[Caitlyn strides up to the wall then, standing (with a healthy regard for personal space) to face it. Mimed-pin still in left hand, she raises her right to stick something on the wall, and “pins” it in place.
Explosives. [Among other aggravations. Caitlyn isn’t quite on the same page—Piltover, to her knowledge, harbors no mages—but she assumes the girl’s specialty is made clear regardless.]
[The vision itself is so overwhelming that Oda nearly fails to act. Flawless is like a sixth sense, picking up on everything from tripping on the sidewalk to his own death - or this.
[It's what happens to Caitlyn when that blast detonates that gets him to move. They have five seconds, maybe six. It's more than enough time for him to tackle her to the ground - not just down, but as far away to the side as he can possibly launch them.]
[She barely has time to sputter before the room drowns in red. There’s a struggle from beneath Oda; unclear if Caitlyn is trying to shove him off or twist to shield him herself.
[It hits. It doesn't matter.
[It ought to kill them. It doesn’t. All that’s left is rubble; broken thrones, a shattered roundtable. Before the world has stopped spinning Caitlyn scrambles to her feet, as though staying down isn’t physically permissible; Oda is shoved aside with force if necessary. But in a blind reach for her gun she grabs his arm, hauling him roughly up instead.
[She doesn’t face him. Her eyes are fixed on one chair, unoccupied.
[Oda doesn't lag, and Caitlyn doesn't have to do much tugging. He gets to his feet, and immediately, his pistols are in his hands. There's nowhere to aim but right in front of him. He puts his back to Caitlyn's, and does just that.]
Game's over, I guess.
[Now, it's time to start asking just what the hell is going on.]
[Caitlyn doesn’t keep her back to Oda’s—jerks away, actually, fixating on his pistols. Her own gun is absent.
[She’s incensed. Wide eyes, trembling breath through a tight jaw, fingers wringing tight into gloved palms—the needles on her neck are anger. That’s what it is. It only faintly occurs that “a skill user” is, without context, oddly phrased.]
Our target [still snarling, louder now,] is her. [Sparks in the periphery gleam. Nothing foreboding—just smoldering entropy.]
the worst (if I'm wrong about flawless...then...lmk...[worryfrog])
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pantheraliam) wrote2030-03-12 03:03 pm
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[Caitlyn watches him with slightly narrowed eyes, the connection striking once his palms hit the wall. Ah—shoulders down.
[In response she lifts her left thumb and index finger, pinched close together.] Pin. [Small nod; ‘you understand.’
[She keeps the imagined sliver in hand. Trap, corner—they’re still playing.] Objective.
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[He mimes pressing it into the wall as if there were a map hanging there - target, locate, pin--]
Point.
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[She nods. He gets it…
[Caitlyn strides up to the wall then, standing (with a healthy regard for personal space) to face it. Mimed-pin still in left hand, she raises her right to stick something on the wall, and “pins” it in place.
[Back to the man.] Information.
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[Nods again.] Individual.
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[She points her eyes briefly towards the wall as though a face might appear. (It won’t. Unless?)]
Terrorist. [Disdainful.]
is this lgbt (let's limboverse it up in this BITCHHHHHHH)
[Alright. They'll just...continue playing and see what comes of that.]
Cop.
[He raises his eyebrows toward her - just a simple question, officer.]
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[It flashes in the periphery, the splash of blue. Caitlyn doesn’t flinch, but does briefly check the man’s face and back, to be sure.
[Far as she can tell, he saw nothing. Back where they started....
[Paranoia dismissed with a blink. But she keeps an eye on the wall—and resumes the damn game.
[In a tone just shy of “um, actually”:] Enforcer. [Because in vague linguistics-handwave memeland, “cop” is translatable but not correct.]
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[He could be wrong.
[But she seems like a cop.
[Back to the topic at hand - the blank-but-proverbially-covered wall.]
Dangerous?
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[She does wonder why he asked. The wall is of greater concern.
[Caitlyn shakes her head, but her frown is set as she searches, sidelong, for anything amiss. Danger is inescapable. It only multiplies…
[But spying nothing, her eyes flick to where the face was.]
Clever. [This is an insult. It’s not directed at him.]
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Ability?
[That is to say, an ability-user. He wonders if Caitlyn will pick up what he's putting down...]
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Explosives. [Among other aggravations. Caitlyn isn’t quite on the same page—Piltover, to her knowledge, harbors no mages—but she assumes the girl’s specialty is made clear regardless.]
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[He could easily just be thinking. He feels the fingers on his hand slowly curl in.]
Affiliation?
icon is just for ~flavor~
[There’s a face who should come to mind, one eye gleaming. But the one that does is—
[Not anyone she can entertain. If Oda’s watching (and Caitlyn isn’t, for the beat, watching him), he might catch her teeth clench.
[She shuts her eyes and huffs. Back on target:]
Herself.
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[Terrorists usually have one.]
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[Would that she knew! “Violence”? Stupid, obviously. Chaos—naturally. The hesitation is telling enough, but for the moment Caitlyn lands on] Riot.
[Like the game?]
jsldkfjsdfj not riot...
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[Everyone.
[Society, peace, unity, hope… all empty words, hollow values without cause. Caitlyn’s had enough of it.
[What has Jinx done, but ruin…]
Family. [All the weight it carries.
[The wall shimmers like glass.]
2/2 surprise! get Flawless’d
[It will appear in seconds: Scarlet sky. Blood moon above, rooflines below; and, between it all, a streak of bright, damning blue.
[Between the bars of a decorated windowpane, a bullet-head shark grins. Strikes. Shatters—
[Time’s up.]
[Caitlyn will witness this with the wide eyes of a cornered animal. She won’t move before the blast.]
HEHE
[It's what happens to Caitlyn when that blast detonates that gets him to move. They have five seconds, maybe six. It's more than enough time for him to tackle her to the ground - not just down, but as far away to the side as he can possibly launch them.]
Stay down!
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[She barely has time to sputter before the room drowns in red. There’s a struggle from beneath Oda; unclear if Caitlyn is trying to shove him off or twist to shield him herself.
[It hits. It doesn't matter.
[It ought to kill them. It doesn’t. All that’s left is rubble; broken thrones, a shattered roundtable. Before the world has stopped spinning Caitlyn scrambles to her feet, as though staying down isn’t physically permissible; Oda is shoved aside with force if necessary. But in a blind reach for her gun she grabs his arm, hauling him roughly up instead.
[She doesn’t face him. Her eyes are fixed on one chair, unoccupied.
[No one else is here.]
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Game's over, I guess.
[Now, it's time to start asking just what the hell is going on.]
It must be a skill user doing this. Any idea who?
curse 15 icons
Jinx.
[Caitlyn doesn’t keep her back to Oda’s—jerks away, actually, fixating on his pistols. Her own gun is absent.
[She’s incensed. Wide eyes, trembling breath through a tight jaw, fingers wringing tight into gloved palms—the needles on her neck are anger. That’s what it is. It only faintly occurs that “a skill user” is, without context, oddly phrased.]
Our target [still snarling, louder now,] is her. [Sparks in the periphery gleam. Nothing foreboding—just smoldering entropy.]
the worst (if I'm wrong about flawless...then...lmk...[worryfrog])
[His voice isn't commanding - isn't even harsh. He says it like someone's gotten a little too loud at the dinner table.
[And then he passes her a gun.
[Flawless doesn't foresee her shooting him.]
You know how to use one, right?
ah. the part where I pretend I know how guns work
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cw drugs…? vaguely.
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