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Garrus Vakarian
07 September 2012 @ 06:38 pm
Calibration 52 [accidental video]  
[After a week of absense, Garrus awakens in his apartment. The bandage is finally gone from his face, but he still has major scarring.

He sits up and looks around, then sighs.]

Here again. Of course I am.

[He rubs his hands over his face. Probably hard to tell with turians, but he seems even more down than he usually does.]

[OOC: Garrus is all caught up with canon now.]
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Lucy Locke
07 September 2012 @ 11:17 pm
[ Video] In an unlocked place the only time I feel safe  
[Lucy comes into view of the screen, bottom lip caught between her teeth. She's got the device propped up on the island in her kitchen]

Morning [She is all giddy smiles. She scoots out of the screen, pans it around a bit to show breakfast prepared and laid out on the island: waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, grits, bacon and eggs. She bends to the side back into the frame.]

Come on. We're going to wake up Pavel.

[She pads barefoot through the house. She's wearing one of Chekov's shirts. It's not terribly loose on her and only hits the tops of her thighs. There's the squeak of the door as she nudges it open; the lights are dimmer here and the bed, at first glance is a muddle of blankets, pillows and a body. She carries the device over to the side of the bed, placing it carefully on the nightstand before she bends over and presses a kiss to Chekov's cheekbone.]

Come on, Slick. Breakfast is getting cold.

(ooc: Chekov and Lucy are cursed with Family Day. They think they're recently married and possibly on a reality show. Or maybe that's just Lucy. Replies to come from both parties.)
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(carolena) lady of sorrows
07 September 2012 @ 11:58 pm
034 x 430 // text // plan your own...  
[She trashed the apartment this morning. The anxiety mounted above and beyond what could she could handle, that knot of glass and tar inside of her chest unbearable, the crying inside of her head pulsating too heavily. It's been building there, behind her eyes and deep in her stomach and lungs, for weeks now. She's been counting down to this day, or maybe it's been creeping up to her. Climbing over her, choking her.

The wreckage is inevitable, furniture overturned and porcelain shards scattered across the floor. Her dog is clawing at the bathroom door now, and for some reason that she doesn't understand, she has this to share with the network,]

CAROLENA MARÍANNA MORIR
09/08/1986 — 03/26/2011
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR .


[[ooc; This post is a catchall for Carla's suicide. This is a blanket trigger warning for the entirety of this post and any comments that may follow. She will answer any network comments, but it will be timelined to before her final episode. Action from folks involved in this fiasco are welcome, as well as any initial visitors on Sunday (it takes 24 hours for the dead to wake up.)

By the way, it's her birthday. She's 30 today.]]
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