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 Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2012 9:30 pm
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Cetus, despite her guise's unusually preppy style, wore a discomposed frown upon her face. A small while ago, higher-ups sent a simple and straight-laced e-mail giving her an even simpler command:
A recruit will soon reach Zatao. Greet her at XXYY at ZZ:ZZ hours.
The message, received quite too late (the WiFi of her rented apartment sucked), left her barely any time to throw on something, well, persuading. Cetus, master of disguise she claims herself to be, went as natural as possible. A lack of a picture or even a name pissed the known coordinator off, but if she couldn't locate them, finding her would be incredibly easier. Her regular face was known to the world as Mrs. Claramay Pearls. A careful name unlike her real one, her face was the only way to identify her as a Galactic grunt. Everything -- from her history to her actual personality -- was doused under a torrent of lies. The grunt favored fame over her job any day and it was known by letting her features run free.
Cascading into the eatery, Cetus was suddenly bombarded with a plethora of coordinators alike; some unfortunate losers to become fans, others thick-browed faces who frowned in her presence. Both love and dislike were shown and with it, a throng of questions and insults that whirred her head. The grunt was unsure what to make of the crowd. Grunts were meant to be discreet, but was her to-be acquaintance suppose going along with the crowd? Psychologically, it made sense. But, discreetness was the key to standing out in the crowd. Going with the flow showed observation, not a key sign to be located. To remedy her situation, she slid aside and nudged her Liepard before her.
The large feline hissed offensively, driving off the group. Falling to her usual Claramay ways, the grunt shifted a hand to her cheek and chuckled lightly. "Oh, oh, my apologies," she sang as she pulled out her heartstrings and fiddled a modestly threatening tune. "Shea gets defensive when others get too close. Please stay away if you don't want to get hurt!"
As the group fell back, dispersing with a slight tinge of fear, Claramay pulled out her communicator and set it on respond. Hers, tripped out a bit more than the standard issue Team G radios, could send out signal contacting any nearby members. It wasn't a surprising addition (others received the upgrade after a bit of fine tuning), but it was the only way she knew how to obtain a lead.
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Posted: Wed Nov 14, 2012 8:50 pm
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Posted: Wed Nov 14, 2012 9:07 pm
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Cetus felt the youth of her wan epidermis sag as she sidled off to the side and considered herself a wallflower. With the sudden popularity diminished with fright, she was left to her lonesome, and had only her own company to bide time as she waited for whoever the heck she had to meet. Shea followed after her, laying near her ankles a large and motionless beacon silently warning others to stay away. Just as she flipped her communicator close and felt as if patience was mocking her mercilessly, the grunt was approached, and was surprised the voice offered neither a pleading coo for advice or indifferent comment of contempt. 'Twas simple critique, yet, Cetus didn't seem to take well to it.
"Hmm, I guess." was all Cetus responded, as if Gormliath's words were an airborne article flipping and twirling in a hurricane. She had better things to do than starting idle chatter with another coordinator -- especially one she was not acquainted with. Shea mimicked her owner, fluttering one lid up to the blond, than downing it in the same uninterested haste. However, when the other questioned her placing, the interest on the middle aged woman's face grew. She turned her face fully to the other and her mouth cracked into a thin smile. Ah, she had time to gloat. Her favorite past time.
"I placed first," she responded, fixing her face straight again. "With two others. I am hoping for the same results come Motterosa's contest -- save only myself being a winner, of course."
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Posted: Wed Nov 14, 2012 9:37 pm
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Posted: Sat Dec 01, 2012 5:56 pm
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Posted: Sat Dec 01, 2012 6:06 pm
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Posted: Sat Dec 01, 2012 7:32 pm
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Posted: Sat Dec 01, 2012 8:09 pm
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Posted: Sat Dec 01, 2012 8:23 pm
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Cetus granted Gormliath an honest and quite rare small smile. Bounding off toward her typical hotspot for liquor and a buzz, the green-haired gal tilted her head at her companion. "Boat ride, huh?" she inquired, trying to keep some kind of conversation going. "Terrible, I assume? I can't manage boats myself. I get seasick."
The grunt splayed her fingers onto the bar's door and pushed it open, ignoring the little tinkle of the above bell as if it were too familiar a sound. The rotund man at the counter looked up, placing down the crystallize glass in his hand.
"Ah, Clara!" he cried at her familiar face, beckoning her to the bar. " 'S been a while. Busy with coordinatin'?"
"Too busy," Cetus replied, sighing. She can tilted her head in Gormliath's direction. "This is a friend. Mind giving her one on the house?"
"I'll give both a ya." The man answered. "What'll you be havin'?" He asked next, looking expectantly at the blond.
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Posted: Sat Dec 01, 2012 8:53 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 07, 2012 9:34 pm
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Shea maneuvered away from the humans' legs and settled far from the duo to her favorite spot. It was a half-circle window with a ledge cut out near the back of the bar, filtering in parchments of light through haphazard shapes and curdled chips. It wasn't a window to be looked through, mostly for artsy show, and had found a warm spot in the Liepard's heart as a wonderful lounging space.
From her spot, the joint appeared like a stereotypical western saloon. Framed, stained sepia photographs lined the topper-most level above the bar as did a few belt buckles and empty bottles of brandy and whisk. The side wall was dedicated to game; a rack of Stantler antlers, woolen tapestries of Mareep fuzz, and countless retired firearms marred every inch of the wall. There wasn't any music playing, but a retro jukebox buzzed in the corner with fluorescent lining. It looked a bit more modern with its lack of vinyls traded for CDs, but still held the classic model style and flow. All in all, Hagin's place was a mundane dump in the middle of Katarina.
Hagin, the bartender, tipped her Gormliath with a salute and sidled away from the two. He knew Cetus's usual. It was all she ever drank at his joint. Cetus rolled her eyes toward the reply. "Typical," she said, shaking her head in empathy. "There's a key difference between boys and men, of course. Men are easier to deal with."
Her lips pursed at the observation. "It's true," she replied with a just nod. "A lot is a bit of understatement. Take every time before a mission. Yea, I've been doing crap for Team G for a long while, but I still get the jitters for fear of screwing up."
Hagin returned with a mug and a tall, lacquered class of an almost too innocent looking alcoholic drink. Even Cetus blinked at the given order, questioning its truth. "Are you sure that's alcoholic?" she said in mild jest. "It looks like a dessert."
Hagin chuckled with her. "Aye, settle down. 'Ere ya go."
Cetus's usual looked too typical too. It was simply a mug of watered down tea. Still, she sipped it casually and sighed with content. "Everything goes good with a shot of brandy," she remarked aloud and Hagin nodded in approval, huffing out another chuckle.
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Posted: Wed Jan 02, 2013 8:04 pm
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