1401. The Tag Three (New) People Meme
Note: Due to complaints in the past about this meme, please read the disclaimer below before posting.Building up new CR can be hard, especially if you're unsure who's interested, or if you're just a little bit shy. Behold a meme designed specifically to get around that
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Sitting on the curb, she felt slightly troubled as she felt the sting of the bruises on her arm. This world was crazy, brutal, and dangerous at times.
Being in a human body, especially in that of a child, it left her vulnerable and afraid at times. Proteus didn't even strike at the man who stank of alcohol. She'll never forget that smell, or all the details of that encounter.
Perhaps if she sat here and waited a bit for the pain to fade a little, she would be "right as rain", as the expression goes.
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That night seemed quiet still, detestably so, as he walked down the pavement briskly. Perhaps he would blow up the town-hall again, they had just finished rebuilding it. Or would that be too predictable? He passed by the small figure huddled on the curb without acknowledging it, his magic invisibly trailing behind him, recoiling as it brushed against her.
He stopped. Something was not right, humans did not feel that way. He turned around, eyes narrowing in suspicion as he retraced his steps and stood behind her, at a reasonable distance.
“And what have we are?” he asked, haughty but curious.
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He stayed in the shadows a few steps away from where she was crouching, suspicious if not threatening, waiting for an answer.
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She blinked and looked up at the man, showing little emotion as the adrenaline continued to flow through her veins. "My name is Proteus." That's all she decided to say to him for the moment. Her wariness and the sting of the slight discoloration on her arm revealed that she couldn't exactly trust him, in the assessment of hearing his tone of voice.
Just what did he want, exactly? She was waiting for the man to introduce himself, then say something else. He was probably curious about her speech--that she believed as reasonable--but instinct, something she treasured very much apart from all five senses, told her that there was more to him than that.
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Bomb. The word gives her goosebumps, and she has to wipe beads of sweat from her forehead. As if it weren't bad enough that she's sitting in front of it, there's a timer. An alarm clock actually, which is tacky at best. Not that any of that matters. When it goes off, she'll be obliterated, as will most things in a nearby radius.
She looks between the fourteen wires between the clock and the explosives, biting at the inside of her cheek nervously. "This isn't as cool as it is in the cinema," she mumbles to herself, glancing away from the choices momentarily as if it'll miraculously give her the answer. Instead, it gives her a strangely pale man with an odd cape and hat. "You want to have a go?"
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Which sets him on the disgustingly heroic task of finding and de-activating the explosive device, however it works. He lets the faint electric hum of it lead him to the room in which it stands, eyebrows raising as he finds someone else there, already trying to stop the explosion.
He steps closer cautiously, his eyes narrowing in distrust. “I am hardly a specialist,” he replies, looking down at the mess of wires and electronics.
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A huffy sigh at him, and she's back to looking at the multicoloured bunches of electronic currents. "Well, it's not going to stop itself, and this isn't exactly my speciality either," she says, steady hands moving to the wiring.
It can't be that hard if they put scenes of this on the telly. Clara hasn't even paid much attention to those things, even. She probably ought to have, considering her genius and all, but bombs honestly bother her in a way other things don't. Behind a keyboard or in front of an oven, she's hardly in the way of harm. It's completely different ( ... )
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He smirks but does tilt his head in agreement, his fingers picking the wires one by one, as if counting them, magic projecting a faint green light around his hands.
“This one,” he decides, holding out a wire exactly like any of the others, “is the only actually connected with the rest of this device. Electricity runs through it.”
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Clara watches curiously, the colour of his hands intriguing her further. She leans in close, enough where he should be able to feel his breath on his fingers, and once he makes a decision, she leans back on her heels again and nods, chewing at her lip nervously when she raises the wire clippers again.
She pauses moments before cutting the wire between his fingers. "If we die, my name's Clara, and it's a pleasure to meet you, sir."
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"We are not going to die," Loki replies, though he seems amused. His expression shifts a little, into something darker. "At least I am not going to. You, I haven't decided, yet." He grins to her, showing all his teeth.
The clock above the bomb abruptly stops, the whole device coming to a stop with a soft whir. No explosion today but truly, it is not the bomb she should be worried about.
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He, honestly, didn't seem too tough. Perhaps a bit tall, but gangly all the same. She could probably dodge out of his way, maybe throw a good punch at his exposed throat.
She has a bit too much optimism, however. Eyes flicked his direction, she keeps her smile steady and tries not to laugh. "Don't suppose the nice introduction changes my chances, hm?"
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In retrospect, Pandora was pretty sure that sneaking into a castle was a bad idea. It wasn't as if anyone seemed to notice her. What was one more slender blond where a good sized bulk of the population also fit that description? It was curiosity that was in control of the impulse today, anyway. So onward! Walk with purpose, try not to get lost and-
Was that a library?
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