Trouble in the city, trouble on the farm [Catch-all; open]

[dirtyredneck]

WHO: Daryl Dixon and open
WHERE: All over
WHEN: Month of July
WHAT: Catch-All! Open prompts up top, specific prompts in the comments
WARNINGS: Zombie mentions, language, more tbd

Any City: The Angel is on the hunt; Any time in July; De Chima only during the zombie plot
Daryl has his hood up, head down. He's walking with his hands tucked into the pockets of a nondescript leather jacket and this late at night, most people chose not to pay attention to him. He looked like almost any guy trying to get by in the night and not be obvious about where he was going or what he was doing. His face just obscured enough by the hood to make identifying him difficult without getting right in his face.

But that doesn't stay the case for long, after he's found his trail. It's not an immediately obvious one. Just him stopping occasionally to glance around and then pull a flower or a weed out of a crack in the sidewalk. At least until the small plants he's oddly interested in are being pulled off of walls. Then he takes a look around and slips into someplace dark enough to hide him as he pulls on his mask and makes sure he's covered from head to foot. Then he's making his way up a fire-escape to a window or along an alleyway to a door. And outside of being quiet, he's not especially trying to hide his actions.

A little while later, should any observers decide not to interfere with his suspicious actions, there's the sound of combat from where he went into - all grunts or cut-off cries of pain or silenced gunfire. Some time after that, when all is quiet again, the man slips out of the building with a child wrapped in his arms and a pair of glowing wings made of orange and blue light that give his position away. But at that point he's not out to protect his position. He's out to protect the kid he's just rescued and fly them off home.

Nonah: Motorcycle Madness; Early in the month
Daryl was pretty well known among his fans by now for preferring a motorcycle to get around on rather than the wings he'd been gifted with by the Porter. So it was little surprise when he showed up at a small Bike show for custom builds. If he saw any obvious imPorts or people he already knew, he gravitated toward them and nodded at the bike they were looking over, "You like that one? Don't think the suspension's too much?"

Wild Card: Nonah, De Chima, Heropa
Daryl is out and about doing normal things in the early half of the month, fighting zombies in De Chima in the second half. He can be found doing basic grocery shopping, checking out nick-knack stores, hanging around parks, and doing everything but eating in public. The closest he comes on that end is having some very mild tea at a couple different shops he liked and attempting to avoid the paparazzi. Largely unsuccessfully.

[[Action or Prose is fine, I'll match your preference. If you want a specific prompt, poke me in PM and I'll put one up for you.]]

Comments

Draugr

[dirtyredneck]

[If anyone in the Constellation needs/wants to meet with Draugr in person, this is the spot to do it. Draugr will come dressed in all black, with a full-face mask to prevent easy identification.]

Poltergeist

[stretchy_girl]

Have Heaven Scent info for you, we should meet. Poltergeist.

[The communication had been sent, marked with a place and time via secure communication, the sender marked as 'Unknown', the only clue to who it was from being the moniker at the end. Sure enough, the moment Draugr appears then a part of the shadows moves, a figure seeming to materialise, barely visible against the surrounding dark. If Draugr wants to protect his identity then she will keep him guessing too.]

You must be Draugr. [The voice was vaguely feminine, but strangely indistinct.]

[dirtyredneck]

Hai.

[He answered curtly, before breaking out into flawless and crisp Japanese, voice distorted by a modulator that made his tone come out sounding a little like an autotune dial had been left on, forcing the sound of his voice to come out as though it were rising and falling through the octaves.]

You said you have information on Heaven Scent. What is it?

[stretchy_girl]

[Japanese was a language that Gemini had only recently turned her attention to learning following the treachery of one Tohru Adachi, so when she spoke in reply it was much more slowly.]

I have infiltrated Heaven Scent's main executive facility. I have a number of staff files and laboratory locations ready for you.

A memory stick gleamed amid the darkness as she held it up for Draugr to see.]

There will be more but for the time being I'm still working on bypassing their security encryptions.

For Rosa - Early July

[dirtyredneck]

The night before had gone better than Daryl had thought it would. He hadn't intended to meet up with Rosa at Granny's, but she'd shown up while he was making his exit. He hadn't accepted the drink she'd offered to buy him, but he'd stuck around and kept her company. Eventually she got really, really drunk. He wasn't sure what had driven her to it or if it was a normal thing for her, but by the time he was helping her stumble out of the bar, there was no way she was good for getting back to wherever her home was.

So he took her to his. It wasn't that far and after he got her safely into one of the empty beds, he headed back to the bar for his ride since he'd taken hers on the first run. Wings were helpful for that.

He checked on her a couple times before finally getting his own ass to bed. But he woke up early, before dawn, like normal. Checked the traps and brought home a rabbit for slaughter. When she eventually woke up, she'd find him in the kitchen, cooking up Bugs along with a helping of eggs and a fresh pot of coffee next to the pot of tea he'd made for himself.

[pop_of_color]

The last time Rosa got drunk was the night before she was supposed to have gotten married to Adrian. The others in the squad had figured out, after she'd pounded back a bunch of peach bellinis (a drink ultimately meant for like, six year olds, but one she enjoyed all the same) and got the others drunk one by one, that she was sending a message. She wasn't ready. Since then, she'd avoided getting hammered and kept to her limit unless she was already home.

Of course, that all flew out the fucking window the second she arrived in this strange, fucked up place. She had only had a few drinks here and there since she'd come through the Porter, but tonight, she decides to fuck the limit and go all out. Who cares? It's not like she can die, technically. It takes her more than her usual amount to even get a buzz going because of the fucking nanites, but she eventually overdoes it and gets completely wasted.

The rest of the night is a series of blurs. She remembers running into Daryl, she remembers accidentally slamming a glass down too hard and breaking the glass, cutting up her hand some, then wiping the blood off on her pants and refusing help. She remembers the wind on her way back to somewhere.

When she wakes the next morning, she feels like her skull's going to fucking explode and lets out a long, unhappy groan into her pillow (at a low volume, of course, to avoid making the headache worse). She lays there for 30 minutes before finally dragging her ass out of bed, practically screaming when she wakes up to a bunch of dead and stuffed fucking animals staring at her.

"What the fuck," she seethes, back flush against the wall as she slides along it, shuffling her steps to the side, until she slips out of the door way. The rest of the place isn't any better. They're fucking everywhere. The smell of coffee and eggs helps guide her to the kitchen, and there's a certain speed in her steps as she practically barrels her way into it, stopping just short of colliding with Daryl. "WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE? Oh, ow, no, can't shout," she says, pressing her palm to her throbbing forehead. "This is like some fucking Disney movie gone fucking sinister."

[dirtyredneck]

At least two of the 'stuffed animals' weren't stuffed. A pair of ravens followed her from the hallway outside the bedroom and into the kitchen, using what other decorations were there as their perches on the way. They were being 'polite' as Daryl had told them to. Which just meant they weren't getting in close while also being super curious about this newcomer to the house.

Daryl slips some eggs over hard onto a plate along side some strips of effectively rabbit bacon (tasted more like steak, but cooked like bacon) and moved to set it down on the table before he gestured to the seat they were in front of, "Yell at me later. Get something in you 'fore the Lil'Shits decide they've waited long enough for their meal."

Her being upset and sporting a hangover didn't set him on edge in the least. He wasn't sure what she was going on about, of course. But he didn't let it bother him. She'd probably make sense eventually.

[pop_of_color]

"The fuck are you -- Oh, dude, what the fuck?" she asks, finally spotting the ravens, turning their heads this way and that to get a better look at her. She'll come back to them later, probably with a lot more respect and some admiration cause that's cool as shit, but in conjunction with all of the other taxidermied crap in the house, they put her a little on edge. She feels like she's stepped into an Edgar Allen Poe novel.

She watches them, maintaining eye contact to let them know she isn't fucking around, before sitting herself down at the table. What she wouldn't give for some greasy ass food at a diner right about now. Still, what Daryl's made looks good, and the kindness of the gesture isn't entirely lost on her.

"I half-expected the lampshades to be like, made out of human skin," she mutters, forking some of the egg. "This feels like some Silence of the Lambs shit." She pops the egg into her mouth and grunts a little bit of happiness. She pokes the meat with her fork. "Doesn't look like pork ... uh, do I wanna ask what it is?"

For Tina - early July

[dirtyredneck]

The girl was weird. Even for a kid. Just, weird. But she was pretty cool, too. And she'd agreed to be his cook. Her super power of being able to make anything perfectly meant that no matter how bland it seemed when she fixed it up, it ended up flavored just enough that he could feel normal again without the tastes overwhelming him. And after close to a year of eating mostly rice and raw meat, it was a mind-blowing experience.

He didn't get to eat with her every day or even most days. His schedule was too busy. But when he had the chance, he'd head over to where she was and spend the time while she cooked listening to her chatter away about whatever. Today was no exception.

[continuousgroaning]

Today, since it was a pretty nice day, Tina's stationed herself outside at a park. There's a grill there, and while it's not as nice as her dad's (which was saying something, on reflection), it was still able to cook perfectly well.

Tina's got a few typical picnic items in a cooler- some hot dogs, some ears of corn, and so on- and she's squinting as she lights the coals.

"Hopefully this won't end up like the time I burned someone's house down," she remarked. "Of course, there WAS kerosene involved that time."

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl's sitting not far from the grill, snagged an 'early seat' on his bike just behind her set up and is leaning on the gas tank. Once she got going, her place would be swamped with customers. First time he'd seen it, it had been something of an eye-opener.

"Sure it won't," he answered even if she wasn't expecting one. "You ain't got enough lighter fluid there to do more'n spark a little and catch the coals 'fore it goes out. You burn it down on purpose?"

[continuousgroaning]

"And that's a good thing," she replied with a grin, then turned serious again. "I thought it was my fault at first, but there was more to it. It's a bit of a long story, but Dad and I got blackmailed into helping an insurance guy commit fraud. He doused the side of his house in odorless kerosene, put the grill right up against it, and... poof. It was all to collect the money from the policy." She paused. "... which is pretty messed up, when I think about it."

[De Chima, with zombies]

[cadbane]

Strange things were happening but Cad Bane was used to such oddities within the galaxy in his fifty or so standard years travelling around it so he hadn't paid much mind to the goings on. However, when creatures who looked human but were clearly more dangerous than the local residents started attacking others in the streets near his current residence, Bane went into the fray.

Not to protect others, as such, but the disturbances were obviously something that needed to be contained. Maybe there would be a reward for services to the city afterward. That was the thought that drove him most.

There was a small group. Maybe five or six of the walking dead were attacking a couple of people as the bounty hunter stepped out. He tilted his head regarding them for a moment, then called out to them. There was something hungry about their expressions; threatening, as they turned their gazes toward the blue alien, dressed in his usual Wild Western-style outfit. The victims seized the opportunity to flee as the distracted zombies turned their attention away from them. Bane held his ground and pulled out his blasters. He gave a verbal warning but the zombies kept coming - so he fired a shot. Then another. Red blasts streaked through the dimly lit street. He knew he hit some but they didn't stop. Narrowing his eyes, Bane backed away.


[ooc: Let me know if anything needs changing, etc. Hope this is OK!]

[dirtyredneck]

If he had to have the goddamn power, it would be great if it actually worked and didn't leave him feeling like he was twiddling his damn thumbs. Was like the damn dead were fighting him the whole time. Pulling teeth, but not any of the ones he needed pulled.

"It's gotta be the brain," Daryl called out as an arrow streaked past Cad's shoulder and into the eye socket of the lead psudo-walker, dropping it and making it twitch. It wouldn't keep it down forever, but it'd slow it down good.

"Ain't real walkers, but close enough," he explained as he came up beside the strange cowboy. "Sabriel said we gotta drag 'em into running water or sunlight to really do the trick. But this'll make that a whole lot easier."

He loaded another bolt and took aim, then glanced over, "You do know how ta aim, don't ya?"


[[ooc: it's great! sorry for the delay, life happened. Trying to get back into it. :) ]]

Heropa: early July;

[am_i_a_monster]

Nights are hard for Abigail. The fear of having a nightmare is almost as bad as the actual dreams. She decides to go out for a walk to clear her mind. She makes her way down random streets, not having any destination in mind, simply trying to think about anything besides bad memories. The sound of fighting nearby pulls her from her thoughts. It's not the distraction she wants, but it something. She follows the sound, hiding in a nearby alley.

When the winged man emerges from the building, her first thought is to run. She notices the child in his arms and that stops her from fleeing. Her own past has given her a sympathy for children in trouble. "Hey." She calls out and walks up to the man slowly, not wanting to be seen as a threat. "Does the kid need help? I can heal people at my house. It's not far."

Re: Heropa: early July;

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl, trying to keep his new charge safe, brought one of those softly-glowing wings around to block the woman's approach to the kid should she try to attack. She couldn't see his eyes narrowing at her suspiciously, but his body language said more than enough about how wary he was.

"Are you an imPort?" he asked in a low tone, voice distorted by a modulator in his mask. Made it sound strangely wispy and a little raw. Somewhere in the middle of the assumed 'men' and 'women' ranges.



[[ooc: sorry for the delay, life happened. Trying to get back into it. :) ]]

[am_i_a_monster]

"Yes." Abigail answers. "I kind of figured you are too." The wings had given it away, even before she was close enough to get a good look at the mask. "I'm just gonna show you my tattoo." She tells him, not wanting to startle a man already clearly suspicious of her. Life was dangerous enough without deliberately provoking a fight. She rolls up her sleeve just enough to show the glowing registered tattoo on her wrist. "Is the kid okay?"

[dirtyredneck]

The tattoo was a good thought on her part. He didn't relax, exactly, but the wing moved a little as he shifted the kid to get a more comfortable grip. The kid, for his part, wrapped his arms more tightly around Daryl's neck. He clearly trusted the man, but was unsure of everything else. Was maybe somewhere around ten years old at best.

"Malnourished. Been stuck with a few needles. Otherwise whole," he answered as he turned his head to make sure no one else was around. "Your place far?"

de chima; (cartwheels onto this cr wearing a clown mask)

[pillz]

[kavinsky has been doing an excellent job of making little difference at all in the grand scheme of chaos in this world. bunkered down most of the time. a couple of exceptions: he did catch his own clone and donate it to science. and take a couple of pot shots at some long-distance zombies at some point, but he didn't want to ding the paint on his ferrari. after all, he's been rehabilitating his reputation ever since a) the nightmare plague, and b) dr. chilton brainwashed him some, for great justice, and greater personal happiness.

it's worked out pretty well. but he hasn't really run into people he'd known before much, aside from the constellation and a few sexually confusing teenage boys. thus

daryl will probablyyyy react badly!! when kavinsky comes walking through the grocery store from the opposite direction, pushing a cart containing five salad ingredients, and starts to stare at daryl rather intensely. they hadn't met in person since the shit with extremis. kavinsky looks different these days, dressed in argyl and khakis, but those subtle differences are probably lost on our local redneck zombie killer.]

[dirtyredneck]

[Had Daryl spent any time with the kid beyond their sole meeting, he may have thought something odd about the changes. But he didn't know enough about him to be able to say it wasn't just the ever changing whim of a trend-obsessed teen. What did set the redneck off, though, was the staring.

Daryl's eyes narrowed in suspicion and discomfort before he snapped out:]

What?


[[ooc: sorry for the delay, life happened. Trying to get back into it. :) ]]

wbee

[pillz]

Not a lot. I'm grocery shopping, [says kavinsky, rolling his cart to a stop. he settles his arms on top of the handlebar, his narrow shoulders stooping slightly, which makes him look relaxed.

he does not feel relaxed. daryl looks like a pitbull. he looks like the kind of pitbull that gives pitbulls a bad reputation. nobody wants to fight a pitbull, even if you actually like them as dogs and think people should stop knocking them around and mistreating them.] Do I know you from someplace? Sorry if that's a weird question, my memory's been in and out because of some meds.

[it's true. and for once, he doesn't merely ask if at some point in the past (kavinsky would be so lucky) they'd boned.]

[dirtyredneck]

[The question took Daryl aback for a second and he had to reassess his thoughts on the kid. Medication could do a lot.

After a second of awkward silence he gulped and nodded, the agitation fading.]

I guess, yeah. We met once. Think it's been almost a year. Only really talked that one time, though. You checked out a phone for me and then left.

[Kavinsky was, indeed, not so lucky.]

Nonah; I hope I'm not too late!

[aberranthubris]

Charles happens to be on his way to home from work when he passes the motorcycle exhibit and happens to spot Daryl on the parking lot. He waves at the man with a bright, sunny smile.

"Daryl!" he calls out, steering his wheels towards him. "How are you, my friend?" It's been too long since he last met up with Daryl over tea. "Are you going to the show?"

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl turned around, surprise at seeing Charles obvious on his face for a few moments before he nodded and ducked his head. Let his hair fall to hide him long enough to compose himself before he looked back up, smiling softly, and nodded.

"Yeah. Figured I'd see what kind of shit people're decking their bikes out with. It's all older models. The non-hover kind. You ride?"

Despite how it may have sounded, the question was genuine. He knew there were ways for people who couldn't walk right to drive cars, so why not a bike?

[[ooc: Not at all! Trying to get back into it myself. :) ]]

[aberranthubris]

"Oh, no. I barely drive a car," Charles admitted. "Or I haven't driven a car since the sixties." There ware ways for people like him to drive a car now. Not so much in the 80's. "And if I'm honest, I never was very good at it." There was a sheepish little smile on his lips that said all there was to it.

"I do understand the aesthetics of them, though."

He looked at Daryl with a searching smile, eyes gentle and curious. "Would you show me around? Or would I be on the way?"