(no subject)
[OOM: It has been a long few months. Petra has healed fairly well, and undergone a few changes. Still in charge of the war effort, but much more in the background.]
“…I don’t care how it happens just get them in place. We’ve gone over this already Peter…” A door opens and shuts as someone walks in backwards, “Peter? Peter? Damn…. Oh no….” The oh no might account for the fact that once shut the door disappears. “No nononono… damnit Milliways!!” Only Petra Arkanian could say the word and make it sound like a swear word.
Part of this might be her costume. She looks very little like the toughened soldier she resembled when she left the bar a few weeks ago. Her hair is a deep red, and she is dressed in a long black dress with her hair up. Once upon a time her ears were not pierced, but now they are. Her face has been artfully painted, and to top it off a black cat rests in the crook of her arm.
“Damn it bar… Why? Why?!” Her disgust is evident as she turns around and talks to the bar. Instead of an answer a dish of tuna appears and the cat jumps down and begins munching on it.
“Glad /you’re/ happy Kit. Bar, send me back.” The door doesn’t reappear but a glass of wine and a book does. “Bar I can not be here. I’ve got my duties back home.” The bar doesn’t seem to care very much. “I can’t even pay my tab, so unless you can pull from my account back home….” A note appears, done. She’s getting rather frustrated, but continues to argue with it.
It is quite possible no one will recognize the ex-battle school brat. Then again, her voice is quite unmistakable. Anything is possible.
“…I don’t care how it happens just get them in place. We’ve gone over this already Peter…” A door opens and shuts as someone walks in backwards, “Peter? Peter? Damn…. Oh no….” The oh no might account for the fact that once shut the door disappears. “No nononono… damnit Milliways!!” Only Petra Arkanian could say the word and make it sound like a swear word.
Part of this might be her costume. She looks very little like the toughened soldier she resembled when she left the bar a few weeks ago. Her hair is a deep red, and she is dressed in a long black dress with her hair up. Once upon a time her ears were not pierced, but now they are. Her face has been artfully painted, and to top it off a black cat rests in the crook of her arm.
“Damn it bar… Why? Why?!” Her disgust is evident as she turns around and talks to the bar. Instead of an answer a dish of tuna appears and the cat jumps down and begins munching on it.
“Glad /you’re/ happy Kit. Bar, send me back.” The door doesn’t reappear but a glass of wine and a book does. “Bar I can not be here. I’ve got my duties back home.” The bar doesn’t seem to care very much. “I can’t even pay my tab, so unless you can pull from my account back home….” A note appears, done. She’s getting rather frustrated, but continues to argue with it.
It is quite possible no one will recognize the ex-battle school brat. Then again, her voice is quite unmistakable. Anything is possible.