Difference between revisions of "2046-11-11 Alternate Fires"

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|icons=VeVega.jpg, IrIrene.jpg, KdKade1.jpg,
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{{Add Category|October 2016 Logs}}
{{Add Category|November 2016 Logs}}
|roomdesc=The small camp is tucked into the shadow of Utah's mountains about 20 miles north of the ruins of Wendover, with the seemingly endless expanse of its salt flats stretching out in the distance to the east. It's a different sort of desolate from the abandoned green wilderness of more fertile states. Here, everything feels dead and barren: truly the end of the world. Or /a/ world, at least.
|roomdesc=The small camp is tucked into the shadow of Utah's mountains about 20 miles north of the ruins of Wendover, with the seemingly endless expanse of its salt flats stretching out in the distance to the east. It's a different sort of desolate from the abandoned green wilderness of more fertile states. Here, everything feels dead and barren: truly the end of the world. Or /a/ world, at least.

Latest revision as of 00:53, 13 November 2016

2046-11-11 Alternate Fires
Date Posted 2016/11/11
Location Camp - Necro-Utah
Participants Vega, Kade, Irene
Summary A universe away, a group of mutants gathers just west of the Salt Flats of Utah.
Plot Necrogenesis
VeVega.jpg IrIrene.jpg KdKade1.jpg
The small camp is tucked into the shadow of Utah's mountains about 20 miles north of the ruins of Wendover, with the seemingly endless expanse of its salt flats stretching out in the distance to the east. It's a different sort of desolate from the abandoned green wilderness of more fertile states. Here, everything feels dead and barren: truly the end of the world. Or /a/ world, at least. The weather is here moderate during the day dipping toward freezing at night. The camp is largely a series of tents clustered around a central campfire, with Dr. Essex's looming RV positioned to block the entrance to their careful huddle.

It is a fall night. The weather is cool and fair.

The night seems never ending as the wind whispers over the flats, carrying the sting of salt in the air when it blows just right. There is more to the heavens than the earth as the stars glimmer over head. They are a far more brilliant light that the blue-orange haze of the fire, burning hot and radiant on a mix of fuels. It spreads purple shadows out around it in a long, distorted crown, leaving Vega's stretching almost to the circle of tents.

Vega is a slight and wiry figure amid that iridescent circle, legs folded akimbo atop a stool and her coat brushing against the ground beneath her. Her clothes are a mix of dark tones and muddied pales, bleached by the barren earth, and make her hair seem all the darker as it falls down her back in a long tail. There is a short burst of electricity that erupts from her finger tips, cast blue and sizzling, as she fiddles with a bit of machinery in her hands before pulling her goggles back from her hawkish features. A spray of freckles sits across her nose, tilted up towards the sky as she glances up at it.

A man with light eyes and dark skin roams the camp with an easy, prowling gait. Chin slightly arched as he takes in the place. He's wearing a tank top that exposes the elaborate flame tattoos on his arms and neck, and sturdy cargo pants and boots. His strolling, so casual given the environment, takes him toward the burst of electricity. He pauses to just watch Vega, expression cool and studying, and on the edge of a smirk.

Dark eyes lift towards the sky, but fall at the sound of footsteps in a sharp motion that doesn't match the casual lean of Vega's body. Her age is hard to guess, especially half sunken into shadows. She tips her head, meeting the man's studying gaze with a short look and a lift of her brows. Flicking her fingers, sparks erupt from them and scatter into the air. "Evenin'."

The smile the man gives Vega comes easily to his clean-shaven face, and doesn't quite touch those eyes. He looks somewhere in his thirties, though placing it exactly is likewise difficult. He's unmarked by many smile and laugh lines, but there's a hardness to him that's anything but young. Albeit that last is hardly unusual. "Evening." He prowls closer to her sparks, taking in her work. What he can make of it.

It is a smile Vega doesn't return in kind, instead answering with a slight tip of her head as her lashes fan against her cheeks. Her dark eyes don't leave him as he prowls closer, watching him through a fringe of lashes. It might be flirtatious or it might bone bred caution or it might be a combination of both. The spark lines of metal in her lap compose a small object frame with the lines of a hand to it. "See something?" She wonders as he prowls. He is never left wholly behind her. "You here for it all?"

"It all." It's repeated with something on the verge of a laugh, which never quite materializes as one. The man nods, though. "Yes. I guess I am, at that." His eyes trace up and down her, part open caution and curiosity, part a sort of flirtation in kind. "It's supposed to be a hell of a show. Wouldn't want to miss my curtain call. You?"

"All, hey?" Brows lifting, Vega's dark eyes widen with a hint of amusement as the edge of humor settles on her tongue. "That's a hell of a mutation if so." It's just a hint. "Doesn't match the tattoos though." A pity, her words seem to suggest as she scans his figure and his lack of a jacket against the chill of the night. Snorting, her mouth edges in a smirk. "I think we're going to be the show. Open, close, and ending. I prefer to stay out of the spotlight... be glad to see the deed down. That stuff is nasty." Pressing a finger to the 'hand' in her lap, a spark of electricity errupts again and its fingers twitch.

In response to the bit about his mutation, the man turns his palms upwards and summons a shot of flames from each hand. Like twin blow-torches. "This more fitting?" His smile widens and he inhales, with pure pleasure of the heat surrounding him. "I've never shied from the spotlight. They call me Blaze. You got a name?"

"Fitting for a tool," comes a voice, and with it a person, stepping out of the shadows. The bloom of light reveals the speaker to be an Asian woman with a strong-looking figure, her dark hair braided back away from a face chiseled in hard planes and angles, age hard to determine. She's outfitted in a weathered jacket and pants that do not hide the significantly higher-tech armor she wears, nor all of the weaponry on her person--though it probably hides some of it.

As the flame bursts from the man's hands, Vega's dark eyes reflect the shimmering light back, watching his display with interest. Once the brilliant lights die down, her mouth quirks in a hint of a smile. "It matches the ink better," she decides after a moment as if she has really has to consider it. Opening her mouth to answer Blaze, she pauses as a voice comes out of the darkness, bowing her head respectfully as the older woman steps into the light. "You don't think it suits?" She wonders, head cocked sharply. After a moment, she remembers to answer. "Vega." Nothing fancy here.

Blaze tenses. One torch goes out, though one hand stays lit with flame. Perhaps it's comfortable, in the cool night air. "I'm nobody's tool." The response is quick and a touch defensive. He looks the Asian woman up and down. Taking stock of her. Perhaps his gaze lingers in places longer than strictly necessary for an assessment. "What're you?" To Vega he adds, "Pleasure."

"Didn't say that," Irene answers Vega, though she doesn't sound impressed either. Who knows if she even knows how to be impressed. Dark eyes turn with a deliberate slowness back to Blaze and she just stares at him for a moment. "Sure," she says, not sounding like she much believes him in response to his defensiveness. She rests a hand on a cocked hip in a gesture that looks like it should be paired with a raise brow, but isn't. "Making me sound like a thing too." It's not an answer.

"Only in implication," Vega counters easily, blowing a strand of hair back from her eyes. Her hair is not as neat as Irene's braid, catching as the wind cause the flames to dance in place. Dropping her oversized boots down onto the ground with a puff of sand, she cracks a smile for the first time. "Awesome." As if that one word can sum up the other woman, fingers glowing blue briefly. "Is it? Good."

"We're all things of some sort," Blaze replies to Irene. "I meant. What is your name? And what's your power. I've shown you mine. Only fair you show me yours. Besides, I'm presume we're all here for the same reason." His light eyes trace back to Vega. "What're you working on?"

Irene neither confirms nor denies anything said by implication. There is a slight twitch of one corner of her lip that's either a smile or a frown at Vega's description. For a moment she all-but ignores Blaze. "I suppose you can call me Siong." If she has a pretentious mutant name, she doesn't share it. Among other things. "Who said anything was fair?"

"Technically none of us are things," Vega counters easily, metallic gloved hands glinting as she presses her palms together. There is humor in her eyes that doesn't touch her lips as she leans forward to rest her elbows against her knees. "Except those parts of us that are." Her head naturally tips towards Irene at that hint of expression, seemingly pleased before she looks back at Blaze. "Should have negotiated that first. Mine isn't impressive," she supplies briefly. She lifts up what she is working on. "It's a hand." The fingers wiggle in a short wave.

"Siong. Charmed." Blaze leaves his name at /just/ the mutant one, for now. "Nothing's fair, but my daddy did believe in karma, and I plan to visit some in the coming days." Vega's response just makes him laugh. "There you go." His fingers spark again, to give Vega a little fire wave in return.

"Good for you," Irene replies to Blaze, not sounding particularly concerned about karma one way or the other. Vega gets a somewhat flat look, but Blaze gets more of it.

"Karma is a dangerous principle. It suggests that things can be balanced." It is a hand. The fingers fold down into the palm as Vega brings it to her lap, one of them getting stuck upward. Cursing softly in Mandarian, she gives the circuits a bit of a zap, and blinks away stars from her eyes.

"Perhaps they can. Sometimes the price of weighting the scales properly is just higher than folks would like to pay," Blaze replies. He eyes both women, then shifts his posture. "Anyhow. I'll leave you to it. And see you on the barricades." Hard to tell if that's figurative or literal. Both, maybe.

There is a stillness to Irene's figure that is suggestive not of a thing at rest, but a compressed spring ready to be released. She stands like a guard near Vega, alert to their surroundings. "I doubt that," she says, although without specifying what exactly she doubts about Blaze's words. "Hm," is all he gets as a goodbye.

In a slant of shadow, Vega's mouth hooks in a shape of unspoken disagreement, momentarily too distracted by fixing her hand. "Everything is higher than we'd like to pay," she murmurs, before glancing up at him as he goes to level. "We might." She offers in farewell. They might. Her posture shifts naturally towards Irene, dark eyes flicking cautiously around the camp. "All well?"

Blaze lets out a low "Mmmm" at Vega and Irene both. Then, with a smile, off he goes.

Irene does not smile. She watches Blaze go, turning to look at Vega again only when he's well out of sight. "{As well as anything can be,}" she answers in Chinese, not sounding optimistic. "{Anyone else bother you?}"

"{That man is a flirt,}" Vega murmurs under her breath, flipping over the project in her hands carelessly. Tilting her head up, she flashes Irene a slow smile. "{It will be better once this task is done.}" Shaking her head, she glances back at the RV parked just past camp. "{No, but I desperately want a tour of what's in there. How about you?}"

Irene mutters a response that roughly translates to, "{That man is a douche.}" She shakes her head and looks down at what Vega is working on, flexing her own armored hand speculatively. She can only nod her head, though, unable to tell how much progress is yet needed. Her black eyes swivel to look at the RV thoughtfully. "{My impression is that I would not understand a tour.}"

Snorting with laughter, Vega ducks her head at Irene's response. "{But so consistent with his theme,}" she says quietly with false innocence. "{Not this.}" The clarification is soft, but meaningful. She looks down at her own hands and flexes the damaged tissue beneath metal. "{I want to know how he plans to do it. Nullify it.}" Her brows furrow thoughtfully. "{Chemistry providing what metal cannot.}"

"{Gods forbid anyone not know he can start fires for a second,}" Irene says of Blaze with a dismissive snort. She falls quiet for a moment, more serious and genuinely thoughtful. "{Yes,}" she agrees to Vega's clarification. Better when all of this is done. "{I don't know. Bodies are...strange.}" What is a science class?

"[He's hot.}" Her words are delivered so dryly that it is difficult to tell if it is a joke or not. Some of that may be truth. Vega balances the hand on her knee as she watches the RV from a distance with interest. "{I suppose... most of them seem like machines. But blood. Disease. I can't fix it.}"

Irene eyes Vega for a long moment in silence, maybe trying to determine if that's a joke or not. She doesn't laugh. "{Not as much as he thinks,}" says the immune. The RV is regarded with some amount of interest, but also suspicion. Trust is a commodity high in value and not given easily. "{So far no one can.}"

A frown draws Vega's mouth as she watches the RV for a moment longer before she looks back up at Irene. "{You think it's true? What they say it will do?}" A hand lifts to brush a lock of dark hair back from her face. "{Not that it matters. Another human stronghold gone the better. The factory may be of worth.}"

"{I think they believe it is true.}" Not the same thing. Irene doesn't appear to share that belief, but she's cynical, not hopeful. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "{This one in particular,}" she says. "{This will be the end of it.}" Her confidence is not without statistics to back it.

Not the same thing, but close. Picking up her spare hand from the dirt, Vega hops to her feet and pivots to face Irene. "{Then it will be done,}" she says simply, pragmatically. Then this will be done.

"It will," Irene agrees, looking directly at Vega. There is no joy in her expression, no fervor for violence, just a steady determination with a spark of readiness in her dark eyes. "We will get it done." As they have before.

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