Saying the Police Force isn't sufficient at our job when we're mostly comprised of HUMAN officers is unfair enough. Saying we don't do our job when no one even contacted us? Goes beyond that. That's when you're just being a whiny asshole.

So, instead of being one, how about next time something happens you, the citizens, call us up, huh?

I'm Setsuna Mudou, and I give you full permission to call me, message me, anything, next time something goes down. I can actually do something about the more supernatural happenings, like the fire that happened the other day. You need to keep us up to speed, though. We're all just individuals and can't be everywhere all the time.



[ooc: He's got an OOC post for planning, too.]

[ The ticking is a grinding migraine. ]

[ It's like a repeat of his time in The Gate. The absence of rational coordinates making him tense and queasy. His dreams are sporadic, but so vivid that sometimes he awakens to real images of enemies and blood-splattered walls. He misses Pai, but that missing is immense enough to constitute a whole atmosphere. His state of being. In that state, he thinks of others, most of them unexpected. Yin, for her light laconic presence and how simple she'd make reconnaissance. Huang, whose gruff practicality filled him with both irritation and respect. Mao, who was probably everything good about a Contractor (even if he was a terrible cat.) ]

[ They weren't friends. But they'd accepted each other as a team. ]

[ Here, he hasn't taken the steps to turn acquaintances into associates. It serves no purpose. Not unless they have something he wants. But most are in the same position as him. Trapped, at the Deities' mercy.  He keeps no social circles. No girlfriends -- he can sum up his 'romantic' encounters here on his fingers. Hour by hour, he postpones the question: What am I going to do here? ]

[ He should at least get a pet. Something to stave off the ticking. ]

[ Until then, this curse is effective enough to infuriate distract him. ]

Options For Run-Ins:

( φ Cafe Satine (Li) )

( ∉ Evening Stroll (Li) )

( ∅ Recon (Black Reaper) )

[ OOC: Putting a different spin on the dancing curse! Feel free to run into any of his personas. He may grab you and twirl you -- before flustering and babbling as 'Li', or shove you away/knock you out as 'The Black Reaper.' The dance hilarity for the last option starts at 0:20 xDD ]

[ Seated on a park bench, reading, Mae looks up, turns backward when a familiar if elusive voice invades her personal space, coupled with a polite hand tapping her shoulder. At the same time, the device ends up on his jacket, perched neatly on the back of the bench too, its intermittent flash of red light indicating RECORDING TO NETWORK. ]

Got a promise to keep, don't I?

[ Arthur asks and extends his hand to her. A moment's deliberation later Mae closes her book and accepts said hand, ready to step over the back, but Arthur stops her with a hand that smooths from her shin to her ankle, an affectionate politeness somehow. Then he lifts her off the bench's back entirely, spins with her once before setting her down and the long owed daaaaaaaaaance really begins. ]



[ooc: okay so the dance is basically what happens after JGL lifts Zooey off of the bank counter and sets her down, all of course taking place in the park instead of swapping sites. At the end when Zooey is anti-gravitying her way back to standing upright behind the counter, instead imagine Arthur helping her back up over the bench, kneeling using his knee as a step up :3 wherein the device cuts off because he knocks it finally falls off the bench. Practice makes perfect and all that!]

I can't wear this.

[This, my friends, is a statement, haughtily intoned as Berthier plucks at the costume she's pulled on. She does look emphatically disgusted with it.]

This is a sack. A sack with a bib, I look like I'm expecting to give birth.

[She gives another irritated motion.]

And what absolute fool would think this color would be flattering on me? Can you not see how pale my complexion is? What idiot is responsible for this travesty?

[She carries on fuming for a moment, and then.]

I can't wear it. I won't. Find me something else. Immediately.

[Or there will be hell to pay.]

[Well, Mindy sure looks annoyed. She's glaring at the camera as she speaks, arms crossed over her chest and she's wearing a ball gown. Yep. Cursed.]

My dance partner sucks. I want a new one. How hard is it to take into consideration I'm barely fifty inches tall and he's a fucking giant? He keeps stepping on my feet and bitching about me being in his way.

[This is actually bullshit. Andrew Ryan is an excellent dancer. She's just being a brat. She's That Kid at the beauty pageants who everyone ends up hating because they're a snot.]

I've seen rocks with better dance skills.

[And she turns the feed off, but not before a trace of a smirk is caught on video.]

There's snow for a minute and then bright light and the device is apparently on the ground tilted a little up and askew.  You can see blades of grass and beyond that, a tall, scruffy looking man with his hair sticking up as though he hasn't brushed it since he got up, in jeans and a t-shirt, looking down at a small woman who seems enthusiastic.  He runs his hands through his hair making it look even worse if that's possible and holds out a hand.  There's talking but it's hard to hear from the distance the device is at. Whatever they've said, she beams up at him and steps up on his feet and takes his hand.

Somewhere there are strains of music though it's hard to make out as he begins to move, picking up the steps to the dance after a moment of thought.  She comes up to his chest and looks childlike, standing on his shoes like that but seems to be having fun regardless and he's looking a little amused by the whole thing as they twirl.   Neither of them seems to notice the device is on. 

The video flickers and fuzzes in and out when they twirl closer and then promptly goes black again.

[The video comes on with the device resting on a table, as Wilson - wearing a loose t-shirt and jeans, a far cry indeed from the button-downs, ties, and dress pants one may be more accustomed to seeing him wearing - is standing nearby, being measured. One arm, then the other, then his shoulders, he moves and shifts, turning as the stylists working on him request.

Because this man, fresh out of rehearsals, is getting fitted so they can alter his new suit for tomorrow's big show.

As they finish that off, he steps to the side and scoops up his device. Just before he turns it off, a question for the stylists can be heard.]

Now, my accent color is definitely going to match her dress, right? I mean, of course you know how they are about visual presentation.


[ooc: So... so cursed.]

[A short clip, unintentional; a brave NPC seems to think Sif is his designated partner for the tango, so he catches her on her way home from a stroll. Starting position is as far as he goes.]

Refrain. [Afterwards, the device seemingly falls to the ground; the sounds of a struggle follow, albeit a pacific one, and then hurried steps: someone running away. The feed turns off.]

AUDIO; PUBLIC

[Not even five minutes later; there's only the silence the interior of a home can offer, and her clipped tone.] I do not dance. Just to make it clear.

Whether I can or cannot is an entirely different matter, but the important detail here is that I choose not to. Your Midgardian dances are strange and the hands of men who have imposed a dance on me thus far get too clammy for my tastes.

If this is a curse, I will await its ending where I do not risk offense. I advise whoever intends to visit to heed my warning.

[The feed ends.]

[ooc; Very unaffected.]

Dance competition, huh...? I haven't danced in... quite a few months. I did always enjoy ballroom dancing. I'd enter but alas I have no one as my partner...

[He lets out a melancholy sigh, twirling a pencil between his fingers. This is one of the few times he doesn't care if he dances with a woman. GASP. Not that he'll outwardly say it.]

And while it's been a week or so, I figured I should announce that Jack-er... Raiden left the City. You know, the handsome man who looked very similar to myself. I checked his apartment and then the Hall of Missing, in which I found his picture.

It was a nice painting. I decided to replicate it for myself. Perhaps I should drop by there more for some drawing practice.