Open RP post for Maggie Garcia

[talesuntold]

Because we chose to tell the truth
(The cool of age, the rage of youth)
And stand against the lies of old
(The whispers soft, the tales untold)
We find ourselves the walking dead
(The loves unkept, the words unsaid)
And in the crypt of all we've known
(The broken blade, the breaking stone)
We know that we were in the right
(The coming dawn, the ending night).
So here is where we stop the lies.
The time is come. We have to Rise.

—From Dandelion Mine, the blog of Magdalene Grace Garcia, August 7, 2041.

Bring me your plots, or send a message to tricia868 if you want to talk things out first!

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[talesuntold]

A van careens around the corner, driving faster than any van probably ought to, but then, the roads are anything but heavily trafficked. She slows. Considers. Rolls down her window a few inches so as to be audible, one foot poised above the gas ready to floor it.

"You might want to stop that, honey," she calls. "Erratic behavior is one of the early signs of amplification, and getting shot dead would be an unpleasant end to your day."

Of course, he could actually be amplifying. He could be either confused or angry as his life slowly draws to a close, legally dead already, in which case a bullet before he forgets who he is might be a mercy. There's a gun in her glove compartment. She hates the idea of using it anywhere but a firing range. Maggie doesn't see a bite wound, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

Her windows are shatterproof glass, she has one foot on the gas and one hand on the window button, and she'll take off and leave him in the dust if she has to.

[crazystranger]

Martin's head shoots up the moment he sees the van. His eyes light up, grinning widely, expecting the doors to open and to see three familiar faces hooping and hollering as they poured out.

Instead there's a woman warning him about getting shot.

Slowly he lowers the bat, taking a cigarette from behind his ear and putting it between his lips. Pulling out a lighter, he lit the cigarette, all the while watching her curiously. He makes no move to step closer, still kind of waiting for the doors to open. Taking a drag and exhaling slowly, he shakes his head.

"I'm erratic as a course of action. Just the man I am. So far my day is unpleasant, and being shot heals like most things."

Taking another drag, considering her.

"You haven't seen three fairly erratic men around here? Maybe with a pretty thing, about this tall," he says, gesturing with his hand. "Who they're likely looking to as their queen?"