[Cue Nathan storming up to a hologram to give her (it?) a piece of his mind.]
I know you! You've kidnapped me! Is this because I shat in your bed? Because I already explained, pure case of mistaken identity, no need to go all Hunger Games on my arse for it, all right?
[ for a long moment, the hologram is still. oh, a cold shoulder? no. rosa springs to life in a jagged motion. her os is in desperate need of an update. ]
We apologize for the inconvenience, participant. Your cooperation is valuable.
[ this should be rome, she thinks. if she has left astor, and all its broken things in that world, this should be rome. and instead, she does not understand the immense buildings of this place. the soft glow of light that isn't fire. all the steel and iron. her pack is too light. the air beside her, beneath her, is not warm enough. her arm does not sting an old pain, and for all loria is miserable...
claudia finds herself wishing for the mountains. the scent of grass burning in the sun, fresh rain and a crispness that follows the cliffs, and the salt of the sea carried in the wind. here, the wind carries something foreign. ale and oil, perhaps, but all the same: disgusting. (her throat feels raw.)
somewhere, glass shatters, and the hall pitches into darkness. she misplaces her foot: something that rolls beneath her and claudia falls to the ground in a hard thud. — hitting her chin and scraping her hands and she tastes copper. she groans, then, rolling onto her back. staring into the pitch. at least her tongue isn't swimming in her throat, she thinks. ]
[ Clay enjoys the fox mask. It keeps him hidden. Keeps him secret. ]
[ After being raised from the dead and given a flesh and blood body, staying secret is something of a priority for Clay Kaczmarek. What he's not pleased about is well, the fact he was brought back in the first place. He'd finally kicked the bucket proper and then suddenly he's here, surrounded by demons and idiots. This must be some kind of circle of hell, courtesy of Mr. Alighieri himself. A punishment or a test, Clay doesn't know. ]
[ What he does know is that he's not alone in this building. What he finds is a girl face down on the floor. If he's lucky, she'll be picked off first. Why he lingers over her, why he speaks, voice hollow behind the mask, Clay doesn't know. ]
[ He knows that voice. That doesn't mean much to someone like Clay, who knows millions of voices, all of them packed into his head, waiting for processing. ] Why aren't you running?
[ another noise, soft. she wants to spit, but the mask... instead, she swallows the taste of copper as she reaches for a wall beside her. truth of the matter, it's too dark to run. ]
[ And suddenly everything slots into place. Where he knows that voice and how. Jesus. He wasn't the only one brought back from the dead. They had to touch his sister, too. ]
[ she stills, breath and all. this man might know her name for a hundred reasons. but she is alone, now, and standing in the dark, and god knows the reason for her being here. — for him being here. if she had a dagger... claudia wets her bottom lip. ]
[ but shouldn't she know him, then? is it a trick? — unless he is from astor, too. she hadn't spoken to anne or connor before the coffins had reclaimed them, after all. ]
[ that might have comforted her as a girl. and she would have been so quick to trust him. (that girl isn't dead. claudia feels a lurch in her to ask for his help.) but federico and petruccio have rotted in the arno for decades, now. she should know this man. claudia takes a careful step from him. her hand itches for a blade. ]
I know the Assassin's, sorella. [ Clay tightens his jaw, thinking of how to convince her, Claudia, his sister. ] We work in the dark to serve the light, or however that goes.
I would think so, considering they captured and tortured me for a year and a half. [ Clay's voice is dry. Templars. The hands that try to control all. He'd rather be dead again than be grouped with them. ]
It's how I know your family. Or at least-- why I know your family. How is just another piece of Eden. [ Or the tech from it. The same thing, in the end. ]
[ silence again. the girl in her trusts him. the assassin in her hears truth. but those things feel wrong, still, and claudia feels an itch beneath her skin. in her hand for a blade. in her shins for her to run. her stomach twists. ]
[ He's not going to be able to convince her yet. That Clay knows. He's not an idiot. Instead Clay reaches into his pack and tosses down the rope he'd been gifted upon waking up in front of Claudia. ] Take it, from Brother to Sister.
[There is some guy running full flail, mask strapped to the side of his head, almost like a jaunty beret, through which a mass of thick curls are sticking out. He's wearing a blanket like a cape, but that doesn't quite cover up the fact that he's also wearing an orange jumpsuit, like the kind inmates wear.
He's also screaming at the top of his lungs in an Irish lilt.]
[ guess who is watching from a roof? this gal! claudia shakes her head. (she understands the itch to remove the mask, but without it, how does he expect to win this stupid thing? supplies are waiting. and supplies can lead to escape.) under her breath, ]
[anally probed. seriously? while the whole setup was very much straight from some science-fiction movie, it was more Hollywood than B-horror. she's got her mask on, and the tap-tap-tap of her shoes might be drowned out by his cries of stupidity.
sure, she could duck around and avoid him altogether, but if he's going to not be wearing his mask, then than means that he's headed straight for a loss, and close by there has to be the demons. a straight shot would give her more time, should they come.
so she keeps her hands tight on the strap of her pack, head down as she stays to the side of the building he's about to pass. with luck, he'll miss her in his alien panic. without it...well, she'll deal with that when it comes.]
[it had been so obviously wrong when she had woken up. it was metal and chill, not the warm life that she had seen when she'd pulled over for a nap. (New York had been far. Now it was farther still.) the breeze through the fields had lulled her to sleep, and now this project.
there are so many questions she has, but cannot ask. answers that may lie in being quiet, in working to survive so that she can win. so she puts on the mask, and she starts to move.
a piece of old metal, rusted and jagged, she manages to break off from a wall by using the blanket to shield her hands. that gets tucked into the pack as well, just in case, she thinks.
and more importantly, she has to keep moving. the faster she gets to the center, the faster she can rest.
even with care, though, her movements echo more than she'd like. metal screeches when she pushes open one of the doors, and she winces below the mask. a pause for a moment, to listen and find out if someone--or something--was close by.]
ROSA. NIGHT 1 - 3. OTA.
NIGHT 1 why not
[Cue Nathan storming up to a hologram to give her (it?) a piece of his mind.]
I know you! You've kidnapped me! Is this because I shat in your bed? Because I already explained, pure case of mistaken identity, no need to go all Hunger Games on my arse for it, all right?
no subject
We apologize for the inconvenience, participant. Your cooperation is valuable.
CLAUDIA. NIGHT 1. OTA.
no subject
[ After being raised from the dead and given a flesh and blood body, staying secret is something of a priority for Clay Kaczmarek. What he's not pleased about is well, the fact he was brought back in the first place. He'd finally kicked the bucket proper and then suddenly he's here, surrounded by demons and idiots. This must be some kind of circle of hell, courtesy of Mr. Alighieri himself. A punishment or a test, Clay doesn't know. ]
[ What he does know is that he's not alone in this building. What he finds is a girl face down on the floor. If he's lucky, she'll be picked off first. Why he lingers over her, why he speaks, voice hollow behind the mask, Clay doesn't know. ]
Stand up.
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I would like to wallow in peace.
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Why aren't you?
[ THIS GUY... ]
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What's your name?
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Claudia Auditore.
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Have we met?
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I'm afraid I do not know your name.
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Clay. Who else do you know?
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How do you know the Auditore?
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[ can't see shit captain ]
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It's a rope. Sturdy, long, good for whatever you want it to be for. Take it.
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Keep it.
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night 1. i am so sorry.
He's also screaming at the top of his lungs in an Irish lilt.]
HELP! HELP! I'VE BEEN ANALLY PROBED!
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Idiota.
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sure, she could duck around and avoid him altogether, but if he's going to not be wearing his mask, then than means that he's headed straight for a loss, and close by there has to be the demons. a straight shot would give her more time, should they come.
so she keeps her hands tight on the strap of her pack, head down as she stays to the side of the building he's about to pass. with luck, he'll miss her in his alien panic. without it...well, she'll deal with that when it comes.]
india | night 1
there are so many questions she has, but cannot ask. answers that may lie in being quiet, in working to survive so that she can win. so she puts on the mask, and she starts to move.
a piece of old metal, rusted and jagged, she manages to break off from a wall by using the blanket to shield her hands. that gets tucked into the pack as well, just in case, she thinks.
and more importantly, she has to keep moving. the faster she gets to the center, the faster she can rest.
even with care, though, her movements echo more than she'd like. metal screeches when she pushes open one of the doors, and she winces below the mask. a pause for a moment, to listen and find out if someone--or something--was close by.]