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ᴇʟ nysa ▶ a multifandom rpg

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idealog: (got a hole inside of me)
[personal profile] idealog
[ He's done his reading. He's lurked around the Red Light district for answers. 9S has seen a lot recently, but he still doesn't know. It's an itch in his mind waiting for a good scratch, but observation and research hasn't quite done the trick. He's got the basics down, he thinks, but it still seems a little too personal to test the waters himself. Being physical with someone like that? He may as well give a stranger his personal decryption codes. He's made friends here and most people aren't so bad, but the vulnerability still bothers him.

9S is more than a little exasperated with wondering. The world, especially a new one like this, is full of so much else yet there's so much focus on that one activity. ]


Why are humans so obsessed with sex? Aren't there more interesting things to do?

[ Phrasing it like that might ease the "why are you so weird?" "i'm an android" part of a conversation, he thinks, but 9S realizes it's strange enough that people will be confused regardless. This was a terrible idea. Where's the delete function on this thing, anyway?

Sigh.]


At least it's not war, I guess.

[ Always a positive. ]
vorrutyer: (what a shitty grin)
[personal profile] vorrutyer
[ Byerly Vorrutyer is sitting in front of a piano, fingers on the keys. Byerly Vorrutyer is also, apparently, drunk. There's a bottle of brandy in front of him balanced beside the music rack that's two-thirds drained, and there's a tiny sway in his posture, and he looks sloppy - suit coat opened, shirt-collar loosened. When he speaks, his voice slurs. But as he talks, he plays Chopin beautifully, expressively. He only misses the very occasional note. ]

God help me, but this place is dull. And I know from dull. I spent an entire season - an entire season! - on the Vorinnis estate on the South Continent. If Lady Vorinnis hadn't been there to distract me with all her deliciousness, I'd have actually, literally, died of boredom. I nearly set fire to the whole taiga. Roasted all the little birdies and rabbits and peasants. Pheasants. Peasants. Whichever.

[ He sighs mournfully, casting a sorrowful glance at the camera. ]

Say, fellows, how does a man have fun around here? It's clear no one knows how to play whist, so that's out, and dueling for laughs seems tacky. I've already watched a few of you brutes bash one another's faces in, which had its charms and no doubt, but the time for that is over. I can't play bed, wed, behead with you, because you're all proles of no account and no education who wouldn't know the high-society names I mention to you. Oh!

[ He sits up a bit, stopping his playing mid-note, right before the end of the first section of the piece. What a musical anticlimax. ]

I've got one. I'll write limericks about you. Tell me a bit about yourself, and I'll write limericks. Go on, do. They'll be funny, I promise - this is one of my favorite games. Absolutely kills at parties.

[ And then, with a small bow - ]

Byerly Vorrutyer, Emperor of Barrayar, at your lyrical service.
enarms: (pic#11699515)
[personal profile] enarms
Hi all. John Watson.

I'm with the original batch of refugees and there's a lot of you I haven't met - a lot I probably never will. [ at this point, with everything so permanently Wild, why not be blase about being Batch Number 1? ] As a doctor, I'd like to reassure and remind you that if the medical methods on offer here make you uncomfortable, there are alternatives. There are plenty of medical professionals from various backgrounds among us, so I encourage you to ask around if you need to. Don't feel like the Sanctuary's your only option - although from what I understand a lot of us do work there now, so it's also a safe place to go even if you are wary.

On that note, I'm putting together a list— yeah, I know we all hate the L word, don't panic —of people who are either medically trained or capable of healing magic. If you fit into that, anywhere from an ability to deliver first aid to, I don't know-- magical liposuction. [ this is a thing he regrets saying as soon as it's said, the immediate frown of "??? why the fuck" appears on his face literally immediately before being smoothed forcibly away ] Get in touch. I'll need to know a few basics. Skillset, medical background, level of expertise, whether or not you're comfortable to be contacted by fellow refugees, whether or not you're comfortable to be contacted to help in an emergency. You don't need to fire it all at me in one go unless you want to, we'll have a chat. Feel free to reply privately, that's fine. Replying doesn't immediately put you on a public database, I won't be handing out your name to anybody without your permission. Thanks.

[ aaaaand with a brief pause to consider if there's anything else to add, a small hand-lift of a wave to the camera when he decides there isn't, it's John out ]


( ooc: please input your medically trained/magical healer/therapist/etc character's info into this spreadsheet if you're interested in having your character contacted for medical shenanigans! It's fine to respond to the spreadsheet without replying to this post, but ICly your character will have needed to make themselves known to John somehow to end up on this list, so we can handwave it (default, no contact necessary) or you can get in touch to work out the details! )
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