dotbox | CALL ME OUT

IDC WHAT SCENARIO OR W/E JUST GIB ME THIS I MISS THEM

"What's not "formal" about denim?" Travis bitched once more, holding up a pair of mostly intact jeans and shaking them at Yukari. Who was probably regretting just about every choice she had made regarding bringing a +1 to the Kirijo Group function. But potentially none half as much as declaring that she would do the unthinkable.

And get Travis motherfucking Touchdown, wrestling aficionado, professional video game protagonist, and all around fashion train wreck, cleaned up and positively fancy looking for the very formal affair.

"Especially this one. It's all fucking bourgeoisie and shit. It's only made from the highest quality..." He paused as he considered, he did not know what jeans were made out of. And as looking for a label would probably hurt his already hobbled and stumbling point, he improvised. "...life fibers?"

Maybe anime was the wrong thing to draw inspiration from.

[I'll figure something out to write.]

[Here you go! One beefcake babe made to order :3]

[Where else is a half-elf, half-human mage supposed to work after graduating top of his class in his local coven and the only family he's ever known? He's too cantankerous to be a local healing mage, too impatient to teach himself, too unskilled socially to serve in a royal court, so what else does one do but quest? It's dangerous as all hell. Alternating between dull periods walking and camping in ruins and caves and life or death battles... at least the pay was nice and he answered to no one except for the people he chose to surround himself with.

It's another period camping and Oscar notes that he rarely speaks to the people he quests with regularly. For many times, he has helped them and they helped him, there hasn't been much conversation that doesn't involve battle. Granted, some of them don't like small talk, and he can't blame them any.

Some are sleeping, others are busy tearing into food, someone has started a nice melody on the lute. The only one that wasn't doing much of anything near the campfire was The Amazon and frankly... he was kind of terrified of her. He's never seen anyone so tall and filled with muscle in his life. She could pick him up just with one hand and break his scrawny self in two for just getting mouthy. (Why does that thought fill him with excitement, he doesn't quite know why.)

He tries to find a reason to talk to her, scooting up beside her.]

Will you mind if I check you for any wounds?

[He knows damn well she didn't get a scratch from the last battle, it's just an excuse to talk to her. (And touch her muscles.) It's bullshit and Oscar knows it, but... if it breaks the ice then it had to work.]

[That was one thing about adventuring. Anyone was welcome to give it a shot. The big and the small, the broad and the slim. From any and all walks of life, be them a penniless beggar looking to find decent coin, or a disguised prince eager to begin their tale of heroism.

And that included her. An amazon, whom introduced herself as much to anyone who approached her. Broad, muscular, powerful, unashamed. When battle happened, she was most often taking things on from the front, either with her mighty axe or her bare hands. And she lived for it. The fighting, the adventuring, and all the downtime between.

Her head lifted as someone approached, turning towards them and away from the fire. Her boisterous and loud personality seemed to, along with her mountain of muscle physique, scare more off than it welcomed during these quiet hours. Not that she minded any, but it was a nice surprise when someone, anyone, approached.

Especially when she was sure she could probably swing that someone around like a club without breaking a sweat. She glanced him up and down, lips curling into a big smile.]

Far bet it for me to send away a compassionate soul. If you'd be so kind, mage.

[She knew damn well there wasn't a scratch on her. But she had no inclination of scaring him off just yet. Shifting in place, she turned to face him proper. Crossing her legs and leaning back, hands pressed to the ground as she set her eyes on him expectantly]

[That went well enough, or maybe she's just more welcoming than he thought she would be. Ethier way, The Amazon is not the intimidating person he'd thought she would be. It's a pretty nice surprise.

He offers his hands, pretty and delicate even in a rugged cave just after a hard-won battle to her. It looks like even though no healing is needed he will still go through the motions of at least pretending like this is for the sake of her health.]

May I see your arm?

[It sounds innocent enough.]

Sure thing.

[She said, adding a nod and leaning forward and extending one of her arms towards him, while resting the other against one of her legs. While she had no reason to suspect him of any sort of ill intention of will, even if he was the type of character to be distrusting of she wouldn't have.

Amazons like here weren't known for duplicity or caution. If someone was going to try and deceive her, let them try. If they failed, she'd spike them into the dirt head first and leave them to die. If they succeeded, she'd do the same thing the first chance she got.]

[Well, that worked well enough. His touch is gentle and light to start with, trying (or pretending) to find a problem area to heal. While this is happening, Oscar is marveling at the feel of her skin, the unique contour of her muscles.]

Do you feel anything?

[As if that changes anything.]

It wasn't everyday that Travis got to strut his stuff and get a fat head around Eda. Even less so that he rightly deserved it. Often times she was all too keen to keep him in check or, ~~even better~~ more realistically, to or under heel. Hey, it was an arrangement that worked for him, and it sure didn't hurt that the view was good no matter where he was parked.

But today, we was getting to show off his expertise. Well, one of them. He was still working on getting her into a latex skintight suit and putting her through the pro-wrestling paces. But he was willing to let that slide in order to show off his bread and butter.

"I couldn't break it down all sciency or shit. But the gist is simple. Swing and hack up fuckin everything."

He was kicked back, beer in hand, smug expression on his face. And in her hands was one of his weapons of choice. A full functioning, hyper lethal, bullet erasing and limb dispatching Beam Katana.

[ooc: Is this a good?]

Eda was never a sword lady, always a gun or some sort of another firearm chick. In her logic, why bother with all that training if in dead-ass serious life or death situations all it comes down to pure skill instead of how powerful the tool is? Nah, she prefers bullets thank you very much. (Plus, she was never trained in swords. Maybe knives, but she's rusty at it.)

But Travis offered to teach her how to wield a Beam Katana which is a pretty unique weapon in the sea of assassins that use custom, extremely unique weapons. (She refuses to get into that sweat-inducing latex for 'wrestling' training, which she's sure it's just an excuse to grab all on her.) For all intents and purposes, Travis shouldn't be a person that knows how to use a weapon like this without slicing his own face off. But somehow... he uses it well.

He knows how to dodge pretty well. She smirks at him, backed into a wall by her kick.

"You know, I assumed that was all you knew how to do with this."

He bounced off the wall, staggering forward off the impact a step before leaning back and up against it. The beer still half full in one hand, and one of the older versions of his arsenal of light up death blades in the other. Not only was he very well versed in the handling of these weapons, he was equally well versed in fighting against them.

"Well, you know what they say about assuming things, right?" He taunted, tipping the bottle up to his lips before lifting one of his feet and planting it to the wall. Pushing off from it and coupling it with a quick upwards swipe to try and throw her guard off, and let him twist away to the side, and back to an open ring.

So to speak.

"Something about assholes. And you and me. I think it ends in anal or someshit?" Travis was always mouthy. Always a piece of shit. Turned out, when the fighting got going, that only ramped up too.

[I'm down for anything you are.]

Life sure is a fucking crazy thing.

First of all, as far as Mages went? Travis wasn't even bog standard. Hell, it was the entire reason he didn't have mage hunters and Clock Tower hunting has ass down. Well, that and the whole assassin business thing. He was an idiot, but a valuable idiot. And maybe if they had, he wouldn't have wound up with his own set of command spells.

He'd only come to Japan for a fucking wrestling show. Not even an anime convention. And here he was, neck deep in anime bullshit. But then, THEN, it gets even better.

He summons a spirit. WAY BEYOND his stock. Turns out, the idiot who knew maybe two half decent magus tricks had a mana reserve that was damn near bottomless. Also turns out that the antique wrestling mask he had snatched up wasn't just for goddamn show, either.

Oh, and lastly? Turns out Quetzalcoatl wasn't some weird bird dude or a summon spirit in a big JRPG. Nah, she was an absolute knock out unit with a huge kick for wrestling. And that was how Travis found himself in this situation. Well into the dead of night, in an emptied out arena he had been to just hours ago, participating in what could be tactfully called a mana transfer ritual.

And what he would call: "Oh god I'm having a wrestling match against a super powered Mesoamerican God because apparently it proves my worth as a master and mana can be absorbed through sweat." Or, much shorter than that: "We're at 14 rotations on this giant swing please help."

Of all the ancient artifacts that could summon the Feathered Serpent, the Fifth Sun, the God of Wind and Wisdom, a wrestling mask was probably not considered one of them. Yet it had been the exact thing necessary to do just that. By all accounts, summoning a Divine Spirit shouldn't be possible except in the most special of circumstances, but her connection to that mask was just too pure to be stopped. So what if she had wanted to participate in a match of her own all those years ago? Sue her.

Regardless, it would seem luck was on her side. Although not exactly her type, per se, a Master who loved wrestling as much as she did was simply a match made in heaven. Although she couldn't have imagined that she'd be summoned in a wrestling arena and that her Master was not only a fan, but a practitioner of the sport, too! She simply HAD to wrestle him. It was fate.

Hence why Travis was on the receiving end of a giant swing 14 rotations strong and with no signs of stopping. Laughing cheerfully as she spins and spins and spins, she tosses Travis away at the 45th rotation. Her toss was expertly done, as she had aimed to toss him in between the bottom rope and the ring, throwing him out of bounds. He'd have to react fast if he wanted to stay in the game.

Or he could let it happen and take five. It doesn't seem like she's even broken a sweat.

((So let's continue a thread or two))

[OOC: Give me anyone you got.]

Edited 2019-09-20 11:38 (UTC)

When you deal with hoodlums and keep company of darker circles, you meet some strange folk. Ashe, leader of the Deadlock Gang, tended to keep intimate knowledge of those in and around these parts. Whether she had dealings with them, or adjacent to them. Everyone from gun runners, human traffickers, drug peddlers, you name it. Sure, maybe she didn't deal in the fouler shit, but that don't mean you get to pretend it isn't there.

But this one? She ain't around often, and she sure hasn't seen what she gets up to when she is around. No one she knows seems to deal with her, and since she knows some of them definitely do, she can only assume that means they don't want share the intimate details.

Fine by her. She preferred the direct approach anyways.

"You come round here often?" The joint was a seedy little tavern. The kind of place you ignore. Shit service, shit drinks. The works. Unless you know the right orders to place, and the right palms to fill. Then you got the good shit. A glass of which was being dropped right in front of little miss mystery, courtesy of the bandit leader who'd just sat down beside her, and opened her mouth.

No one just saunters into a tavern that just screams 'bad guy hangout'. Especially not this diminutive dame, almost looking like the exact type the normal patrons of this place would kidnap for ransom money or worse. And yet, this woman pretends that everything is normal as can be. As if she comes over here regularly. (Wisely she ignores the stares she gets from the regulars.)

Something a little off about her since no one dares to mention her or call her out or anything.

The mystery woman is blissfully staring back at the people looking at her, but it's interrupted by Ashe ordering her a drink. Well, it seems that someone is bold enough to ask questions. She looks over at Ashe, with a neutral yet friendly face.

"I don't usually, no. I felt in need of a change in scenery." The mystery woman says this as if this is perfectly normal. Women that look rich and classy totally roll up to shit holes inhabited by known criminals all the time.

Edited 2019-09-30 10:38 (UTC)

CALL ME OUT

gib travis

DOES THIS STUPIDITY TICKLE YOUR FANCY?

Travis and/or Amazon for... reasons

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Travis plz.

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Travis, please!

I am so late and so sorry. Also this is the dumbest, let me know if it works

it is beautiful and i will not hear anything against your tag

I'M CALLIN YOU OUT

remember how in plurk we said that we needed to be more cross-medium things?

LET'S TRY WITH SOMEONE NEW!

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