Ｈｅｉ (Ｌｉ Ｓｈｅｎｓｈｕｎｇ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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poly_chromatic2012-09-15 07:42 am
mortemscintilla) wrote in poly_chromatic2012-09-15 07:42 am
Entry tags:
♦ ♦ 7th Contract
[ 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 toinfuriate distract him. ]
Options For Run-Ins:
[ Cafe Satine: There's a spring in his step as he buses tables and does kitchenwork. Hands and feet moving in easy rhythm with the music floating from the speakers. He doesn't realize how bad it is until he's sweeping eggshells off the tiles -- and starts Turbo Dancing with his broom. Customers and employees stare. Li blushes and stammers apologies. ]
[ Inside, he grits his teeth. This is going to be a bothersome shift. ]
[ Evening Stroll: He's tried staying at his apartment. But ticking paired with dancing is disorienting. When his pirouettes transform into actual cartwheels, resulting in a crack when his foot hits the thin wall, he exits hurriedly. Walking the nighttime streets, he forgoes drinks at the bar for cool air and starry skies. Few pedestrians. Not too much traffic. Taking an inventory of his surroundings, he almost relaxes. ]
[ Until music spills from a nearby bar. ]
[ Passersby form a loose circle as he goes through his sweeping routine. The City seems to enjoy cursing him with solos. The implications don't escape him. ]
[ Nor does the annoyance. ]
[ Recon: Cursed or not, he refuses to forgo reconnaissance. His movements are a little more balletic. His exits on the wire a little more elaborate. But this is familiar territory, at least. He picks up on marked areas -- Topside and Underground. For the most part, time passes smoothly. But in the shadow of Pandora's, he spots a crime mid-scene. A group of toughs have lured three drunk people, young women in flowery dresses, into the darkness off the street. ]
[ It'a not his job to save them. Let the Police deal with it. ]
[ But he could use the combat-practice. So in he swoops, masked and armed. Music from the club muffles the attacker's howls as he breaks their extremities. It isn't until he's knocked them out, snapping at the terrified women to run, Without those damn heels, that the curse returns. ]
[ ...Work dat booty, Mr. 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 ]
[ 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
Options For Run-Ins:
[ Cafe Satine: There's a spring in his step as he buses tables and does kitchenwork. Hands and feet moving in easy rhythm with the music floating from the speakers. He doesn't realize how bad it is until he's sweeping eggshells off the tiles -- and starts Turbo Dancing with his broom. Customers and employees stare. Li blushes and stammers apologies. ]
[ Inside, he grits his teeth. This is going to be a bothersome shift. ]
[ Evening Stroll: He's tried staying at his apartment. But ticking paired with dancing is disorienting. When his pirouettes transform into actual cartwheels, resulting in a crack when his foot hits the thin wall, he exits hurriedly. Walking the nighttime streets, he forgoes drinks at the bar for cool air and starry skies. Few pedestrians. Not too much traffic. Taking an inventory of his surroundings, he almost relaxes. ]
[ Until music spills from a nearby bar. ]
[ Passersby form a loose circle as he goes through his sweeping routine. The City seems to enjoy cursing him with solos. The implications don't escape him. ]
[ Nor does the annoyance. ]
[ Recon: Cursed or not, he refuses to forgo reconnaissance. His movements are a little more balletic. His exits on the wire a little more elaborate. But this is familiar territory, at least. He picks up on marked areas -- Topside and Underground. For the most part, time passes smoothly. But in the shadow of Pandora's, he spots a crime mid-scene. A group of toughs have lured three drunk people, young women in flowery dresses, into the darkness off the street. ]
[ It'a not his job to save them. Let the Police deal with it. ]
[ But he could use the combat-practice. So in he swoops, masked and armed. Music from the club muffles the attacker's howls as he breaks their extremities. It isn't until he's knocked them out, snapping at the terrified women to run, Without those damn heels, that the curse returns. ]
[ ...Work dat booty, Mr. 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 ]
action;
[And for the first couple of steps, she continues to fumble around. Though she's more agile than she looks and soon works out a way to keep herself from falling while moving around the foxtrot. It's not his fault, she knows, yet the surprise stays on her face.]
action;
I'm so sorry about this!
[ Customers are staring at them. He avoids their gazes, taking her through the steps, their feet occasionally colliding. Hoping, hoping this interlude ends. Fast. ]