[network] 💟︎ · video

[dragony]

I can't believe the Synod is coming so soon!

[ The video opens on Ruka, sweetheart of White City, broadcasting from somewhere in that obnoxious penthouse of hers. She's not focused on the camera, though: she's busy applying shadow to her single visible eyelid, her attention on a mirror out-of-frame. ]

It's going to be so nice to see everyone under one roof again. I mean, I'm not really interested in all the political talk, so puh-lease don't bore me. I just want to see my friends again— [ —blending that shadow— ] —and, oh... maybe take a quick night-trip somewhere fun afterward? It's been a while since I've put a casino in the red.

Oh, but before I forget... there is something serious I wanted to talk about. [ Here she looks at the camera and smiles— ] I know, right? [ —but there is a bit more focus than you'd usually see in that vapid expression. ] A couple nights ago I lost something very important to me.

I lost a blue bracelet.

[ As she says it, a bead of light pops into existence. It glows a certain shade of blue. Once formed, the bead of light begins spinning quickly around Ruka's wrist, blurring enough that it shifts between looking like a physical shackle or looking like a blue stain on her skin. It almost looks like a tattoo. ]

It was always pretty ugly, so I never liked wearing it, but I've had it for a long time, and... it has a sentimental value, to me. I would like to get it back. So, if you know anything about it, let me know?

[ Finally, the light vanishes, and she points her makeup brush at the camera. ]

Now, don't try bartering in my DMs, okay? You'll get buried. If you can't make it to the White City before the Synod, you can meet me there, or let me know where to find you. Thanks~

Love ya! [ after blowing a kiss to the camera, she blots the lens with her brush, and the feed ends. ]





[ This video is a open broadcast that can be seen by any faction that allows wider network access. ]

Comments

lmk if this is too much making stuf up

[pillz]

[it is a safe place to start. kavinsky studies the girl. this version of her seems a little less -- interesting than the one who'd somehow had 'sentimental attachment' to a 'material object' (absurd). sometimes 'less interesting' is better for one's health, at the white tower.

but he is by no means about to make the stretch to 'quantum leapers from an alternate dimension.' at worst, he thinks she's going soft. but that's rare, for someone who's less involved with the uglier, more violent underbelly of the tower.]

You're doing both. C'mon.

[in the meantime, the tortoiseshell cat wanders over to ruka. the animal might well sense this version of the woman is different, but fortunately, its master is not a kitty telepath.

kavinsky instead motions ruka toward the spiral staircase heading down by the massive window.] Looks like she actually wants you to pick her up this time, [he observes, casually.] If you ain't scared of another scratch, you should do it.

ur good

[dragony]

If she wants to scratch, isn't that still your fault?

[ there are at least a couple things that remain consistent. the other ruka, the one this kavinsky knows, might not be as good with animals as she is — that girl probably hasn't had to inherit as many exPort-orphaned pets, at least — but the affinity remains. they're always going to get along better with monsters than with humans, no matter how much effort she might expend trying otherwise, and cats... well, of all the little beasts, they're the most like the monsters she's known.

they've both had to face lions. she can handle a calico.

so — maybe it's a trap, maybe it's not, but if this is what snares her, then so be it. ruka gives the cat a moment to inspect the odor of her fingers, acclimate to the pressure of her hand stroking its ear and its cheek, and then... scoops right up, supported against her chest and shoulder, loose enough that she can get down without too much collateral damage.

now. downstairs?? ]

[pillz]

Nah. That's your fault or her fault.

[you know how lllads sometimes go downstairs. doomdoomdoomdoomdoom rattling all the way down like the steps owe them money. kavinsky jolts down the steps like that, quickly, one after another. when she follows him, the view of the white city extends down that outrageously tall stretch of window glass.

on the right, the next floor opens out into another level of workshop. down here, huge, translucent holographic glass cylinders encompass specimens of particular note. the first one is a car, white, with a spoiler lifting up high in the back of it, a huge black knife graphic painted over the side.

the cat isn't impressed, obviously. instead it curls up against ruka's chest and mumbles appreciation.]

I dreamed like fifty of those when I was human, [he says, pointing at the car.] The fastest car that physics couldn't make. A kid from school told me I was gonna end the world if I kept going the way I was. Unfortunately, I was off in the head, and pretty into that whole concept. I personally appreciate High Chancellor Stark's dedication to
improving the mental health of the nation.

You know what I mean?

[a drone gives him a finger of whisky in a glass, then moves offer to present ruka with one.]

[dragony]

[ boys... they're always like that, aren't they. she holds the cat and she holds her balance, waiting for kavinsky to finish his attempt to destroy the staircase before she makes her way down. at least the cat is a natural weight to bear; it's been years since she lost her own, and years more since the spirits were taken from her, but it feels like her arms were made to carry little beasts like this.

as she descends, her gaze drifts across the skyline, and across the lab — it seems natural to do it now, with the way the place is set up, and (she hopes) shouldn't look like she's never been here before. the car looks... like the kind of thing her brother would like, if the colors were a bit flashier, or the knife something less... well. less knife-like, at least. those are more her thing.

but when i was human catches her ear more than the rest. if it's a new confession, it's a blandly anticlimactic way to do so; it must be something 'she' should already know. at least the concepts aren't too outlandish. he creates things. dreams them, apparently? that's not uncommon, either — she's known people who could do that, but she doesn't dig for names, and they don't immediately jump to mind.

she shifts the weight of the cat, circling around the cylinder housing the machine. ]

Well, glad you haven't ended this one. [ she takes the whisky. it's probably not poisoned, so— ] So, did you bring the car with you, or did you make a new one when you got here?

[pillz]

New one.

[kavinsky studies the car in its clear cylinder for a long moment. it's actually revolving, very gently. it is: completely over-the-top. very boy.]

I came here just like you. Nothing but the clothes on my back. Well. [a grin like a jackal's grisly smile; he glances at her finally. in her arms, the cat has taken to rubbing its scent glands on the sleeve covering ruka's shoulder.] And the change in our pockets.

And apparently, some kind of nanite bracelet.

[he slips his hands in the pockets in question, and looks at her expectantly.]

[dragony]

[ her thoughts stutter in place — and accelerate without pause. she never said nanites. She never came close to saying that much. she specifically avoided getting that close to the truth. and someone else saying it, someone knowing that much — it would be a relief, if not for the fact she knows he's not in the same position as her.

right?

the way he poked and prodded about it on the network — were his answers just for the sake of a paper trail, and the moment now is revelation? but none of the rest fits. if he knew what it meant, he would know she didn't bring it here. if he knew what it meant, he would know she didn't come here with clothes or pockets or even her own skin.

she sips her drink; she knows how much silence can tell, knows that not reacting is a reaction of its own. she feels the liquor burn the whole way down. ]

Should I take that to mean, you think you've seen it? [ her gaze peels away from the car to kavinsky's face through the glass; her head cants to the side, questioning and wary. ] Or, maybe that you helped steal it to begin with?

[pillz]

You should take that to mean I'm not sure.

[kavinsky looks nonchalant as anything, as he walks deeper into this second floor of the workshop, his reflection sliding around the curved glass that encases the car.

she only needs to follow him a little, before she sees a body in the next glass case. its shape was hidden behind the mitsubishi on first look, but a slightly different angle takes care of that. it's a young man with an aquiline nose, long hair. he looks to be asleep -- or dead, laying there, frost shimmering on the glass of his own 'display case.'

if she ever saw john murphy in the old world, this is him. the spitting image. ronan lynch's likeness, but shorter by a solid three, four inches.

and there is, unmistakably, a tattoo on his exposed wrist-- barely visible through the translucency, but there. unsettled.]

I'm a dream thief. [kavinsky turns back to look at her.] Emphasis on both. But I've had some weird fucking dreams lately. Does it count as stealing if I just dreamed about it?

[and suddenly, he's looking straight at her. the cat in her arms goes a little quieter, its body light against her skin.]