Magdalene Grace Garcia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
talesuntold) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
triangularity2016-07-09 07:06 pm
talesuntold) wrote in triangularity2016-07-09 07:06 pm
Open RP post for Maggie Garcia
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![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
tricia868 if you want to talk things out first!
(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
no subject
That was why she ran away, after all.
"Maybe I could come in and use your-" Izzy initially was going to say 'phone.' But who could she call. Mia was who-knows-where, and she couldn't call home. She refused. But she didn't like the idea of staying out here.
Especially when a home is so... fortified. That's not really endearing, although the woman seems nice enough. Through a gate. That's locked.
no subject
Maggie raises her eyebrows. "If I knew who was driving that bus, I'd give them a piece of my mind about letting anyone off in the middle of the woods without shelter immediately nearby. You're welcome to come in, as long as you can show me a clean blood test first. There's a testing panel to your left." How to use it is pretty self explanatory, the universal language of an outline of a hand to press her own hand to.
Sorry, Izzy. You're now in a post zombie uprising world, with all the paranoia that entails.
"You can stay here awhile, or I'll help you get where you need to go."
no subject
Second, why would a blood test matter? Third, how the heck was a blood test going to happen from that thing unless it like stabbed her with a bunch of needles? Panels like that were more of some sorta sci-fi thing her family hated. Which was more of the reason Izzy watched them than actually enjoying them. Not... real, right.
So... she had a choice, run away. Seems bad given all the security this place had. And whatever was important about her blood test. Or risk getting stabbed in the palm. She didn't like that either. But... she had to be strong if she was going to find Mia, right?
She put her hand on the scanner and tensed, ready to definitely get stabbed by the weird vampire panel thing.
no subject
That reaction screams 'not from around here.' Blood tests are standard operating procedure in all public buildings and any private home that has homeowner's insurance. Either this girl has basically never left home or she's from one of the underground fringe communities that avoid all contact with the government or CDC monitoring. Either way, she's a long way from home.
The testing panel sprays antiseptic foam that also dulls the pain of very tiny needle pricks in several places on Izzy's hand. "Thank you. You don't look like you had a run-in with an infected deer out there, but we have to be careful."
The lights above the panel flash green and the gate slides open just after Maggie finishes speaking.
"Come on in, honey. What's your name?" She'll take a first name here, no intention of pressing for detailed personal information. Certainly not immediately.
no subject
But instead she focused on the question she had to answer. And that one tiny joy she could take out of it. She could answer, and someone would listen to her. And she hoped, really hoped, wouldn't parse out the obvious name it used to be. "Izzy."
She could just be herself, not wear that name her mother saddled her with. A name that didn't even have any love to it. Ohh, that's a thought she didn't like. Let's avoid that one from now on, focus on the good. "You out here on your own, that's why you have all this security?"
no subject
"Nice to meet you, Izzy. My husband took my sister-in-law along on a business trip, but they should be home tonight, I hope. Tomorrow at the latest. Alisa's near your age, I'd guess. I have plenty of security because lots of people do these days, and also because I have a very overprotective," and very rich, though Maggie neglects to mention that just now, "father. If I wanted my parents to sign over the deed to my grandparents' old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, that was the condition."
Before they head into the house, she has to ask, "How do you feel about dogs?"
no subject
"Um, dogs are fine. I never had one? But I'm not afraid of them."
no subject
Maggie notes both the tone of the answer and the pristine antique music player, but lets both mysteries pass unremarked for now. An extremely sheltered life in one of the off-grid communities would explain some things, but nothing stays brand new in those places for decades.
"I work with a rescue organization, so I have a lot of them. They're small and well trained. If any bother you, they know all the usual commands: sit, down, stay, and so on."