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!

Comments

[talesuntold]

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.

[notwearingthekeds]

All Izzy was sure of, right now, was she wasn't in Ohio anymore. This was all a bit much. There were a lot more questions she had, and she wasn't sure which one to start with. A deer infected with what? Was this a personal thing or did she stumble into someplace with very strange priorities.

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?"

[talesuntold]

"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?"

[notwearingthekeds]

"Parents always have too many rules." Izzy said that in response to the word 'overprotective' to be sure, but it seemed to be about something else. Her tone just didn't carry correctly. To be about what Maggie said. As she steps through she pulls out her walkman, one of the newest things to her. It looks new too, which has to be weird.

"Um, dogs are fine. I never had one? But I'm not afraid of them."

[talesuntold]

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."