♛ refer to the list above for active muses. ♛ post "calling" one of them out — you can do so by putting their name in the subject line! ♛ can be informal/formal/comment spam/crosscanon/explicit/whatever tickles your fancy! ♛ feel free to make up a scenario at the start, or wait to see where things go.
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.
LET'S TRY WITH SOMEONE NEW!
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 subject)
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.