epidemiology | open | left behind crew

Entry tags:

open | left behind crew

CHARACTERS: Riza Hawkeye, open
DATE: over the span of the week after the storm
WARNINGS: talk of dead bodies, will update with anything else
SUMMARY: general prompts!

I - INVESTIGATION

[As if sliced open dead bodies weren't bad enough, there's talk of sacrifice and worship to go along with them, whispers given credence by the offerings appearing all over town. Some are mundane and nearly missed, others are so obvious she can't help but stop and inspect.

Her fingers reach out, following the path of the elaborate seashells circles carefully placed in the dirt. Like and yet unlike the all too common alchemical circles from home. A thought strikes her, shivers down her spine and freezes her fingers in place.]

No....

[There's no way it could be such a thing, could there?]

II - WELCOME TO THE GUN SHOW

[The offer's a long time coming but necessary (to her) in the wake of magic rapidly seeping from the land - and the Nalawi slowly losing their grip on rational thought as a result. Away from the main village she sets up a temporary base of operations, though it's nothing more than a few well-placed coconuts and an old torn sheet with a target drawn across in dirt.

As for Riza herself, she sits with a small box open next to her, giving the gun her one hand one last good polish. Faint circles color the skin underneath her eyes but her posture is straight as ever when she unfolds and stands up, chin lifted and shoulders parallel with the ground.]

Ready?

[Her tone is all business, matching the hard glint in her eyes. Hayate sits with his tail curled around him at the base of a nearby tree, dark eyes watchful for unwelcome passersby.]

III - OBLIGATORY DOGE PROMPT (TWO DOGE FOR THE $$$ OF ONE)

[Even ash-filled skies part ever so often to let in a few momentary rays of sunshine and the same goes for Riza's mood - mostly dark but peppered occasionally by bright moments, most often brought about by a pair of four-footed furballs.

Sieglinde might be missing but Isengrim certainly isn't, and Riza's hardly about to leave him without spending at least some time in his company whenever he elects to appear. (Fend for himself he might be perfectly capable of, but he'll get no love from any of the Nalawi in their current state.) Hayate seems glad for the company too, and the sight of the two playing with each other is enough to bring a smile to her face.

Isengrim bounds up, tongue lolling out of his mouth, and she leans forward to give the large skulldog a few scratches behind one ear.]

(ooc: Riza would have made a network post about offering to teach people basic martial arts and how to use a gun in self-defense in the wake of everyone's magic being MIA but I ain't got time for that so feel free to handwave that your character learned about it there. Or just have them randomly show up, that's also okay. If you wanna do something else, shoot me a PM or pp me at

speedforce and we'll chat! Or just leave me a starter, I'm easy like Sunday morning.)

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[One can only hack through jungle for so long looking for cultists before they need a break. And for Hellboy, filled with anxious energy and frustration, there is no better break than shooting at things.

Ninat is sitting with Hayate, her ears swiveling as she helps him survey. Somewhere, distantly, Hellboy wonders if she's even heard a gun before, but he supposes they'll find out soon enough.]

Don't laugh.

[It's a joke, but his tone is hard and stressed. He lifts his revolver in his flesh hand, takes a second to aim, then fires a single round at the target. He's close enough where he doesn't miss it entirely, but still far enough away where his completely godawful aim means he misses the center by an embarrassing amount.]

Edited (repetition) 2016-05-06 17:25 (UTC)

( it's kinda funny how all his time as Spider-Man didn't really prepare him for the situation in Nalawi.

he has managed to save most of the people he runs across. whatever big bad is out there, he somehow always manages to get the civilians to safety. the big exceptions were not lost on him, of course, yet somehow he really hadn't really had to be grounded in the reality of failing. on a rather astronomical scale. so many of these people were dead or missing, and he hadn't managed to stop any of it.

he's wearing it hard. and it shows. to him, that just means he needs to try harder. he's not as strong as he usually is and more a normal than he has in years, but that doesn't give him an escape from responsibility, in the end. funny how that works.

it means he spends a lot of time on patrol. he's stumbled across too many bodies, too many failures that way, but it's better that they're found late than never. when he spots the woman kneeling in the dirt, he assumes the worst. )

It's not another one, is it?

( he's got a count running in his head, and it's already too damn high. )

[ The facts are as follows: one, they are missing, like, half of the recruits sent down here, with no way to reach them, if they're still actually not dead. Two, there are people, dead in stomach-turning ways, on the shore; strange constellations made out of seashells, and all of that spells out "ritual sacrifice" in neon-bright letters that flash like the world's brightest warning sign.

Three, Stiles is so investigating the hell out of this.

Which is what he's doing, now, a notebook in hand and a pencil tucked behind his ear, scribbling notes of everything worthwhile, the smallest details he can find-- everything matters. Nothing is insignificant. ]

I wonder if that's, like, some kind of sign. [ Suddenly there is a shadow falling over Riza as Stiles leans closer to see the circle better, one hand already reaching for the pencil, to draw this particular construction of seashells, so he won't forget how it looked. Taking a picture would be easier, but it seems no one has taught the Magitek to do that just yet. ]

Found something?

[ the tone more than the word caught his attention. already prone to solemnity, his countenance is more severe than ever, though none of it is aimed at her. only after he has her attention does he approach, eyeing the circle with a critical eye. ]

[ Tsukuyo really is not used to looking after a giant dog, but after finding him it really doesn't feel right to simply leave him. Plus, he ought to be a big help in finding any traces of the missing people, especially if any of those traces are from Gintoki.

But at the moment, he isn't really listening because, perhaps it's Riza or the sight of the other dogs, but he decides to suddenly turn with a bark and take off running towards them. ]

Sadaharu! Get back here!

[ How do you stop a giant dog???

She doesn't really have much of a choice but to follow. ]

[It's a party now.

Both Isengrim and Hayate immediately snap to attention at the introduction of a strange oversized newcomer to their ranks, and both are quick to trot over in welcome, Isengrim's uneven footfalls in contrast to Hayate's neat steps.

Riza, for her own part, looks a bit stunned at the sheer enormity of the oversized dog - is it a dog? she's never seen a dog of that bulk before - but she's content to let the pack of canines sniff and circle around each other while the other woman draws near. Her face is unfamiliar, but the fact that she isn't covered in brown fur an antlers marks her as another recruit.]

That's a very large dog you have there.

[?????]

[ Oh. Well.

Tsukuyo doesn't know Sadaharu that well, so she was a little concerned he might tear those poor normal sized dogs to shreds. It seems to be all right, though, so she slows down a little the last few feet, and comes to a stop with a heavy sigh as she covers her face with one hand. ]

Ah, geez ...

[ She straightens, lowers the hand and offers a sheepish smile. ]

Yeah, he's ... alien, I'm pretty sure. Not that I know much about dogs.

[An easy enough request - all the good humor's been sapped out of her the past few days, leaving her worn and brittle inside. There's no mirth on her face as she watches him aim and fire, only a cool detachment as she observes his posture, the way his fingers wrap around the grip of his gun, the distance between bullseye and the eventual location of his own bullet.

It's enough to get him by, but there's (always) room for improvement.

She circles around him, placing one hand between his shoulder blades to push the tilt of his torso slightly forward, then takes a few more steps to straighten out his wrist.]

Tighten your grip some more. Don't let your aim waver at all.

[Easier said than done, but out of all the things grip is at the very top of the hierarchy of things to pay attention to while shooting.]

[After raising a dog of her own for the better part of a year, Riza's quite confident she knows at least a moderate amount of dogs, and she's absolutely sure she's never heard of any sort of dog that grows larger than average-sized humans. So, alien? Probably very likely.

She eyes Sadaharu another moment before returning her attention back to Tsukuyo.]

He seems nice enough. [AKA he's not tearing anyone to shreds just yet.] Have you had him for long?

[Assumption that this woman's his owner is go.]

[ Since she'd extinguished her pipe when Sadaharu rushed off, she brings it out and lights it while Riza talks. Becoming a dogsitter hadn't really been part of her plan but, then, getting lost undoubtedly hadn't been part of Gintoki's plan, so she supposes she can forgive him. ]

He ain't mine, but the owner's had 'im as long as I've known 'em.

[At the voice, she looks up. An unfamiliar face, marking him as possibly newer to the team, but she's also long since given up on trying to keep track of the revolving door of ALASTAIR recruits. (Another beef she has with ALASTAIR, but that can be saved for a later day.) Young too, though he seems to be taking this seriously at least.

Riza rocks back on her heels, fingers pulling away from the pattern carefully laid out in the dirt.]

A sign, or a symbol used for rituals of some sort.

[Circles had always been the base for alchemy, both good and bad, and she can't quite shake off the feeling of dread that settles on her each time she catches sight of another one carefully laid out around the island.]

I've seen similar things, but not this design specifically.

[Not hers, huh? That's enough to beg the question of:]

Who's his owner?

[Where might be the more salient question to ask, but given recent developments and the drastic culling of their numbers - intentional or otherwise - she's got a fairly good idea of where this mysterious owner might've gone.

Off to the side, Isengrim and Hayate skitter around and through Sadaharu's legs, tails swooshing back and forth.]

Gintoki. Ring a bell? He tends to make a name for himself.

[ Favourable or not. It seems that wherever Gintoki goes, he leaves a big mark. People know him, as a general rule. ]

[Riza's reaction is instantaneous, obvious: surprise flashes across her face, followed by mild annoyance and a dash of curiosity. It definitely rings a bell alright, and one corner of her lips tick down as a result.]

He's never struck as a dog person.

[Or really a pet person in general.]

[ Yep, this woman definitely knows Gintoki. She doesn't need to say anything at all, really. Tsukuyo can't quite help the skew smile that briefly crosses her lips, though she doesn't really try to stop it. ]

He ain't really any kinda person. Don't think he was the one who decided to get a dog, though.

[ Sadaharu seems to be getting mildly unsure of what to do with these tiny things running between his legs, though, and barks at them as he tries to step away. ]

[She is unfamiliar to him, too, but then so are most of the recruits; he only recognizes those he spoke to, upon arriving here, and most of them seem to... not be here. He can only assume they're among those separated from them during the storm.

(Separated... or worse.)

And granted, perhaps Stiles isn't the best at first impressions, but like this, he isn't concerned with that, or anything else than the seashells, lying there on the sand, pretty and unassuming and undeniably meaningful. ]

Rituals? Wait, you mean-

[ He turns his head so fast it is a miracle there is no whiplash, to look around them, to search for a body; rituals might as well equal to sacrifices, and if there is a sign made for whatever strange god the locals make their offerings to... it isn't too far-fetched that a body might turn up, too.

But no matter how hard he looks, there is no one else, alive or dead, on this particular stretch of beach than the two of them. ]

So... it's not for a sacrifice. I mean, I guess they must have other rituals, too... ugh, I wish there was, like, a handbook for this stuff. Weird Local Customs and Rituals 101, you know?

[ Even though he's had time spent with Hellboy, Dipper still worries, and spends time doing his own searching. Trying to look for clues. Desperately trying to contact his sister or uncle despite knowing it's all futile for the time being. He hasn't sat still for any lengthy period of time in hopes he could make a break in the case, although all they could really do in the meantime is wait for the storm beyond to settle.

Carefully, Dipper is currently making his nth trek through Pu'ulai. Lately the Nalawi have been aggressive at best, and while he can't imagine he possesses anything they would want, he isn't up for taking any chances. But while he sneaks around, luckily he comes across someone considerably more human: Riza, crouched down, stilled over deliberately placed seashells. Dipper misinterprets her reasons behind this entirely, jogging over with hope in his disposition. ]

—Hey! Did you find a clue?

[(The answer is play!, Sadaharu.)

The woman's description of him seems oddly spot-on - backed by years of astute observation, no doubt - and Riza's quick to let out a mildly annoyed exhale.]

Was it more of a 'the dog decided to adopt him' type of situation?

[Though why anything would want to adopt Gintoki of all people she'll never know.]

[Of all the people Riza expects to see the least, Dipper's probably at the top of that list. Not because she doesn't want him around but because the village has turned dangerous lately, the previous welcome in the Nalawi's eyes replaced with suspicion and resentment, and it's become no place for a kid of Dipper's years and stature.

But he's smart - smarter than she is, if she's entirely honest - and she could use some brains right about now, so she keeps silent as he approaches, moving only to pull her hand away in a sweeping gesture and reveal the circle of seashells still carefully placed in the ground. As far as clues go, it's not a particularly uplifting one.]

A pattern, but I don't think it'll help us find our missing friends.

[Not unless one of them has telekinesis that reaches all the way across oceans—or wherever it is they are.]

We don't know yet.

[If they're for sacrifices or not yet, that is. It's a definite possibility though, more than likely if her own experiences have taught her anything. Alchemy. Equivalent exchange. To gain one thing something else must be offered up, and Riza's quite sure that any Nalawi willing to place strange symbols in the sand aren't willing to settle for such paltry offerings as ash-coated coconuts and storm-snapped debris.

Not to mention—]

If these are connected to the dead bodies on the beach, sacrifices might still be a possibility.

[Sorry Stiles, guess who's a huge party pooper.]

No.

[King's reply is comically quick and sure. The way he eyes that gun, like it might as well be some sort of alien probe, doesn't match up to poor Riza's curt, business-like attitude. King may be, well, a king, but there's nothing royal about the very cautious step backward that he takes.]

I really only came here to watch anyway.

[Perhaps it's for the best. Putting a gun in King's hands is just asking for Nalawi child services to show up.]

[Depends on what he means by 'another one', though she can hazard a guess.

Riza's gleaned all she can from the seashells (which is absolutely nothing of worth) so she pushes herself back up, stepping away to give Peter a better look. Maybe he'll be able to make something out of it, maybe he'll have talked about something similar with a Nalawi days ago.

(Maybe maybe maybe but nothing ever definite, and it's starting to wear on her.)]

Not another body, but it's another one of these symbols. There've been more of them showing up lately.

[For better or worse.]

[She startles at the voice, head whipping up to stare at the onlooker out of habit. His face is unfamiliar but not filled with any sort of malicious intent that she can see, so her shoulders drop back down. That motion's followed by a sigh and her fingers silently withdrawing from their place against the cool surfaces of the seashells.]

A pattern that reminded me of unpleasant things from home.

[There's no telling if there's any actually any connection between the two, but she's not willing to discredit the idea just yet.]

... great.

[ All of that sounds just great. By which he means they don't sound great at all. (And honestly? He kinda expected as much. Riza may be a party pooper, but Stiles is paranoid, and that amounts to nearly the same thing; not being able to file away the worst possibility until there is 180% certainty of it not being the case.)

He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. ]

So, what, these are markings explaining that hey, by the way, all those bodies are a sacrifice for you please bring us good fortune thanks?

[ ... actually, they might very well be just that. ]

( does he know what any of the symbols mean? no, unfortunately, he doesn't. not exactly. Peter has spent most of his time trying to protect the bodies from the elements and keeping up with patrols. he hasn't had the chance to learn what all the symbols mean, unfortunately, but at least he might know someone that would. )

I was talking to this guy, Stiles. He thinks they're messages, basically. Prayers, wards, some kind of signal involved in their worship... ( Peter drops down into a crouch to see the design better, before shaking his head. it still means nothing to him. ) I can get a sketch to him and maybe he'll know what it means. This sort of thing is not my forte.

( he's a more technological, scientific sort. he doesn't know how to work with cultist, magical messages. ) At least it's just shells. ( the maybes are wearing on him, too, but not as much as all the pointless death. )

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open | left behind crew

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the number of gun-related pages i have open rn is ridiculous

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gently squishes his cheeks

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excuse u his cheeks are very un-squishable

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the most squishable!!

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