fh_launchpad

Sholeh walked into the library and stopped, filled with wonder. So many books here! So much knowledge! She bet she could find the answer to any question she could come up with, right here in this toom--and then a thousand more questions besides. And those answers, too!

"This place is wonderful," she breathed.

*Maybe so,* Zhahar, the ever-practical sister, whispered, *but remember our true purpose here. We have to find a home for Tryadnea to link to. We can't stay here forever.*

=So no getting sidetracked with daydreams and fairy stories, squirt,= Zeela added. Because she was useful like that.

::I won't,:: Sholeh said, trying not to sound like the pouty baby sister. ::I'm responsible! I am!::

Though she had to admit...the shelves labeled 'Natural History' and 'Anthropology' looked to be utterly fascinating. Surely a little looking around couldn't hurt, right?

Right.

[Sholeh Zeela a Zhahar is actually three sisters who share a core body. Their looks and personality differ depending on who is ascendant. Conversations between the sisters are silent, though anyone with telepathy or other psychic senses will be able to hear it, notice three different auras, etc etc.]

Jaime couldn't honestly say why he ended up at the local winesink, or why he remained there. On the plus side of this entire little adventure, the place did not reek of piss or blood.

So, there was that.

He brought his cup to his lips to take a sip, holding it carefully in his left hand. Then, very slowly put it back down before actually drinking any. "Is it just me, or are there very small bears having a wrestling match on the bar?" he asked the bartender.

The vague shrug he got in response was not reassuring him that he wasn't hallucinating, so he decided to forego the wine for now.

It's been asked for and we are in prime app season, so here it is -- Launchpad is open. No application this time around, just join the comm and post away.

Three rules:

1. Nothing NSFW in the comm. If you think you're on the border, error on the side of caution.
2. Unless you have the other player's permission, please don't test a character currently in play at FH.
3. Be nice, people.

Got it? Get ready, get set, test!

Spencer Shay, sculptor extraordinaire, was more than happy to be in a Fandom High classroom. Wearing one of his best Penny Tees (a red shirt with 'Church Pants' emblazoned in plain blue letters on it), he stood in front of the class with a big smile on his face. Next to him was some sort of... shape under a large tarp.

"My name is Spencer Shay, and noooooobody is going to call me Mr. Shay. That's not even my dad, my dad is Colonel Shay and he does not take kindly to being called Mister." He pointed at one of the students. "Remember that. Seriously, he doesn't like it."

Then, Spencer took hold of the tarp and pulled it down, to reveal a giant sculpture, in the shape of an eight foot tall pair of jeans.

"Art!" he declared. "So, I could really get into all the Rembrandts and the Warhols and the Dandy Warhols, but that'd be boring for a first class, am I right? So at your desks, you're going to find sheets of paper and fingerpaints! I want us to start with something fun, so make a painting of the first thing that comes to mind. We're not here to judge you, but I'm gonna come around to take a look at all the stuff you do today. Just so I get an idea of where you all stand. Or... finger. One of those words. Now, snap to it! Art time, go!"

[ooc: Tiny OCD coming up Have at it! SP is awesome if you need, tag in whenever!]

In life, there were important things, and Important Things. Doing a dedicate and extremely detailed research of the world she was in was one of the latest, and therefore, Hermione's new favorite activity. The only reason she wasn't permanently rooted in the library was that the books in this one were even more unnerving than the ones at Hogwarts, something she had thought impossible. Being trapped in what apparently was a parallel -of sorts- universe where nobody knew of The Boy That Lived, or the Ministry of Magic. But there was magic alright, and so Hermione was decided to find out just in what kind of mess she had gotten into.

But still, a common room was a common room, and Hermione knew she couldn't private others from using it, so she had turned up the television and left it in some channel that passed music videos. She was already lost in a thrilling lecture of World War Two by the time the same channel had started passing reality shows. The present one was...yeah, she wasn't even paying attention to it, or she would have been seriously repulsed. Maybe someone else would come and change it. That or she would put it on mute.

[Open!]

Clarice was glad it was cold out. It was always easier for her to get out when it was cold because then she could wear clothes that hid her unusual appearance.

But fortunately it wasn't cold enough that there weren't birds who were eager for doughnut crumbs. She smiled as she tossed them out, occasionally sipping the cocoa she'd brought for herself.

"Here birdies."

The place was pretty quiet, and being responsibilities' free, Melinda had decided to sneak in and ask for some hot chocolate. Well, not precisely sneaking in, because she couldn't buy things in the store if nobody saw her enter. But then again, she hadn't really announced her presence. Sighing over the fact she was overthinking something positively stupid, the girl turned her attention at the sketch pad on her lap; sitting with her feet carefully on the edge of the couch -she didn't want to be told not to put dirt on the couches-, she could take a good look at her work in progress. It was, unsurprisingly enough, a tree; tall and strong, but it looked like Autumn had fallen for it, as most of the leaves were on the ground, leaving the twigs bare and skeleton-like, and some slowly gliding downwards -she was particularly proud of the texture of the falling leaves, since it was tricky in her opinion-, an empty soil doing the times of a simple ground line. She would probably add detail on the ground later, as she was focusing on the remaining leaves on the tree. It was, on her opinion, a healthy tree, regardless of the leaf shortage it was experimenting at that given moment. It's trunk was strong and the imaginary roots went deep. It was still the kind of tree you wouldn't like to run into the middle of the night while running away from an axe-crazy middle aged man with a chainsaw, but she was improving.

( TL;DR: Omg squirrel! )

[OOC: Posting this "early" because Monday Morning sounds better than Sunday Night. Open!]

All right.

It was John's first day.

He should make a good impression with the nurses, and the rest of the staff, and check up on everything, and perhaps go through some charts. Responsible work. Good work. Important work.

Unfortunately, Sherlock had different priorities, so at this hour of the morning, John Watson was fast asleep at the desk.

[ open! ]

There was a cup of tea, long gone cold, on the table in front of Sherlock. And what might have been a pastry before being crushed by what passed for the local newspaper as he looked for any crimes of note.

Bring me a Baltimore newspaper.
SH

He oh so kindly texted John. Despite him not being in the same town. Or the same country.

Look, he had faith in the man's ability to follow directions.

[[Open, oh yes]]

The idea that it was strange that the news would be collected by squirrels never occured to Mork. He thought it must be par for the course (whatever that meant) on Earth. At the moment he was just finishing up an interview with one of them, all about his previous trip to this planet.

He would admit, he'd made a bit of a nimnell of himself that time. But he believed this time he was much better prepared.

"So you see I have a lot to learn, which is why Orson thought I should come here."

[Open to all!]

Apparently Fandom High lacked secret passages.

That or Cammie was getting lousy, and, please. But when she didn't manage to find a single fake floor, rotating shelf or hollow wall, she assumed there simply were no secret corners. Considering she had seen someone walk through a wall, and someone else turning invisible, they really didn't need secret places. She could be losing it, too, but she wanted to be optimistic regarding her mental health.

So after giving up and writing a small report regarding the fact you couldn't just pull a book in the library and go poof! -never mind the librarian had been giving her odd looks-, Cammie had decided to give a little stroll on the grounds. She was also making a little reckon on the zone, and probably finding different places where she could implement some surveillace systems.

Yes, just a normal day.

[Open!]

It'd been a pretty long time since the last time Dolf had set his eyes on a TV. He found himself almost immediately defaulting to the floor, legs drawn up for comfort so he wouldn't numb anything too quickly.

He reached for the remote, and at least he hadn't forgotten how that worked-- pointed it at the TV and clicked it on. Immediately, sound and images flooded forth. He flinched. Too much sound.

He slammed his finger down on the volume button. Much better. Then: zap. Flick. Zap. Click. He kept going until he found a football match with a team he almost recognized, although some of the names and faces had changed.

Finally, he leaned back, and was almost surprised to find the couch right behind him. He sighed at himself, then laughed softly. Right.

[[ open! ]]

There were many things Micah was having to get used to in this strange place. Which was putting it lightly. But being paid for doing the work he had previously done simply because he'd been told to was the least of them.

After caring for the horses he stepped outside for a breath of air.

"But where are all the war horses?" he wondered aloud. "Wizard, if it truly was you that day, where have you sent me?"

All in all, Guinevere would prefer to be in the Preserve, or the archery range. Or home. But she was tired of the language barrier here so she was attempting to study English. She'd managed to get hold of a Latin to English dictionary and was glad she'd bothered to learn the language of the invaders after all.

Okay glad that Merlin had made her learn it.

[Open!]

The last post was getting clogged, so here, have a new one!

Launchpad is the sandbox/testing ground community for fandomhigh, giving old and new players a chance to test characters before officially applying them to the game.

All of the previous members of this community except admin journals have been removed as a decluttering move. If you want to pick up with a character you've already tried, drop a comment to this post and they will be reinstated.

The Rules:
1. Characters appearing in the community are not game-approved, and their appearance doesn't mean the people playing them have sole claim to apply them.

2. You may try out each character for two weeks. After that, drop an email if you wish to continue play. Otherwise, you will lose posting access. (For the sake of interaction, there are a few mod journals that have been in play longer. Email the player if you want to test a character on that list and we'll hook you up.)

3. All class, dorm and town posts will be posted to this community. Keep any smut to your personal journals.

4. If you have an existing character interact with Launchpad characters, those scenes are not FH canon. Launchpad characters should not comment to the journals of existing FH players. Play with existing FH characters should happen in this community or the personal journals of the Launchpad character.

5. No one player can have more than two active Launchpad characters at once.

6. If a character is in play at Fandom High, they aren't eligible for this community. Any exceptions will be made on a case-by-case basis.

7. In general, this community follows the same rules as FH. If something couldn't happen there, it shouldn't happen here.

Application:

Player Name:
Player Age:
Contact Email:
AIM:
Full Name of Character:
LJ handle of character:
Fandom of character:


Apply using the new character journal in the comments to this post. Comments will be screened for privacy; we'll email you and send you a community invite when your application is approved. Do not directly apply for membership without filling out the application. If you do, your request will be ignored, and we'll mock you relentlessly.

It was one of those bad days.

When was the last time she had let it out? Probably three weeks ago, and then back to pretend everything was fine. Well, nothing was fine, and she felt like going insane sitting uncomfortable on the couch, legs up, one hand tapping on her knee, sometimes very fast, others following some sort of rhythm, the other hand up in her mouth, then down at her lap, then up at her mouth as she turned to the right and the left, trying to look for something, anything to keep her mind busy. Bite bite bite, chew chew chew, she was ruining her nails again. She was losing it again. When was the last time she had-- Already thought about that. It was really, really driving her crazy. What would she give to have a class right now. Then she would be putting all her attention to whatever the teacher would say.

Fire, fire fire fire. Every ounce of her being wanted to make fire, and she was starting to feel how her willpower started to crack under the necessity- yes, she was needy of fire. Cranky, restless, pale and worn out. Oh, and overall too scared to even make the smallest flame, because what if she realized it had ever felt better than she remembered? What if she got hooked at it? Again? She wasn't about to turn herself into a danger for everyone in the building. Um, hello? Already a danger for everyone, period.

And truly, the television and its re-runs weren't helping at all.

[Open! Cranky pyrokinetic is cranky, but mostly harmless]

Laura had borrowed a book from her roommate; borrow being a relative term since she had no intention of returning it and it would likely wind up in a donation bin somewhere.  She had also found herself a white carton of leftover Chinese food in the fridge that made for decent lunch, which would was much more likely to disappear without comment as the date of its making was questionable.  It was just going to go to waste, anyway, and, besides, there were staring Armenians to consider.

She curled up quietly in the corner of a couch, and settled in to waste some time.  Food actually making it into Laura's mouth seemed an optional thing; as did reading the pages in any particular sequential order.  However, the pages she'd already read would be easily marked with blotches of soy sauce.

[[ open common room is open ]]

The battle outside had reached an epic climax. It was down to the basic elements: Good vs. Evil. A last ditch effort to bring the light of freedom to the island and save the day.

Unfortunately for Cliff Patone there wasn't a damn thing he could do about Zombies invading so he elected to boost morale the best way he knew how.

"Okay! I got porn. Who's watching it with me!" he said holding up a DVD. "I hear this one actually has a plot so obviously it must be high class."

Anyone walking on campus at the moment can hear the ruckus. The ruckus in particular appears to be a certain girl with pink hair holding an impromptu concert for two squirrels who can only sit and stare at her. She is a frenzy of energy as she shouts and yells into the microphone as she rocks out on an out of tune guitar with a good deal of feedback coming from the speakers.

"I'M NOT SAYIN' I'M BETTER THAN YOU! I'M BETTER THAN YOU! I'M BETTER THAN YOU!
I'M NOT SAYING I'M RUBBER NOR DID I IN ANY WAY SUGGEST YOU ARE GLUUUUUUUUUUUUUE!"

Dandelion Naizen finished the song with what could almost be called a power chord and threw her hands in the air forming the fists of rock.

"THANK YOU FANDOM!"

She waited until she realized there was no applause coming from the squirrels and scowled at them.

"You fuckers have no soul. CLEARLY YOU ARE INSINUATING I AM SOME SORT OF VIKING!"

The two squirrels looked at each other. Clearly there was no insinuation.

"DON'T LIE TO ME! CLEARLY YOU ARE OF NORDIC DESCENT! I'll have you know the secret government agency I work for has cleared me to use DEADLY FORCE!"

The squirrels put down their notepads and backed away. This might get ugly.

[Open, yes]

The course offerings for this school were absurd. And testing out of the basic math and science requirements would leave Scully with more time to concentrate on her own projects, as well as shore up her identity as the 'new' Dana Katherine Scully.

So Scully was in the Study Hall, refreshing her memory about Trigonometry before taking the on-line test. And taking a small break to e-mail Mulder.

...The accommodations are fine. I'm not talking about my roommate with you. The classes are, not to put too fine a point on it, ridiculous. But I'm going to be grateful for small favors and work on solving my own personal mystery.

Tell me you haven't been arrested again since the last time I talked to you?

[open!]

Ashoka had put up the sign warning of the live fire going on, and was working out the morning kinks. She did this of course, by deflecting blaster bolts from flying droids.

Let it never be said that Guy Gardner couldn't teach.

Sure, his methods might run a bit toward the Kilowog 'Let's yell until they do it right' spectrum, but that was only when they deserved it. And, let's face it, when didn't they deserve it?

"Welcome to class, boys and girls." He was being kind and not calling them all girls. Wimpy little punks. "I'll be your teacher. You can call me Green Lantern or you can call me Mr. Gardner. Or we could go with Lantern Gardner."

The best Lantern there was.

Suck on that, Hal.

"And we're gonna play dodgeball." He punctuated this by constructed glowing green dodgeballs with his ring and letting them float in the air menacingly. "So pull your training pants up and lets get to this."

The water began to churn as a giant four-armed creature rose from the depths and swam toward the island. The Kraken had slipped his chains and was looking for a princess to eat. Surely there had to be one chained to the rocks. There was always a princess chained to the rocks.

Or perhaps he just wanted a hug. The Kraken didn't get enough love as a child.

Fandom wasn't exactly a hotbed of crime, but Tim couldn't stay inside, not tonight. Too many thoughts swirling around in his head. Way too much weirdness here to keep straight. Better to be Robin for a bit, get the adrenaline going.

Of course, jumping across the rooftops in this tiny town was about as dangerous as hanging off a kid's jungle gym. He hid in the shadow of the steeple and watched the streets, hoping to find a drug dealer to catch. Maybe a graffiti artist to scare off. Or a litterer. He'd take scolding an aggressive litterer at this point.

[Open.]

Another year, another boarding school. Percy wondered how long it would take him to get kicked out of this one. Though, from what he'd heard, maybe this place would be okay with the inevitable monster attack.

Also, the school was in an actual castle. How cool was that?

He started flipping channels, and was surprised to find a show about Hercules. This should be interesting.

She had been standing there the whole day. Or rather, she had been walking all over the roof since morning, taking her time to peek down now and then like a little kid wondering what would happen if something fell that high. In any kid's case, their parents would obviously teach him/her to keep a safe distance and probably make an example of how Bad Stuff happened when you fell from somewhere high; the usual way to explain this was to throw something easy to break, like an egg; an egg with a face to be exact. You could also throw a person; same effect, wider area of fluids coverage.

In Cameron's case, there weren't parents to tell her to stay away of the edges; there was no need anyway.

Time was a pretty vague and relative element when you were like her; morning had started and progressed, and then noon had followed suit; Cameron had seen a greater activity as some people decided to eat outside, others came back to do the same inside, and a group of unlucky ones headed to some inconveniently scheduled last minute recovery class. It didn't cross her mind -or the variable wasn't taken in count inside of her programming- that she wasn't getting any lunch for herself, but why would she worry about it anyway?

Noon and afternoon had passed by one after the other, and finally the evening had come, with a particularly clear sky, even starry when seen from the roof. She had been watching the sky without moving for 26 minutes -she was counting them of course- when a shooting star actually managed to surprise her; even when you had a super computer as a brain, some things were just unexpected. Blinking several times, she followed the path the shooting star had took on the sky, wondering if someone else had seen it. People used to make wishes when those happened. What could she wish for?

She wanted to see John; he wasn't capable of taking care for himself.

[Open to anyone who wants to lurk roofs in the night~]

Calm afternoon, nice weather, fashion magazines, and most importantly, no word exploding. She could live through everything but having yet another world exploding on her. That was simply too traumatizing and much of a hassle for her to stand or repeat anytime near, or far, or at all. On an unrelated note, she felt so lazy that she doubted anything would make her stand, or land, if you took in count she was floating three feet over the sofa she had originally sat on; air was much more of her liking anyway.

Flipping a magazine without really reading it -it would still take Kara some minutes to realize she was going through the pages of what could only be an ancient Popular Mechanics-, Linda Lang was almost starting to wonder if nothing was going to happen. Not even a little mayhem? An evil-doer with an attitude? Giant dinosaurs anywhere? The worst menace she had managed to spot the whole day had been an awfully made coffee, and she didn't even like the stupid thing to begin with.

She would even be happy if Kal showed his face around. Because he was around right? It would be totally unfair if she were the only unfortunate to get dragged into a world of boredom. Colorful boredom, alright, but boring none the less.

[OOC: For the mods, you might notice I had a slight brain spaz and wrote the wrong last name, sorry! In a more general note, anyone interested to waste some time with her?]

It was her second day at her new job, and while it wasn't a teahouse, the work at Caritas wasn't that different from any number of waitress jobs she'd done over the last few years.

"Hai hai!" she yelled, balancing trays filled with various bar-food appetizers. Her command of the English language was still... iffy, for lack of a better term, but for a girl from the Edo period, she wasn't doing too badly. "I said I am coming, Tino! Stop being a jerk!"

She had the important basics down at least.

Caritas is open, but be patient if your drink is wrong. The bartender can't read the labels on the bottles yet.

[Open with a side of major SP tonight.]

Matt Murdock wasn't born blind. However one good deed and a life saved led to an accident and a radioactive isotope being spilled into his eyes. But what the isotope took away, it gave back by increasing his sense to superhuman levels.

Which is why when Matt entered the gym, he could smell the sweat from at least a dozen different people coming from the treadmills and stepclimbers. He could hear the chain on the punching bag as it slowly twisted around. His senses were so acute that he had even developed a radar type sense that told him the exact position of each piece of equipment in the room.

Which is why Matt was able to walk directly up to the high bar without any assistance and jump up to the bar to begin a routine that would be on par with almost any olympic class gymnast.

Not that he was showing off or anything.

Okay. Maybe just a little bit.

He hadn't believed it when he'd been told about it, so Ben Tennyson absolutely had to see it for himself.

No, not the zombie band. That was weird, but more of a normal sort of weird.


"You're telling me I can seriously order drinks here? Without getting in trouble? For real? This isn't a joke?" Ben grinned at Tino like an idiot. "Oh, man, Kevin is gonna be SO jealous!!! All right, then -- give me... uh. I don't know. What's good here?"

It was time to experiment! And Tino's non-answer didn't faze him in the slightest. "Okaaaaay... A beer, of course. And a Scotch or bourbon or something like that. And a strawberry daiquiri."

Wait, daiquiris were supposed to be girly drinks, weren't they?

"...Don't tell anyone about the daiquiri."

Kurt sprawled on the couch, watching TV. His image inducer was on, so he at least looked like a normal human being. Acting like one was another matter -- he was laying upside down, with his feet in the air and his head by the floor, eating popcorn like that and flipping through channels like a maniac. "Fantastisch! There are twice as many channels here as at the Institute! I may never go to class!"

There was a ball pit.

Makita remembered such things -- dimly, like swimming through stagnant water -- from her life before the war. From sometime when she had been very little, and her father had taken her somewhere for her birthday.

So now she sat at the edge of the pit, large boots carelessly tossed aside as she kicked her feet in the balls, enjoying the rasping feel of the plastic toys against her tights.

Proto saw her, he would roll his eyes and sigh that sometimes she was six and not sixteen, but since he wasn't here, he couldn't tease.

And if anyone else tried to taunt her, she'd just pin 'em under the balls until they stopped.


[ooc: totes open]

It was just about typical that the first thing Henry DeTamble did at his new job as librarian at Fandom High was travel in time.

He'd been nervous, and trying not to be nervous, and, as usual, the result of that was an episode -- 15 minutes naked at O'Hare airport in 1988. He was pretty sure the security guards were already fielding reports of inappropriate behavior in one of the men's rooms in Terminal D.

Thankfully, it ended soon enough, and all he had to do was scramble back into his clothes without getting caught. Once he was dressed, he'd start exploring the library. There was a lot of paperwork about Special Collections, but nothing that really explained what it was.

[OOC: Open like a launchpad post. If you wanna catch him half-clothed, go for it; he can also be safely dressed.]

Thelma Bates was a mischievous girl while she was alive. Now that she was dead, and had been for quite awhile, she was downright devious.

And so, there in the common room was a girl in a black dress and red boots, camped out on a sofa.

Very possibly making plans to create a secret peephole into the girls' showers.

[ooc: While Thelma is only visible to certain types in canon, she will be visible to everyone. She just can't be touched unless you're inherently supernatural/dead. Ooopen]

The most unsettling thing about Fandom, Makita had decided, was how quiet things were here. There was food that wasn't MREs, which was awesome, but people were just so perky. She was still half-convinced she'd given herself a concussion when she'd banged her head against the tank, and this was all a hallucination of some sort.

So now she was at one of the few places she'd found that felt at least a little bit real. Something a bit more familiar. Right up to the way the big guy was pissed she'd taken his money at pool, and the way she'd had to crack a cue over his head to get him to back off.

Now she was sipping a soda as she watched people bowl, keeping a careful eye on the big guy and his friends. At least her hallucinations weren't totally boring.

[open!]

Launchpad is the sandbox/testing ground community for fandomhigh, giving old and new players a chance to test characters before officially applying them to the game.

All of the previous members of this community except admin journals have been removed as a decluttering move. If you want to pick up with a character you've already tried, drop a comment to this post and they will be reinstated.

The Rules:
1. Characters appearing in the community are not game-approved, and their appearance doesn't mean the people playing them have sole claim to apply them.

2. You may try out each character for two weeks. After that, drop an email if you wish to continue play. Otherwise, you will lose posting access. (For the sake of interaction, there are a few mod journals that have been in play longer. Email the player if you want to test a character on that list and we'll hook you up.)

3. All class, dorm and town posts will be posted to this community. Keep any smut to your personal journals.

4. If you have an existing character interact with Launchpad characters, those scenes are not FH canon. Launchpad characters should not comment to the journals of existing FH players. Play with existing FH characters should happen in this community or the personal journals of the Launchpad character.

5. No one player can have more than two active Launchpad characters at once.

6. If a character is in play at Fandom High, they aren't eligible for this community. Any exceptions will be made on a case-by-case basis.

7. In general, this community follows the same rules as FH. If something couldn't happen there, it shouldn't happen here.

Application:

Player Name:
Player Age:
Contact Email:
AIM:
Full Name of Character:
LJ handle of character:
Fandom of character:


Apply using the new character journal in the comments to this post. Comments will be screened for privacy; we'll email you and send you a community invite when your application is approved. Do not directly apply for membership without filling out the application. If you do, your request will be ignored, and we'll mock you relentlessly.

Archie had watched as Saul drove away in the Heron, meaning he got into the actual town later than expected. He was currently in some sort of public park, so he found a bench and sat, pushing back his hat with a sigh and resting his other arm on the small bag he'd brought along on this crazy assignment.

Fandom. A town, no, an entire island dedicated to maintaining an exclusive private boarding school for teenagers. I hope he finds pot rot on every one of his Dendrobiums, sending me out to the middle of nowhere on as flimsy a clue as this.

A few more minutes glaring at watching the ducks in the pond, then he'd start off again for the hotel.




[open :) Archie is a Townie but I wanted to test his voice a bit before apping him for reals.]

Fandom could not be more unlike the Lower City. For one thing, it smelled so nice here, she might as well be in Unicorn District. She'd yet to run into any mumpers begging for coin. Or a pickpocket. It made her feel out of sorts and she most definitely stood out as well in her black Dog uniform. Not that anyone had made a fuss about her. No, like usual it was Pounce who got the attention. Even here a black cat with purple eyes wasn't common.

Some things just stayed the same no whether were one went. Just like how there were pigeons here. Beka had bought herself a bag of stale bread. The cove at the shop had given her a weird look when she'd asked for it, but she didn't much care about him. She'd found a quiet spot in the park, not too far away from a pond, to sit in the grass.

"I wonder if it's always this quiet here?" she asked Pounce as she crumbled the bread in her hand before scattering the crumbs.

He answered with a typical mrrt, having not much to comment or he was simply distracted as the first pigeon landed in front of them. No doubt more would be following soon. They always did when they realized there was food to be had.

Okay. First thing? There were damn ZOMBIES in the bar. Zombies. What kind of crazy ass people want to have drinks where there are dead rotting corpses playing instruments?

So as much as Gunn would like to be at a bar and having a beer, he was patrolling. Not that he was finding anything or expecting anything.

Some old habits were hard to break.