here we go! /mario voice
Characters: Nel Zelpher, OPEN TO ANY/ALL
Date: January 9
Rating: PG-13 to be safe.
Summary: Yes, Nel mad.
Being tossed like yesterday's rubbish (backward, landing on her spine and sliding a full meter across the pavement) through a Chaos Gate was not particularly high on Nel's list of tasks she needed to accomplish. It proved that a higher power did have some stake in messing with her, at least.
She lay there stunned for ten full seconds, disoriented, too stunned to be angry until the shock passed and the pain steamrolled over her. Gingerly -- in case something got broken when she'd been thrown like a rag doll -- the short covert agent turned Twin Blade pushed herself into a more dignified crouch and took stock of the foreign city surrounding her. Nel's hands felt around subconsciously for her father's daggers, but the hilts they brushed against were not the ones she'd become used to grasping.
Her mouth twisted. Head-a-whirling with a few blasphemous vulgarities, she stood. The next person who came into shouting distance would be on the receiving end of old-fashioned Aquarian interrogation; no Queen, no squad, no calming influence was around to "cool her jets".
Date: January 9
Rating: PG-13 to be safe.
Summary: Yes, Nel mad.
Being tossed like yesterday's rubbish (backward, landing on her spine and sliding a full meter across the pavement) through a Chaos Gate was not particularly high on Nel's list of tasks she needed to accomplish. It proved that a higher power did have some stake in messing with her, at least.
She lay there stunned for ten full seconds, disoriented, too stunned to be angry until the shock passed and the pain steamrolled over her. Gingerly -- in case something got broken when she'd been thrown like a rag doll -- the short covert agent turned Twin Blade pushed herself into a more dignified crouch and took stock of the foreign city surrounding her. Nel's hands felt around subconsciously for her father's daggers, but the hilts they brushed against were not the ones she'd become used to grasping.
Her mouth twisted. Head-a-whirling with a few blasphemous vulgarities, she stood. The next person who came into shouting distance would be on the receiving end of old-fashioned Aquarian interrogation; no Queen, no squad, no calming influence was around to "cool her jets".