subtleserenity (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thechanged2013-09-25 10:48 pm
subtleserenity) wrote in thechanged2013-09-25 10:48 pm
Entry tags:
The Day the Music Died | Day 11 Evening
[Scenario A - Only one person, please!]
The black flowers in the garden had been strange, and they left her feeling on edge. Incredibly on edge. About to break something on edge. Brimstone balls her hands into fists as she stalks through the house looking for Vinyl. She hasn't seen him since they'd woken from the vines, and that worries her. It's also frustrating. She had wanted to tell him what had happened to Huo with the potions and herbs from the secret room. He should know. He would want to know. But where is he?
She starts in the lounge, a sensible place - there's no music coming from it - and then begins to scour the rest of the house, asking anyone she passes - snarling at them, really - if they've seen a man with red wire hair. No. No. The answer unanimously is no. When she returns to the lounge, Brimstone stalks over to the record player.
"You gone back to sleep, Vinyl?" she asks, voice quiet, deadly. She picks out a record and sets it on the player, tries to turn it on, and gets nothing. She tries to turn it manually for the needle to read the record. Nothing. Not a sound. The music is dead. She draws in a sharp breath, ripping the record off the base and chucking it at the wall. It shatters.
In a fit of pique she can't explain, Brimstone grabs record after record, teeth bared. She looks for anyone nearby and aims the next disc at their head. Practicing her aim with improvised weapons couldn't hurt. Watching them bleed would be satisfying, as well.
[Scenario B - Open!]
She's on the prowl again, through the gardens looking for those gorram flowers, but there are blooms everywhere now. A riot of color that just seems to incense her. The branches from some of the red and gray flowers catches on her holster and she swipes at it the plants to free herself. A moment later, an overwhelming sense of affection for her allies here overwhelms her. On its heels comes the sense that they're in danger. Of course they are. They're in a house that's tried to put them all back to sleep. That likely wants them all dead. Mason. He's the real enemy, but there are some who would side with him. Some who should be put down.
Brimstone pulls her gun from her holster and goes in search of friends and enemies alike. She will not tolerate something happening to them, and she knows it's coming.
[B.1]
Her first instinct on encountering a friendly face is to grab them and start herding them toward her base in the library. "Ain't safe roamin' the halls. Let's go." She can guard them there. And they'll damn well stay there.
[B.2]
Unfriendly faces are met with bristling hostility. She levels her rifle at them. "Gimme one good reason not to put you down."
[B.3]
Unfamiliar faces are also met with verbal hostility and a raised gun. "You on the Keeper's side?"
The black flowers in the garden had been strange, and they left her feeling on edge. Incredibly on edge. About to break something on edge. Brimstone balls her hands into fists as she stalks through the house looking for Vinyl. She hasn't seen him since they'd woken from the vines, and that worries her. It's also frustrating. She had wanted to tell him what had happened to Huo with the potions and herbs from the secret room. He should know. He would want to know. But where is he?
She starts in the lounge, a sensible place - there's no music coming from it - and then begins to scour the rest of the house, asking anyone she passes - snarling at them, really - if they've seen a man with red wire hair. No. No. The answer unanimously is no. When she returns to the lounge, Brimstone stalks over to the record player.
"You gone back to sleep, Vinyl?" she asks, voice quiet, deadly. She picks out a record and sets it on the player, tries to turn it on, and gets nothing. She tries to turn it manually for the needle to read the record. Nothing. Not a sound. The music is dead. She draws in a sharp breath, ripping the record off the base and chucking it at the wall. It shatters.
In a fit of pique she can't explain, Brimstone grabs record after record, teeth bared. She looks for anyone nearby and aims the next disc at their head. Practicing her aim with improvised weapons couldn't hurt. Watching them bleed would be satisfying, as well.
[Scenario B - Open!]
She's on the prowl again, through the gardens looking for those gorram flowers, but there are blooms everywhere now. A riot of color that just seems to incense her. The branches from some of the red and gray flowers catches on her holster and she swipes at it the plants to free herself. A moment later, an overwhelming sense of affection for her allies here overwhelms her. On its heels comes the sense that they're in danger. Of course they are. They're in a house that's tried to put them all back to sleep. That likely wants them all dead. Mason. He's the real enemy, but there are some who would side with him. Some who should be put down.
Brimstone pulls her gun from her holster and goes in search of friends and enemies alike. She will not tolerate something happening to them, and she knows it's coming.
[B.1]
Her first instinct on encountering a friendly face is to grab them and start herding them toward her base in the library. "Ain't safe roamin' the halls. Let's go." She can guard them there. And they'll damn well stay there.
[B.2]
Unfriendly faces are met with bristling hostility. She levels her rifle at them. "Gimme one good reason not to put you down."
[B.3]
Unfamiliar faces are also met with verbal hostility and a raised gun. "You on the Keeper's side?"
no subject
"You got any ideas?" It's more of a challenge than an honest question.
no subject
"And I don't know, I haven't thought about another hiding place. We could put it up high, like you said...or mix it up with some other books."
A huff, and another look around, as well as a couple steps down the bookshelf. He's not leaving, though.
"Or in something?"
I am sorry. If this doesn't work, I can totally edit!
Without even thinking of the implications of crushing his physical self, the rifle marches over to the shelf, sets the journal down, tips the shelf up with no small effort, and pushes the journal under it with her foot. Then she lets the shelf thud back down. There that would do for the moment.
Brimstone turns back to the paper man with a confident smirk.
1/2
2/2
"W-wait what...what are you doing? Not under there, I'll get all dust--oof"
He feels the force of the shelf coming down, and while it doesn't damage his physical self much aside from being somewhat flatter, it knocks the breath out of him. Good thing he wasn't hardcover, or else he probably wouldn't be standing.
"...You could've told me you were going to do that!"
no subject
Brimstone starts to walk away, then turns to the paper man once more. "You find somewhere safe to be, too."