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])
[She does calm down—answers by snatching the gun (okay, maybe a millisecond or two before he’s fully offered it), checks the magazine, aims it out the sky where the wall’s supposed to be, just to check. The man’s pistol is more advanced than anything she's used to holding, certainly not the rifle she’d like to have nestled against her shoulder, but a firearm is a firearm. Caitlyn’s familiar.
[Sure. He won't hesitate - won't kill her, either, whoever she is, but he won't hesitate. Caitlyn seems to have come to some conclusion, or at least a decision; Oda isn't sure what it is.]
Shimmer. [With a capital “S.” The rocket in the rubble demonstrates, pulsing purple through metallic veins. Caitlyn aims—but when it doesn’t move (and it won’t, ever again), she continues.]
[Finally, Caitlyn’s attention leaves broken surroundings that aren’t moving; refocuses on the speaker. She does look mildly annoyed by the interruption.
She wasn’t born with them. [Piltover doesn’t (knowingly!) house mages.] But she doesn’t work alone.
[There are two assumptions here, one more well-founded than the other. Caitlyn regards both with the same weight. But with no sign of the monster or any stray blues in the area (a clear coast that Flawless would confirm), she nods towards the large doors in the back—a silent invitation to move elsewhere. Talking here has never appealed to Caitlyn.]
[The signal is taken, easily agreed upon. Oda wants nothing but to work together. They start moving back toward those doors, his gun poised low at his side.]
[Ah. Well, he can't blame her if she's really never heard of skill users, but he also can't imagine anyone where he comes from not knowing about them. He shakes his head.]
You're thinking too narrow. Anyone can be born with one of these abilities. It's only a small percentage of the population, but they definitely aren't all working together.
[There's one beat of quiet as they pass through a doorway.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pantheraliam) wrote2030-03-12 03:03 pm
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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!
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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
[She does calm down—answers by snatching the gun (okay, maybe a millisecond or two before he’s fully offered it), checks the magazine, aims it out the sky where the wall’s supposed to be, just to check. The man’s pistol is more advanced than anything she's used to holding, certainly not the rifle she’d like to have nestled against her shoulder, but a firearm is a firearm. Caitlyn’s familiar.
[Steady breath out.]
She’s fast. Inhumanly so.
Don’t hesitate.
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What do you know about her ability?
cw drugs…? vaguely.
Shimmer. [With a capital “S.” The rocket in the rubble demonstrates, pulsing purple through metallic veins. Caitlyn aims—but when it doesn’t move (and it won’t, ever again), she continues.]
Just a shot. It—does things to people, corrupts.
[It saved her.]
She shouldn’t be alive.
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Some kind of drug allowed her to bring us here?
You know what I mean when I say "skill user," don't you?
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[Finally, Caitlyn’s attention leaves broken surroundings that aren’t moving; refocuses on the speaker. She does look mildly annoyed by the interruption.
[But she’ll let him elaborate. The answer is no.]
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Humans with special abilities. You might think of them like superpowers.
Does the person you're talking about fit that description? If not, we've got more than just her to worry about.
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She wasn’t born with them. [Piltover doesn’t (knowingly!) house mages.] But she doesn’t work alone.
[There are two assumptions here, one more well-founded than the other. Caitlyn regards both with the same weight. But with no sign of the monster or any stray blues in the area (a clear coast that Flawless would confirm), she nods towards the large doors in the back—a silent invitation to move elsewhere. Talking here has never appealed to Caitlyn.]
Who are these humans? Are they aligned?
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Aligned. What do you mean by that?
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Working in tandem. Towards the same goal. [Not necessarily synonymous.]
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You're thinking too narrow. Anyone can be born with one of these abilities. It's only a small percentage of the population, but they definitely aren't all working together.
[There's one beat of quiet as they pass through a doorway.]
Some do, though. They could be now.
(no subject)