ersatzdivinity | Open Musebox Post

[After Alexei died, she'd thought the idea of a support group was not only unnecessary, it was insulting. She'd known his assignment was dangerous. They'd both been prepared for the worst. The notice, when it came, had been all but expected. Why did she need a support group, filled with people grieving for strangers, each in their own kind of pain?

Ultimately, six months after, she'd caved to her counselor's gentle insistence, and she was glad she had. The moment she'd seen Beverly, blue eyes meeting green across the room, she'd known. There was a kind of knowledge in that look, a knowledge reflected in their introduction, something that told her here was a woman who understood her loss. Beverly had lost her own husband almost a year prior, and the conversation they had that day had stayed with her so insistently she'd come back the next week. And the one after. Soon, conversations had bridged the gap between meetings, written notes, and eventually...

Opening those same green eyes, Natasha slowly rolls over, careful not to wake her partner. Almost a year now, they've been living together, the three of them, and almost three now since she'd met Beverly and little Wesley. Hard to believe. She'd never seen herself with children, with a family, not like this. Her career was important, the work fulfilling and necessary. And yet, here she was. Reaching over, she brushes light fingers over Beverly's upper arm, and an unintended smile tugs at her lips.]

Seriously. Tactical lingerie. It's a legitimate thing, I swear.

apocalypse.

He doesn't know how long he's been separated from the others. He doesn't know how long he's been unconscious, either, only that his heart is racing as he jolts upright and scrambles to his feet, wincing at the pain in his temple. Fingers lift to the side of his face, come away sticky, but the scream that woke him comes again, leaving him no time to do anything about it, he can move, so he does, grabbing his fallen rifle and heading for the noise, eyes peeled for anything else on the horizon, human or not.

it's in tents.

A fire might not be the best idea, never know who you're going to attract these days, but 10K knows without it they're both going to end up with frostbite or worse. As long as they keep an eye out, everything should be okay; the Z's hate the cold, if undead monsters can hate anything, so they shouldn't have to worry too much. Not that that'll stop him.

Putting another small log on the fire, he lifts his chin at his companion. "You should sleep. I'll take first watch."

hit me with your best shot.

Whatever you want here!

Natasha's no stranger to undercover work. In fact, it's more or less what she was made for; to fit in, to blend, to be just another face in the crowd to everyone but that one unlucky individual in the moment of their death. She's pretended to be any number of things. But frankly, the idea of this one makes her itchy. She's always worked better alone. Still, the job is the job. She'll always do that well.

The party is quiet and refined, the company glamorous, and this redhead is no exception as she steps softly up behind the brunette she's partnered with, one hand sliding lightly across the woman's back as she smiles brightly at the man Gaby is currently in conversation with. "There you are, darling, I'm glad I found you. And who's this you've run off and left me for?" And does she need to tell him his advances are unwelcome, she seems to imply, like the woman she's playing would. That woman would care. Natasha herself, maybe not so much. Mostly.

Edited 2017-06-28 12:01 (UTC)

"I'm not really surprised that you murdered him."

Spider threads caught at her face, a sign that no-one had been there yet.

Half the names on the list had already been crossed off.

Edited (my god they're huge jim) 2017-10-31 03:44 (UTC)

[ There is nothing he loathes more than to waste time, and today had largely felt like a day of wasted time. His experiment had failed, despite meticulous planning, and he'd taken long enough figuring out why that he was almost late to his chat for today. hopefully, Charlie wouldn't mind. ]

bluefish: Hey man, hope your day was better than mine. Pretty much had to be.

Pamela stands from the stool in front of her workbench, stretching her arms above her head and bending at the waist backward a little while looking at the ceiling. The digital watch with a traditional face buzzes on her wrist as she brings her arms down and lets out a loud breath, rolling her neck and shoulders. "Alright," she says with a vague annoyance as the buzzing continues; time to do some walking.

The stairs are a good option, considering she's only on the third floor, not the rooftop greenhouse today; they're almost always empty except people like her, trying to get a certain number of steps in for the day, for whatever various reason. Late in the afternoon most of those who work in the building are already settled in their offices and labs, behind their counters. Pam exits the stairwell and curves past the people waiting in line for said counters and enters a new line, this time for caffeine.

She gets a blueberry muffin after a second thought to go with her macchiato, rose flavor, and heads towards the gardens to check on the plants there.

People can come in, of course, but it's like a garden in any unexpected administrative space - sparsely visited, except by those seeking zen or a hiding space.

The flowers turn in Pamela's direction and whisper in her mind, greetings and gossip and curiosity, sunflowers wide and bright, lavender rich and heavily scented. She stands next to flowers that tower over her and breaks her muffin into little pieces, turning her head when she hears someone behind her.

Edited 2018-02-14 21:07 (UTC)

Beverly, Trekverse

Pepper

10K, prompts for voicetesting

Gaby/Nat, modern AU

no subject

Charlie, online shenanigans

meet cute pt 1: union HQ coffee shop & gardens