Avvercus

The Marine caught his companion gently, scanning her face for a moment. She was breathing, just passed out from their adventures and the sudden blood loss. His blue gaze shifted to the 'nurse'. "About that room." Perhaps he was aware of how atypical his tastes were, or perhaps he thought them too good for guests, but Fizzroy's guest room was thankfully not like the rest of his home. Simple white walls dotted with equally simple paintings of various locations in Genesaris, two beds, two large comfy armchairs set before a fireplace that was currently empty, and a small bookshelf filled with tomes Hudson couldn't read completed the generously large living space. Hudson had been led here without any fuss, and left to watch over his sleeping savior. He sat on the bedside, watching her tiny chest rise and studying her peaceful face. A lot had happened to him in a relatively short amount of time. Truth be told he'd known this woman less than a day, but felt like he'd been at her side for so much longer. He owed her his life, and more. He gingerly brushed a stray hair out of her face, thinking about how lucky he was to meet Rin. She was beautiful, patient, empathetic, kind. He'd get her home, one way or another. Home to earth. He gave her sleeping form a small smile before standing and moving to his own bed. Despite being one of the most physically impressive specimens one could find on his home world, he had his limits. He hit the bed like a rock, almost immediately passing out before he could get comfortable. Neither of them heard the knock. But Hudson certainly felt the stabbing feeling in his side, jolting him awake and sending him into a defensive panic. He'd grabbed whatever was jabbing him and immediately settled into a combat stance at the side of the bed after rolling off of it. As the world came into focus, he found himself staring through the dark room at the red headed main, who had poked him with his rifle. "It is time, Master Hudson. I've brought your things, thoroughly washed. Take them and follow me, if you please," she handed the weapon over, which was thankfully not loaded, and the rest of his gear, now somehow free of bloodstains, if still riddled with bullet holes. A shudder ran the man's spine as he hugged his weapon. You never truly get used to having a gun pointed at you. He had no idea what the maid said, but assumed he'd have time to gear up before leaving. He opted to replace his slippers with boots and forgo wearing his flak jacket. It was useless now that the plates had been shattered anyway. He took the harness that had his pistol, ammo, and K-BAR attached and donned that before slinging his M-16 and marched out of the room, throwing Rin one last glance before the door shut. Fizzroy was certainly dressed for a party. Pink robes with a ridiculously flared collar, golden mascara, eye liner, and lipstick certainly felt like something he would wear. A black tattoo made of strange symbols in a circle had appeared on his throat. Fizzroy said something Hudson couldn't comprehend and the maid was suddenly going for his neck. He tensed up as she took a quill and drew something on his throat that he could not see, but he guessed it was probably the same thing Fizzroy had drawn on him. No sooner had the maid stepped away than Hudson found himself able to understand Fizzroy's words. "Loooooovely, you understand me now, yes yes?" "...I do. I need information. Who, what, when, and where about this... party of yours. Who do I need to know about that is a threat. What will they be trying to harm you with. When will we be returning. Where are we going exactly." Hudson replied in a serious tone, shifting into duty mode. "Now now, beefcake. Where's the fun if I spoil everything for you? All~you~need~to~know is that you need to keep my pretty face and clothing in one piece, nothing more. Now, shall we?" Fizzroy replied in that sing-song manner he was partial to and guard towards the mansion entrance. Oh fuck... I did not get enough sleep to deal with this shit.

Clink It pealed across the comfortable, bland, and quiet restaurant, loud and distinct. A summoning bell for the nervous waitress, the sound of ice on glass. She didn't like those eyes, yellow like a wolf's and just as predatory as they followed her shuffled approach. This customer's expression was neutral, framed by the inky curtain that was her hair, giving away neither joy nor displeasure. Something about that gaze made the waitress feel like she was being judged, compared to something lowly and small, like a worm turning through dirt. Her hands did their best to remain steady, but the shaking clipboard they grasped juxtaposed her forced smile. "Yes, ma'am... er, I mean, my lady?" She corrected herself. She'd been instructed to address the small woman with no less of a formality by the 'lady' herself. She had a terrible feeling about what was to come. The poor table waiter had no idea how right she was. "Your best." A pause. Illisandra's eyes went half lidded, looking up at the meek server girl with the slightest hint of disdain in the curve of her lips. "I instructed you to bring me your best drink. I will say it once more, and only once more. Bring me your best drink," her voice, noble, commanding, and saturated with dissatisfaction, was low, almost a whisper. The hand which held the glass of iced rum, soft and adorned with amethyst painted nails, lazily tossed the drink. The sound of shattering glass was sharp, punctuated by a glare just as sharp that bored into the waitress' eyes. "Y-y-y..." the yammering of a dog that knew only how to whimper, and not properly obey. It was offensive to her ears. "Go!" she barked, no longer willing to suffer the noise. The waitress turned and ran, not wanting to be stared at like that anymore. She'd brought their most expensive rum... now what was she to do? Illisandra tapped the table top with a series of clicks, growing impatient. Her food was late, and her drink was unsatisfactory. An urge to kick her footstool, the orc slave she had on hands and knees beneath the table and thankfully out of her sight, gripped her. However, the noblewoman of house Ravenstone resisted the temptation. It would hike her scant black sundress up and give the cretins that worked here a view of something they simply weren't worthy of beholding. The contact she was to meet in this town had better be worth the peasant's treatment she'd endured thus far, or she would make sure to turn the place into an economical ghost town in the coming months... @King

If you're still looking for a writing partner of sorts, I've recently decided to return to writing myself. We could shake the rust off together, if you'd like.

I've been unfortunately unemployed despite having a college certificate for over two years now, but I'll share details about my previous job. Job Title: United States Marine Description: "Every Marine is a Rifleman" is an actual true statement, but a misleading one. Marines are all trained as Rifleman and can perform those duties at a basic level, but there are hundreds of different occupations within the Marine corps. I myself was a 2847, Telephone Systems and Personal Computer Repairman. A fancy way to say I set up and fixed PCs and a variety of telephone equipment. It was a secret security job that often involved handling equipment containing sensitive information. Experience/Certs/Degrees for entry level: Highschool diploma/GED, moderate level of physical fitness, above average mental/emotional fortitude, patience and ability to swallow your pride. Best method for members to contact you with questions: Discord, tag is on my profile.