not a hair seemed to be out of bounds, except for across his face -- in which strands would always seem to dust themselves into unwanted places.
Mute shifted the hair from his eyes and sighed slightly, knowing that sometime soon -- someone would be there to get the crew. He gave a shifted look across the room which was rather quiet. A few small pods of people here and there, but mostly workers and scientists -- or so they looked. Markas didn't really know who or what they were -- he was just here to serve. He then thought of serving -- and sighed again, heavily this time. He missed Desolation. He missed being able to communicate with someone ... or even something, for that matter. The A.I. that was built into his mech allowed him basic communication with the machine, but even that was better than his totally silent world, for the most part.
People chatted here and there, but not many had spoken to him upon his arrival. One, rather cute woman had tried, by giving him a compliment on his jacket, but he could only smile appreciatively and touch his throat with a wincing smile. She nodded and offered a half-hearted smile before turning heel. Mute's fingers had begun to drum idly on the table top, wondering now if Desol had made it to this base yet. If he'd been properly secured into place during transportation. O, the worries...
If the frigid temperatures of the world outside bothered the pilot, there were no outward appearances of it. The fur-lined leather jacket that hung loose from his frame seemed enough to keep the chill from affecting him as he strode with a purpose.
"Goddamn, I need to find the fuckin' bathroom."
His head turned, pivoting in either direction, as if hoping to see some sign that would point him in which direction to go. Unfortunately for him, both hallways were bare of any signage that would be helpful. Some unnatural instinct told him that it was down and to the right, so that's the way his booted feet led him. His pace quickened as he neared the end of the hall, only to find another 'T' junction in which a choice needed to be made.
"A sign, a person, anything."
He pleaded with whatever passed for holy, strands of crimson whipping around his jawline as he looked either way again. A person, a female in a lab coat it looked like appeared at the end of one of the hallways and he nearly sprinted in getting there, slowing as he approached.
"Excuse me miss, but would you be willing to point me in the direction of the Cafe, and the nearest bathroom?"
The girl looked annoyed and didn't speak, but glance over him from over top of her thin-rimmed glasses. Eventually, after looking him up and down and giving a sigh, she pointed behind her, towards the sign on the wall that read "Cafe" with an arrow pointing to the right.
"Oh, sign. Gotcha."
He said, offering a small smile in return for her help. He trekked off in that direction, thankful for the signs that pointed out the remaining way to the bathroom, sighing as he relieved himself at the urinal, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. A minute later, he was washing his hands before heading out to the main area where he ordered a simple coffee (black with seven sugars) and sat at a table, glancing around the patrons. He wondered how long it was going to be before the owner/operator of this group showed themselves.
The drumming of fingers caught his attention, strange in a room that had small clusters of people talking amongst themselves, that one single sound would find its way to his ears. A turn of his head sent his gaze to the man making the noise, sitting alone. One plus one equaled two, and thus he put together some bits of information that lead him to believe that the man was another pilot; the decision to join him came quickly after that.
Carrying his drink and walking slowly he moved towards the man's table.
"You one of the pilots too?"
e v e r m o r e
“Haha – fucking run, go man, go-hahaha!"
Allister dashed across the compound with his friend, Klayton, in tow – both wearing ski masks and wielding an empty produce basket in each gloved hand; there was noticeable urgency in both their steps as the careened into the foyer connecting the pilot’s dormitory to the café and commons area. Stumbling into the reception area, the duo peeled away their masks and disposed of the produce baskets, which, moments before, had been filled to their respective brims with an assortment of tomatoes. The same tomatoes that were now artistically splattered against the large, panoramic window of the compound's executive security officer in the shape of what could be best described as "slightly phallic."
"D-u-u-u-ude, haha," Klayton started in, doubling over in a fit of laughter.
"Oh god, that guy's gonna' be livid - those were new windows, too! That shit's gonna' freeze in, like, an hour! Hahaha!" Allister howled, bracing himself against a wall.
A group of people passed them by, casting them a look of moot interest; Allister and Klayton were known for their pranks, although they were far more famous for their ability to get away with the aforementioned antics. When the ESO finally saw his window, it wouldn't be long before he deduced the culprits and sought out to persecute them both; however, Allister and Klayton had, two days prior, petitioned for a change of living quarters and had received their orders to move to the opposite side of the facility - giving them the chance to work out an alibi very easily.
Catching sight of his timepiece, Allister had a moment of panic, sobering his laughter: "Hey, I gotta' run: gotta' meeting in the cafe, like, five minutes ago."
Turning on his heel, Allister sped toward the café, yelling a few catcalls at female passerby, and finally brought himself to a discrete walk as he entered the main area of the cafe, dim lights casting long shadows and its dome ceiling echoing noises a bit longer than he appreciated. If he made himself comfortable, then perhaps his tardiness would go unnoticed.
Ordering a glass of juice, Allister spotted a pair of individuals away from the rest, quiet and sitting far enough from the crowds to be left at peace but close enough to be noticed if they wanted to be found, almost hidden in plain sight.
"You two must be here for that meeting, right?" Allister approached them casually, taking a swill of juice from the glass.
you're so sensitive;;&
i am, i am a machine.
[right:2fvhktzo][/right:2fvhktzo]
Pulled almost at once away from the window, to the sound of a chair scooting across the floor, Mute's hazel eyes moved over the man whom sat before him. A bit of a smile crept across the young man's face and be bowed his head respectfully. Turning in his chair, Mute faced the center of the table now -- for a more direct approach to conversation and face-to-face respect and then lifted his hand. Click.
The pen scribbled quickly in a rather stunning and almost calligraphy-like style that had taken years to master, but had to be so -- for it was the only way he communicated in this situation. The pilot turned the yellow-tinted tablet toward the stranger. His question alone offered the thought to Desch that he was also one of the pilots assigned to this little task force, that seemed more mysterious than anything else he'd been assigned to.
[center:2fvhktzo][pre:2fvhktzo]Yes, sir.
Nice to meet you.
You can call me Mute.
And yes - you guessed it.[/pre:2fvhktzo][/center:2fvhktzo]
Mute tapped the end of the pen to the last sentence on the page and then touched his left hand to his throat with a smirk and a nod. His eyes watched the figure, tracing his face and trying to get an understanding of his personality and who he was, by the way he looked and the first few words he spoke. Before this stranger could say anything, another man approached and spoke the same as the first and Desch beamed. Two strangers -- in one day. Maybe this assignment will be worth it afterall...
With a swift, clean action -- Mute kicked the chair and it slid out to stop before Allister, the newcomer with a handsome smirk and a nod to his question. His hair cast enigmatic shadows across his face, hiding his eyebrows, which seemed to do a lot of his talking; the saying, wearing your emotions on your sleeve, became a little more than reality when the two men fell into the circle of a mute man.
Desch turned the paper from the first stranger to the second, and then leaved back, pressing his hands down his coat with an idle thought to take out the wrinkles, watching how they would interact now with one-another.
His attention had turned, thought lost for the moment as a beautiful woman meandered past, oblivious to the presence of Serene and his new compatriot. He let a soft whistle escape his lips, turning his crimson covered head to follow the woman's movements. When his attention turned back, he noticed that a pad had been scribbled on and tilted his head to read the writing.
"Mute, eh? Like...Unable to speak, I'm guessing. Nice to meet ya, man. "
He said aloud more to himself than anything as the third pilot joined them. His eyes tilted towards that man as the chair skidded across the ground and stopped just short of hitting him.
"Yeah, I'm Rein and this guy..." He jerked his thumb towards the man as the tablet turned so the newcomer could read it. He stopped the sentence short, figuring the newcomer would read the tablet. Giving his lips something to do for the moment, he brought the cup to them and sipped, letting his eyes search around for something or someone to glance over. It seemed that it was simply not to be this moment; turning back to his apparent comrades, the cup falling from his lips, elbows resting on the back of the chair as he leaned forward.
"So....I had no idea that hot girls existed this far north." He said with a smirk, inclining his chin towards the girl that had caught his attention only moments ago. She seemed to share that unnatural ability of all females to simply know when a guy was staring at them and turned to face him, catching his gaze. His smirk grew into a full fledged smile, fingers spreading wide to give her a small wave as she smiled back at him.
"I think I'm gonna like being up here, guys."
e v e r m o r e
He nodded and cracked a smile, taking the offered seat: “Dude, that’s all C-Wing is – girls, girls, girls.”
Allister’s obvious ‘teenage’ mentality shone through brilliantly, from his shaggy, unkempt hair to his prankster attitude: he enjoyed his life. The mention of women made his face light up, and his eyes flickered out of focus for a moment as he recalled a myriad of what he would affectionately refer to as "good times."
"Mute, huh? Nice to meet you both. Allister," he pushed the pad back to Mute and, having finished his juice, placed his glass on the tray of a passing male. "'ppreciate it!" The male met his comment with a look of annoyance.
"But yeah, seriously, I didn't know that either until I stumbled into C-Wing accidentally one day. It is like heaven over there, man." If there was ever a facial expression for pure bliss, that was indeed the look that Allister took on as he described C-Wing. "Everywhere. Just everywhere. I could have died a happy, happy man knowing I had at least seen that glorious place." He turned his eyes upward, staring at nothing, and an over-dramatic whimper escaped his throat. "Really, so beautiful I wanted to cry like a bitch."
Allister laughed and leaned back in his chair, rocking it back and forth to stand on one of either of the two back legs with profound skill - as if he had, in fact, taken time out of his life to perfect the talent. He was young for his profession, only twenty years old, but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed it a lot. The day he had been chosen to pilot Onslaught was a glorious day to him, and one he cherished deeply.
"When's the new boss s'posed to be here, ya' know?"
you're so sensitive;;&
i am, i am a machine.
As their attention all seemed to face this woman, another two showed up to greet her as a little luncheon and Mute looked to the men slyly, nodding with a hissing noise -- something that sounded like a bit of a swoosh, as he got up and left the table, his lips a soft noises and grunts he could manage, but this -- this is where his talent came into play. He glided elegantly. Enter: Innocent puppy.
With his tablet in hand and the girls chattering away, making notion to the three men, now two who were sitting over there, staring at them. As Mute approached, he paused next to their table, facing it with a broad smile on his face and then he nodded softly. One of the women asked him a question, her voice was a bit stern, yet curious, "Yes ... can we help you?" She cleared her throat a bit and by default, Mute scrunched his shoulders inward a bit, cutely and then gave them a bit of a warmer smile. He didn't have to try to blush, as he always felt nervous around women in general -- people, really.
He stooped by their table and scribbled something on the paper, then held it up to the women. The two men would instantly see all of their faces change and the soft 'Aww's' would be heard from across the cafeteria. One touched his shoulder and he scribbled a little more down. Afterward, each of the women took the pad and passed it around the table slowly, then one kissed him on the cheek and he stood, grinning stupidly and bowing before them again -- pad in hand, and he moved back to the table of guys.
Mute would have chuckled if he could, and threw the pad onto the table between the guys and smiled widely to them. All three phone numbers were on the pad, with each of their names and a letter next to it, corresponding with what dorm room they were in on this base: Shelly 1C, Rebekah 2C, Renana 5C. Mute grinned and looked to the guys, winking.
Above that, read:
[pre:1l6i6vd7][center:1l6i6vd7]I'm sorry to disturb you beautiful women,
but I'm new to this place.
On top of this, I can't speak.
So, I'm sorry I couldn't explain how you women
looked so radiant and attractive vocally...
I'm Mute -- or rather, that's what you can call me.[/center:1l6i6vd7][/pre:1l6i6vd7]
And the second half, read:
[pre:1l6i6vd7][center:1l6i6vd7]My friends are new here too --
maybe we can all go out on a date sometime?
Do a little sight seeing? Just relax in each other's company --
or just let us bask in your beauty, maybe?[/center:1l6i6vd7][/pre:1l6i6vd7]
Mute chuckled and scribbled quickly on the pad in his beautiful, talented handwriting.
[pre:1l6i6vd7][center:1l6i6vd7]Being speechless, has its advantages.[/center:1l6i6vd7][/pre:1l6i6vd7]
"C-Wing, huh? Gonna have to check it out sometime in the near future."
His response came just as the cup left his lips, his attention focused on the girls for the moment, til eventually he tore his gaze away, finally focusing on Onslaught's pilot.
"Nah man. I have no idea when the boss-man is getting here. Though..."
His attention turned back to the table, letting a smirk curve the side of his lip as he gave the trio of females a small two fingered wave before turning his attention back to Allister.
"...He can take his time gettin' here."
He smiled and downed the remainder of his drink before setting the empty cup on the table, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, obviously in search of something. He hadn't noticed when the quietest of them left until he had looked up, an individually wrapped chocolate in his hand.
"Ah-Ha! Yo, where's he goin'?"
The sentences seemed to run together as he watched the girls coo and warm up. He couldn't hold back the laugh that built up as he realized what was going on, finally letting it out as he slapped his thigh.
"Way to go, man. And I so call dibs on the red-head with glasses."
He extended a finger at the one he was talking about, the girl lifting her hand to wave at him in that delicate fashion that only females could do.
"Which number is hers? I hope it's Rebekah, that's a hot name."
e v e r m o r e
Allister nodded and offered Rein a retort: "Haha, I'll agree with you there; if the view keeps up, he can take his sweet time."
"Yo, where's he goin'?" asked Rein.
"Not a clue, man."
As he chuckled, Mute rosed and wandered over to a group of girls casually; Allister watched with slight interest, eyebrow cocked. For a moment, an expression of confusion hovered over his visage. Mute couldn't talk, and Allister pondered exactly what he intended to do in a such a social encounter. As the moment progressed, his interest rose and a sly sneer crept onto his face as he realized exactly what it was that Mute was doing. The sly bastard, he thought. When he returned and displayed his prize - a paper of numbers and names - Allister let out a loud snicker and a boyish sigh that could be interpreted as if to say "fucking awesome."
"I want that short one with all those piercings," he said, eying the paper, and subsequently the girl that caught his eye "I'm hoping that's Shelly. I like that name. And that face."
Allister had taken rather swiftly to these two characters; that was good, he thought. It was best that he liked the individuals he was to be fighting with. Tension between pilots meant trouble, and it was a breeding ground for violence. So far, all three of them seemed similar enough in demeanor, and Allister appreciated that. It meant things would progress smoothly and quickly.
"What Machina do the both of you pilot? I'm in the hanger a lot, so I've probably seen 'em once or twice. Personally, Onslaught's my baby - the quadruped Machina. She's a beast."
you're so sensitive;;&
i am, i am a machine.
[right:mgv5npfi]
The speechless man gave a bit of an embarrassed blush before inhaling oddly -- a laugh, of sorts. His grin turned toward Rein and his finger touched the paper, pointing at Renana and then pointing at him with a nod, as to say -- she's the red head with the deadly, sexy librarian look and then nodded to Allister, because his wording and pick was dead on. To him, Mute gave a thumbs up with a smirk again.
It was only then, that Mute turned back to the table, to see between the two beautiful women, the black haired vixen who was his -- Rebekah. Her ivory skin was only matched by the fierce emerald eyes that were perfect set into almond shaped sockets. A shiver ran up his neck as she looked over at him and winked -- his entire body stuttered, being caught and he stifled another blushed grin, looking back to the table.
Allister asked the two men a question and he sighed deeply again. He hadn't seen Desolation in nearly twenty-three hours and fifteen minutes. He longed to be behind the chest plate; hungered to push, full speed into the heavens. Scratching onto the paper again, Mute looked up between chocolate strands to Allister before spinning the paper around for him to read,
[center:mgv5npfi][pre:mgv5npfi]Seen a small, slender unit? Looks built for speed.
With a wild, liquid-primal paint job across the surface?
Almost looks like jelly?
That's Desolation; my first love.[/pre:mgv5npfi][/center:mgv5npfi]
Mute hissed softly again, with a content chuckle stuck in his throat. He would look past the men to the door, wondering now that the Unit Commander was more than three minutes late....
"That much metal, man? It'd be like kissing a chain-link fence."
He responded to his comrade as he declared his favorite. He turned his gaze over to the other man, glad that they three of them had hit it off so well, so quickly. Awkward meetings were always weird and well, awkward and added unneeded tension to their already stressful job.
"Renana? I guess that works. Rebekah was sexier though." Obviously, he was picky about his partner's names. "Think she'll get mad if I call her Rebekah?" He offered the question to his two partners before grabbing the pad and sliding it towards him, pulling a pen from the insides of his coat to scribble something down on the yellow-tinted tablet before turning to look up at the guys.
"I pilot Haven. The assault machina with the dual charged particle cannons on the back. Can't miss it, I promise." His attention turned back to the pad, gently pulling the sheet of paper off the tablet and sliding it back to his un-speaking companion. The paper was creased and folded in neat, perfect lines, despite his mind being distracted by thoughts of his beautiful machina.
"A quadruped, really?" He turned his attention to the pilot, hoisting the paper airplane that he had created and flinging it blindly through the air. It didn't deviate from course though, sailing through the wind casually towards the girl, Renana. He saw out of the corner of his eye, her hand reach up to grab it, unfolding the paper and reading the note. His lip curled upwards in a smirk as he noticed the flush to her cheeks and then her head nodding.
"Sweet."
e v e r m o r e
As the three laughed and joked around like they had been friends for the better part of childhood on, a piercing, snap-tapping came into the general atmosphere and all of the hall seemed to quiet down as a figure stood tall in the doorway with a full uniform attire and beady brown eyes. Unkempt eyebrows seemed to bush over his oculars, making them look smaller and more beady than usual and he smirked slightly upon seeing the room quiet.
To this man, Mute touched Rein's arm to get his attention before lifting a chin -- doing as the Asians do -- and pointing with his lips to the man who seemed important. Through sepia strands, Mute instantly judged this man to be someone of higher rank then them all and his superiority seemed to bristle on end, from his immaculate dress to his spit-shined boots. Mute would grin to the man's mirror-like boots and he thought of the paint-on paste that they sold in most of the BX's on any base. A faker.
The piercing tapping noises started up once again, which caused Mute to wince with each step of the man's arrogant persona. His boots were soled in a vibrant, chrome-polished steel that could be seen gleaming with each regal step as he approached the only group of men who seemed like they were down-dressed and he paused to salute the men.
Mute threw up a half-assed salute and nodded to the figure and he examined the three before clearing his throat. The entire cafeteria seemed to be silent, listening to what he had to say next. "You three must be the new Machina crew, hnm? I have received word from Officer Conrad that he got a little tied up along the way and you will be meeting him in the hanger instead of the common's cafe. Please, gentlemen -- follow me."
Their three ladies, as well as the cafeteria watched as the man spun on heel, and then marched off at a moderate pace, leaving Mute to snatch up his pad of paper and then tuck it away into his eggshell jacket before grappling Rein and Allister by the shoulders, to help them up before spinning off in a 'mock impression' of this goose-stepping fool-of-an-officer. He smiled broadly, looking to Rebekah, who blushed, yet deep green eyes remained on his own gaze ...
... right until he ran into another table, full of trainees.
Better late than never right? Right... or something very very close to being right. Conrad took corners; quick lefts and rights. More lefts and more rights. The quick turns, and constant pivoting within foyers that were all to similar to the next grew heavy on his heart. "Twenty minutes late! Sehvin is going to kill me."
Several signs passed him by, and though blurred, he knew they indicated the dormitory cafe being around the corner or the next anyways.
Entering the cafe, the overcoat wearing alchemist thumbed through the manilla folder he held so tight that the folder itself began to bend, wrinkle, and fold. He looked at the resumes of the new CTU's.
Conrad cleared his throat. "Excuse me gentlemen." The distance continued to subtract between he and the group until four or five feet was the only thing seperating them.
"If you will, follow me. We haven't much time to talk. I must apologize. I'm terribly late and we got to make it to the hangar in the next.... five minutes."
The resumes showed each and every photo of the CTU's standing before him today. Shoving the files in any which order, back into the manilla folder, pivoted on the heel of his left, and began his power walk back in the direction from which he came. "We must move with haste."
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