Welcome to Gaia! ::

(Entering from Silver Kingdom.)

"I heard it too and I'm sober as all get out." Gertrude had been through so much lately that she actually would've liked to be drunk as a skunk right now. Perhaps it was to her benefit that she wasn't. It let her be lucid enough to know what she had just seen and heard wasn't the product of a drunken stupor. Earlier, she had heard someone talking about a voice and now, she was hearing someone refer to him or herself -- itself? -- as The Voice. She thought it was too convenient to be a coincidence. "I don't like this."

Po didn’t even look at him when he handed the phone back, she was distracted by… was that a knife? Seems fighting amongst themselves was common. He shrugged and started to make his way back over to Olivia where the medic was finishing patching her up.

Then darkness enclosed and the voice spoke, causing him to freeze on the spot.

Why was the voice demanding tribute? Demanding and taking everything? He could adapt, sure. That wasn’t the point. But… there was no assurance that at the end of the game, even if he was on the winning team, the voice wouldn’t just crush them all anyway. It was supposed to protect them, right? This wasn’t protection, this was… annihilation. And he was not going to die. He never gambled with anything he didn’t want to lose, not unless he knew he would win.

On top of that, he had just lost his cover story. To share their lost like that… and so publicly! Was it publicly? He heard drunk voices in the casino, reacting to the same vision he had. He knew he was sober; this had to be all real. He… he needed to get back to silver kingdom. “those few survivors who remain will fight for Kings or find themselves with the same fate.” He didn’t want to be anyone’s pawn. He wanted his freedom. He would only adapt when he felt like adapting. He would play for the long term, but he wasn’t sure the long term was left. His hands wrapped around his stomach, clutching at his sides. How long did he have left until the miasma ran dry? Minutes? Hours? Days? He didn’t want to die. But to adapt now, he might wind up on the losing team. This bunch looked cutthroat enough… but he just didn’t know. He tried to force himself to think to train his thoughts on survival.

He had to survive, no matter what. And survival meant not only being on the winning team but defeating the voice. Defeating god? How did he do that? Perhaps… the answer was only attainable by going back. It wasn’t a phone number… but what was it? Could someone here know? Would they be able to win? His only way to find out was to show his hand. If they would help him after his little cover up. Now if only he could stop shaking. And then the chair suddenly exploded, disrupting the sudden quiet, sending him hightailing it towards the main door.

((Someone please catch him. He’s a little scared out of his mind right now.))

At first, she had wondered if the Confusing Doctor Man's analysis of her head's condition had been off. There were trumpets in her head, and the kind of fanfare she would have heard on Market Day. But then ... it turned out not like Market Day even when the musical voice filled her head with such words.

But as the Voice cleared and even without turning her head, it became apparent that she wasn't the only one that had heard it. And only great sadness took over her, she dared not to cry but Olivia was so very close to it. She didn't care that their cover story had been blown, all that mattered that their Kingdom was truly done. The collapse had torn it apart and there was no going back. She was stuck in this place. She was separated from the few she knew, her home, her little cart, her collections and her cleaning job. It was gone and she could too if she did not fight for a new home, that wouldn't be home.

Unsure if it was even a wise idea to move, Olivia bowed her head and willed the tears not to fall as she squeezed the barrette still in her uninjured hand tightly.

Cee had been brought to the king and as a small smile had just been hinting at her lips, mouth parting to speak when The Voice came to them all. As it swept them away, brought them to nothing, and then back to the real world, Concetta's normal confidence seemed to be momentarily shattered.

Damn.

She glanced at Candace then back at Harrison, a lost look flitting across her eyes before she pulled herself back together. "Well. That's that." She glanced at her hands and wondered perhaps if her silver miasma was already fading. Would these people allow her to dissolve away into nothingness.

"I'm quick. I'm adaptable." She smiled, "I can twist things, I can fight." In fact she liked to fight. She probably liked it more than was appropriate. She'd showed up here with nothing more than golden jewelry and her wits. It was how she lived her life. She traded truths, goods, lives for her own benefit. "You know us Silvers can meld to your needs." And after a moment she dropped to her knees, fealty for a King was only appropriate. "Without a kingdom I'll fade. We all heard The Voice." Her head bowed, "Let me join you, please."

She, of course, needed him more than he needed her. At least that's what Concetta thought. But perhaps bodies were more valuable to the King than she realized.

Ferros was a large, broad-shouldered man; most people assumed he was slow, physically or mentally. This was not the case. He nodded at Harrison's command and followed the fleeing Silver, catching up with Andrew no more than a few steps outside the door. One big hand reached out to catch the back of the man's shirt, like scruffing a dog.

"Excuse me, sir," Ferros said politely. "The Boss would prefer you stick around for now."

"Thanks. Okay. Have a seat," Harrison said, tossing her a blue pill bottle before looking her over before making a decision.

"This may sting a little," he repeated, swabbing the area and aiming the gun at her bicep.

B0nez had been doing all the speeches earlier. Harrison made the attempt.

"So, uh, you're...you know. Not from around here. But you got the info we need, so- uh, now you're family and s**t. And looks like B0nez programmed you up a...bird. Probably- a hawk," he interpreted gruffly. It wasn't a hawk. "which are...real strong and uh...fly a lot."

Metaphors weren't Harrison's best subject.

B0nez would have said something about their ability to break a guy's arm with their wings.

Cee: (Knight) Swan

Cee smirked, amused almost, as Andrew attempted to flee. At least with her effort to step up she was being rewarded for it.

"Thank you, ah, sir." She sat with him and watched carefully as the tattoo was marked on her skin. A rank. A knight. Made for fighting. She approved even if the mark looked more like a swan than a hawk.

Don't debate it. He's the boss!

The young woman made it a few steps before everything inside of her twisted. She grunted, tripping toward the bar and leaning on it heavily. So this was what it was like to have your miasma change? To her, the world merely went blue. She felt like she was torn in two directions but after moments of turmoil and gut twisting she felt..... cool. Better. A comforting feeling of settling in.

"Oh.." Her hands slid to her hips, now clad in a slinky cocktail dress. Her dark hair was clipped back on one side and fell down in waves. All of her assets simply popped in this get up.

And she finally got some shoes. *o*

"Mmmm." Cee glanced beside her where another woman leaned. She knew her somehow. They were a complete pair. The woman was gaunt, very unattractive, clad in a black pantsuit and with an odd lipstick choice of vine green.

All Concetta could do was wave her arms in glee and toss herself on her companion in a hug. This was immediately followed by leaping on Candace in a hug.

Why? Cause she was there.