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 Posted: Sun Mar 12, 2017 3:30 pm
Testing newfound agility came with passing conversations, Faustite found. With his burgeoning ability to crown rooftops, he found far better means of avoiding detection when eavesdropping on quiet exchanges. The Negaverse offered strength and speed for crossing the great dearths between buildings, for landing without much effort. He could follow across the long parapets without breaking a swet or forcing himself into a sprint. And when he needed to sprint, if ever he found the need to try and tail a car, he discovered an easier time of keeping the vehicle in sights before it inevitably disappeared.
But the hours ticked on quickly, and soon Faustite exhausted the better part of the night in listening to whispers of scorned lovers or leaning in on conversations about booming business and plummeting stock. he spent far too long looking over body language and nervous habits. The earliest hours of the morning approached, and all he managed for the night was observance of yet another mistaken brawl in a misplaced bar on a mismatched street.
And he knew the folly of his preference for spectatorship. He should engage, he should strike up conversation, drain where he could. The Negaverse needed energy in great droves - tithes paid by the unknowing populace of Destiny City. He needed to hold down a victim just long enough for them to pass out, as the one corrupted senshi demonstrated earlier. All these indications swam for an understanding that he wasn't doing his job, but as a boy raised within the sterile capsule of socialite life, he knew nothing of interjecting himself into any of these situations. He knew to drain a drunk, but how when he had no business chatting with them? Confrontation alone proved his greatest hurdle.
The procrastination of his duties found new excuses, however, when he felt some niggling familiarity crest the horizon. He knew not what it was, or where it was, or how it was, but Faustite surmised a vague directionality behind the feeling. He shifted into a trot then, and half-expected the sensation of a dark star to leave him behind.frayedflower looking for an amphi! lmk if anything needs changing!
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Posted: Mon Mar 13, 2017 6:51 am
She was in the midst of draining someone when she felt the prickle of an ally approaching. Her hand lingering around the throat of the poor soul who'd been unfortunate enough to try his luck that night, suspending him in the air even though he'd already since gone limp. But with the prospect of someone approaching, someone who felt small, maybe even new, the corners of Amphitrite's lips curled into a smile as she tucked away the orb of energy she'd gathered. The man dropped to the ground with a dull thud as if boneless, and the corrupt super did not bother not shoot him so much as a second glance as she turned in the direction of the rapidly approaching energy signature. There, she waited, crossing her arms over her chest.
True. She had not been as active lately as she should have been, although she had been attending to her basic duties just fine. Amphitrite knew she could, no, should be doing more, she was just - sorting some things out. That was all. She couldn't afford to jeopardize the mission, after all.
Which, unfortunately, meant that she was sorely out of the loop when it came to the new recruits. That much was easily rectified though, wasn't it? "Hurry along now, darling, I haven't got all night, " she called playfully, not really expecting a response.
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Posted: Tue Mar 14, 2017 2:33 pm
Faustite himself wasn't expecting a hail. The Negaverse proffered many oddities, from supernatural ability to unique training consequences, but he knew little of the people who made up the ranks. His mother often cautioned about sussing out the right person to woo, about seeking the fond eye of those who held power. If she knew, she would invite him to cozy up to Umber, to Chrysocolla. To anyone who spoke of power and authority. But those were her wishes - not his.
And while Faustite found little taste for nepotism, he did speed himself at command. The distant officer made plain that she found little time for chat in the midst of her duties, so his questions would need quickening, much like his feet. And Faustite still suffered somewhat from the precarity of falls, of descending buildings, of trusting his weight to dumpster lids long before he tested them. But he tried where he could, and expedience forced him further than his caution would suggest. Still, little came of this light foray into danger - no roofs collapsed and no dumpsters caved in to leave him a terribly undesirable display for the other officer. He took to the street with a quicker pace - one that, hopefully, made up for the previous failures in descending at a proper speed.
Faustite slowed when he approached her, and found her dressed far differently than the previous agents she encountered. His mother would call her a hussy and pass judgment before the agent even opened her mouth. But Faustite was uncertain - he knew nothing of whether uniforms were made to reflect the agent's personality, or simply came of magical happenstance. Maybe she dressed in such a manner because she had no other choice. Winters in Destiny City promised a deep chill, after all.
The slumped man was noticed, too; Faustite wondered if his starseed now lingered somewhere on her person. He wondered what threads were cut short there, if any. Maybe he would wake up in this dreary district, cold and alone, and add another reason to his fear of leaving the house.
"Faustite," he prefaced as he slowed his approach. Farms folded behind his back in formality even as he still panted to catch his breath. "These duties we're given aren't much for parallels in the normal world. Sapping a man's very life isn't something to take lightly. If you have time for this, would you explain - how are you able to draw someone's life away like that? How can you step through all the games of social cues while filling a quota?" The word tasted sour for its removal from the consequences, and Faustite resisted the urge to bristle at its sound.
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Posted: Sat Mar 18, 2017 7:15 am
Well. Fancy that! She did get a response! Well, more or less. Amphitrite was immediately tickled by the approach of the lieutenant, something that was sister to both smile and smirk etching its way across her lips as he tucked himself into a delightfully formal little pose. She wondered who had taught him that one, or if anyone had at all. Some people were more prone to picking up little gestures like that than others, weren't they?
"A boy who knows what he wants, " she hummed thoughtfully as she took a few steps closer to him (and right over the poor sap on the ground), sizing him up this way and that. Was he young? Could be. He seemed young, but appearances and greenness could be deceptive. "I can get behind that." Or under it, her tongue longed to purr out of habit, but she abstained for now. Amphitrite wasn't in the market for that sort of game tonight. Not yet, anyway. "Amphitrite. It's a pleasure, Faustite."
Although it was a bit troubling that someone would be fresh enough to ask such a thing and still be allowed to patrol of his own, she chose instead to see the glass half-full and embrace the fact that he was taking the time and interest on his own to ask. "Of course I've got the time, honey. Any time you need, " and she felt that she could make good on such a promise now as she extended her hand for him to take, her smile warmer and more inviting. "Walk with me?"
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Posted: Tue Mar 21, 2017 7:36 am
She looked him over in a way he knew since childhood - a scrutiny naked to the eye, a scrutiny performed by those unafraid to let the world know what they wanted. Usually only the powerful dared to let their interest show. His mother would have approved. All he needed to do was play the game he was taught, recite the song and dance, lick heels until his performance passed inspection. He almost smiled.
She offered her name, and the choice struck him as unusual. Often he needed to earn facts like names, personal preferences. Here, she met him on an even exchange without demand of further performance. Interesting. Faustite never minded the change, especially when he need not grovel for it. Faustite nodded shortly to her request-command, and passed a last glance toward the prone form. Unconscious or dead, he couldn't decide. The presence of it weighed on him, grated him. Of course, he reminded himself, mankind worsened with power. These were expectations placed on every officer. Given time, would he be any better?
Or worse?
The senshi walked proud, he knew. She stood tall, confident, exuded self-satisfaction with every breath. Not once had he met a Negaverse agent uncertain of themselves. With the powers they held, would there be anyone or anything to stand as challenge to their might? "I was raised on blending in," he offered as preface. "But what the Negaverse asks breaks every social construct I know of. Draining someone dry just begs for the police, and my CO lacks the social grace to give suggestions. Do you know how to drain energy without causing a stir? Most ways I've heard suggested just beg for the cops to come down like flies on a corpse." Faustite couldn't figure it to any extent; no part of his natural behavior included touching others, and yet he was expected to for energy draining. How did anyone do it?
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