Perspectives: When the Mask Comes Off (Nov '08)

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Perspectives: When the Mask Comes Off (Nov '08)

Postby Visavis » Tue Apr 02, 2013 3:51 pm

shaydeswhisper: Perspectives - November: Post here!
Alrighty, this month we are going to be looking at what our characters do "When the Mask Comes Off" figuretively of course. What I'm curious to see is what types of things do your characters do when they aren't superheroing. Perhaps they have a daytime career they tackle with? Do they have someone close to them they spend time with? What kind of "normal" things drive them?
Last edited by Visavis on Sun Apr 21, 2013 1:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Perspectives: When the Mask Comes Off (Nov '08)

Postby Visavis » Tue Apr 02, 2013 3:52 pm

Cyberette: Playlist
Take away the armour: The Plating. The Sensors. Directional Microphones. Directional Thrusters. The Crystaline/Impervium Alloy Wings. The HUD. Power Supplies. The Batteries. Servos. Wiring. Insulation. Climate Control. The Padding. The Bolts. The Screws. Then take away the Subdermals. The Biolelectric Harvester. The Metabolic Amplifier. The Subdermal Power Storage Units. The Billions of Nano Parabolic Emitters.

What do you have?

A Korean/Swedish halfling woman of 28 years, pale blue eyes, Black hair and pale skin standing at Six feet, eight inches tall with a firm stance in front of a Marshall halfstack MG100HDFX tube amp atop an MG412A cabinet.

She tosses her long and recently washed hair over her shoulder and rolls them back slowly. A leather strap weaved with strands of cotton threads in the pattern of black, emerald green, and silver diamonds runs across her back. Attatched is a flamed maple neck with a streaked ebony board, a flamed maple body with a dyed greenburst safari body custom Fender Telecaster with a black 3ply pick guard. Two Seymour Duncan Custom SH-5 pickups give her the sound and tone she has grown to prefer after having sampled a wide variety of Humbuckers and single-coil pickups.

She powers on the amp, letting the tubes warm up as she checks the time. It's only 6pm. That gives her four hours before she should shut it down before anyone can, within their legal rights, shut her one-girl-rockathon down but good. She begins her loving religion of plugging in; Boss DS-1, MXR ZW44 Zakk Wylde, Line 6 Echo Park, Line 6 Verbzilla, and her Dunlop Crybaby in a long multi-coloured and blinking daisy-chain of future sound.

Take away the suit, and this is the most expensive array of technological equipment she owns, coupled with her Personal Computer of course, to which she was attending; looking over her 'Songs I know' playlist. She selected a number of them, opening a new playlist with the date; 22 November 2008. She selects a few tracks from 'Songs I kinda know', 'Songs I want to know', and 'I have NO Idea'. Playlist ready. She pressed 'play' and mused, "Night of the Classics."

She takes a breath, as the first song begins, ebbing softly through her desktop speakers, and sets the half-stack to '2'... which was still a touch too loud, really. She sets her fingers, takes the pick from between her teeth, and Strums along with Led Zeppelin: Kashmir.

She was in a different kind of mental state. She knew the song through tablature and repetition. She knew where to move her fingers and when. She was so focused, nothing else came into play. No time to think about her day. No thoughts of the pains, or the failures of the past. No thoughts of her future, aside from the immediate. Just Music. And the joy of Mimicing someone else's creations like she was actually playing along side them. It was always this way with the first song. She was too tense. Too focused. But her fingers limbered, her body began to sway and by the end, she was allowing herself to swim through a few select thoughts.

Like 'Fun' for instance. Jesska bounced around lightly in her sea-green cotton boyshorts and matching tanktop as she headed down a Magic Carpet Ride by Steppenwolf. It had a bounce to it she just lost herself in. She mussed it up here and there, which staggered her back into forceful concentration a moment, but she didn't dwell. It was a song to let go to. She giggled softly, swaying comically to the beat, singing along when she could tear her mind away enough from the frets.

Panting softly, after having exerted a fair amount of energy giggling and bouncing around, She eased into the Paint it Black by the Rolling stones with a few shakes of the head as she stumbled about it. Her frustration mounted steadily as she reached the second verse, she stopped, looking left and right as if someone would catch her 'cheating' and skipped to the next one down the list.

Bad Company. Feel Like Making Love. Her mind blitzed into the song with a fevered determination as if to make up for her 'skip'. Her fingers obeyed as she scratched out to the Rhythm of what she believed to be one of the most ...selectively influential songs of all time, chewing her lower lip firmly as her mind swam in song and softer thoughts than the song actually implied with a quivering breath.

But the night was getting more difficult for her. The songs marched directly into lesser known territory as her mind wandered on its own, gravitating to images of her teammates as she Strummed along to Uriah Heep's 'Too Scared to Run'... A mixture of thoughts began Snowballing. Down and through the Rolling Stones' 'You can't Always Get What You Want' to which she had come to pause, her fingers unsure.

Thin Lizzy Proclaimed that the Boys Were back in Town as her fingers went backstage to join her mind. Fleetwood Mac wanted to Go Their Own Way, but Jesska was already elsewhere. By the time Clapton wondered if She Had Ever Loved a Woman, she was barely plucking away, Lost. She looked a long moment to her drowning hands, and sighed.

"....This isn't what I'm supposed to do." She admitted to no one.

She stopped the playlist, Hefted the guitar off of herself But paused halfway.

"One more..."

She Queued up "Sweet Home Alabama" and Dreamt along with Lynyrd Skynyrd, whistfully. The song had a whimsy to it that calmed. It talked of better days to her, perhaps. It just had that 'everything's going to be okay' kind of feeling to it. She could also play it with her eyes closed. It was one of the few.

The song ended. She cleaned off her strings, loosened them, Unhooked, unplugged, shut down, put up, put away, got dressed, and headed back to the Citadel to get some proper work done. The Suit didn't tune itself. Yet.
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Re: Perspectives: When the Mask Comes Off (Nov '08)

Postby Visavis » Tue Apr 02, 2013 4:01 pm

Kaijuko: Time Abroad
Clack-clack-clack. The staccato rhythm of wooden practice swords striking each other resounded around the room accompanied by the rapid shuffling of feet as two figures danced around the practice mat.


Clack-clack-clack. Spin, strike, sidestep and parry they matched each other move for move. Both were bare-foot and dressed in loose fitting white practice outfits with features suggesting Asian heritage, though only one of them would claim it, and both wielded a pair of wooden practice swords.


Clack-clack-clack. A handful of other students stood around the edge of the room watching as the two in the center strove against each other with all of the speed, strength and skill they possessed. Perhaps the watching students might have compared it to the eternal struggle and harmony of yin yang as the man and woman traded fluid strikes.


Kaijuko was ‘In the Moment’, she didn’t have any better way to describe it. Her world had narrowed to just her and Hiroshi, the man she was sparring with, she felt acutely aware of their every movement. An intense oneness with everything else around her that she hadn’t experienced since becoming a Warshade, some small part of her wondered if that had been because of a lingering difference between her halves that had only recently been resolved. Another small part of her revelled in the exhilaration of being matched move for move by an experienced swordsman. Hiroshi was two years younger than her and had been studying the two sword style since the senior year of high school (Akechi had told her that meant between seventeen and nineteen years of age). She had a couple of years more experience than he did, but had only recently taken to the two sword style in earnest and it took everything she had to keep pace with the younger man.


Still another part of her was aware of the pulse and flicker of energy that she had come to think of as an aura emanating from everything in the room. She could taste electrical, kinetic and thermal energy flicker and pulse around her in the combination that she had long associated with humans.


All her conscious effort however was focussed on the task at hand, she drove hard at Hiroshi hoping to force an opening in his defences. Pressing forward she forced the younger man to give ground, pivoting she kicked out high and instantly regretted sacrificing her footing as Hiroshi dropped low and swept her remaining foot out from under her.


“Are you alright Kitsuki-sama?”


She lay on her back and blinked up at the ceiling as the rest of the world rushed back into her awareness. Hiroshi stood over her grinning.

“Only my pride I think, does that kick ever work?”

Hiroshi only shrugged, “Sometimes, but I wouldn’t giving up my footing to try and kick someone in a real sword fight. That seems like it would be a good way to loose a foot.”

Kaijuko laughed and accepted his hand as she got to her feet. “You’d be surprised how effective it can be, it all depends on where you kick someone.” They bowed to each other and headed to change.


Later the pair walked in silence back to the Masatoshi residence where she had been staying with Akechi’s mother since his departure back to Paragon, Hiroshi was a close relative and stopped by regularly to help the aging lady with errands. In the last few months he had also acted as her tour guide around the city and surrounding areas in addition to his duties as her sparring partner.


“Kitsuki-sama?” Hiroshi broke the silence first.

“Yes”

“You work with Uncle Akechi back in America right?”

This was it. The question he hadn’t asked for two months, no one had. Akechi’s name had gotten her just about anything she needed so far from her new swords to training with Hiroshi and between the Masatoshi family, Beam and Beth her travel needs had been taken care of almost without effort on her part (fortunate since she didn’t even have faintest idea what it would take on her own.)


“Yes?” her answer was tentative as if she feared what would follow.

“Are you a Police Officer like he is then? He’s been with the Police for as long as anyone here can remember!”

“Err….” She hesitated as it occurred to her that she really had no idea if Akechi’s family knew about his Heroing career. “I’ve worked with him in law enforcement for a couple of years now.”


She ended up dodging questions the rest of the day before she was able to e-mail Akechi and ask him exactly how much his family knew about his work in Paragon.
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Re: Perspectives: When the Mask Comes Off (Nov '08)

Postby Visavis » Tue Apr 02, 2013 4:04 pm

Black Starbeam: Ticking clock
5:48:02am.
5:48:03am.
5:48:04am.

He'd be insane by now if he hadn't made sure the clock in his office ran smoothly around the seconds. Individual jolts would have done his head in by now.

5:48:07am.

Black Starbeam sat back on his couch, staring at the clock as it rotated through the seconds. His feet sat on his large coffee table, toes staring upwards at the ceiling, the blue of his uniform contrasting sharply with the dark wood of the table. He cradled the back of his head with his hands, elbows pointing out to the sides as he relaxed into the chair, ever staring at the clock.

5:48:11am.

A sigh crossed his lips as he glanced around the room momentarily, looking for a distraction. Paperwork was done and filed. Any calls that needed to be made could wait until a reasonable hour. E-mails that needed to be sent had been. All that was left was to wait then. He brought his eyes back to the clock.

5:48:24am.

It seemed that the final two hours of his wait were determined to be the longest of the four.

5:48:25am.
5:48:26am.
5:48:27am.
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Re: Perspectives: When the Mask Comes Off (Nov '08)

Postby Visavis » Tue Apr 02, 2013 4:06 pm

Static Bolter: A day in the country
Twitching lightly, Beth idly fussed with Dare's mane of hair as she waited for Jess. After many threats she'd finally managed to drag her friend out to the riding club, and convinced her to try her hand at riding again, after an....unfortunate first experience. Harry, one of the club's regular stablehands, was currently saddling up one of their horses for Jess, who was pacing around nervously in the riding gear that Beth had lent her. Jess had paced back and forth so much she was beginning to wear a track in the dirt. She'd paced as Beth had tried to introduce her to Dare, the handsome black stallion who was the last unsullied gift Beth had received from her father. She'd paced as Beth had snuck Dare some treats, then brushed him, then laid the saddle across his back and buckled him up. Beth found it hard to believe that something she found so relaxing could agitate her friend so much.

Finally Harry emerged from one of the stalls, leading a pretty brown mare out into the yard. "This is Bella. I think you've met Bella before, Miss Beth? While you've been away Bella's been keeping Dare company quite a bit on exercise. I think he's rather sweet on her." Beth smiled as the two animals snuffled gently at each other, and was pleased to find Jess did too. "Jeepers."

Taking the opportunity while her friend was standing still, Beth took Jess's arm with a twitchy hand. "Right then, shall we?" Jess gave her an almost horrified look, and she turned her head to roll her eyes at Harry. "Thanks for the help dear, but we should be able to take it from here."
"Oh, right Miss. I'll just go muck out some of the stalls, shall I?" The young man grinned and strolled off.

"Okay dear, he's gone. No one else around here but the horses. Ready to have a go at this now?" She leaned out and gently took Bella's bridle to lead her closer. Jess stiffened uncomfortably.
"Y'know, I'm getting the feeling that this wasn't such a good idea. I don't really need to do this, I'll just watch." She turned to walk off but Beth maintained her grip on Jess's arm and dragged her back, smiling slightly.
"Oh no you don't. What do we do when we fall off the horse?" She cupped her hands to give Jess a leg-up, and after some grumbling managed to force the other woman up onto the brown mare.
"We get trampled and peed on." Jess scowled, fidgeting awkwardly with the reins.

Beth laughed and mounted up on Dare, then leant over to take Bella's reins as well. The two horses clopped slowly out of the yard. "Don't be silly. We get back on!"
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Re: Perspectives: When the Mask Comes Off (Nov '08)

Postby Visavis » Tue Apr 02, 2013 4:08 pm

Slippay: Home alone.
Around the room on shelves and pillows, the puppets and dolls stared, silent.

She sat, comfortably numb at her desk, the thin steel needle dashing back and forth through a miniscule flap of blue fabric - Symphony broadcloth solid, according to the clerk who had helped her. Just a few more stitches, and she leaned back, sighing heavily. That hem was finished, the woven alchemical silver thread glistening slightly at the base of the jacket under the somewhat less-than-ideal worklamp.

After a long moment simply laying back in her reclining chair, blessedly without thought, her mind picked up it's cue and began running through the endless barrage of self doubts, pointless concerns, and murmured regrets. Only a sudden chill shook her from the reverie, and she shot the open window a withering glare.

Finally, she spoke, "Well, I needed to get some chores done anyhow. Amiens, could you get that?" Her left hand shot into the air, fingers tensing, as one of the dolls flew across the room, clinging to the top of the window and pulling down with all it's tiny might.

"... She may well need some help..." Sage exhaled sharply, furrowing her brow as 5 others were guided to aid their comrade, tugging all along the top of the window. The window, merciless in it's stubborness, did not budge an inch.

A twitch of her right index finger, and the small army drifted through the air, weightless and forgotten, while Sage herself stood and paced across the room. Standing on the tips of her toes and bringing all her weight to bear, the window creaked, scraped, and finally, slammed shut.

She turned, smoothing her skirt, before smiling forgivingly at the array of marionettes. "You tried, at least." Her fingers and mouth twitched, causing them to bow and release a chorus of "we're sorry, miss!" "It's quite alright. Orleans, set the water to boil, I would like some tea."

The small blue-clad doll stared blankly forward, just as mindless as every other doll in Sage's possesion, merely a puppet, before jumping as it was manipulated into a bow.

As she mentally guided Orleans through the tea-making process, directly controlled two others that were dusting their fellows, and tugged at the metaphysical strings to guide another in the washing of dishes, another part of Sage's mind wondered...

Did ventriloquism make talking to yourself acceptable?
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