SONJA THREADSsonny_delightAugust 18 2011, 05:38:06 UTC
At Lucifer's behest, Sonja spent a good two days stalking around the city with ash and a knife like her own personal highlighters, casting lines of hate and influence everywhere her hooks found purchase. Creeping through alleys, following people subtly enough to never be noticed, prowling the streets of the vast city at night to sense wells of anger, resentment, bitterness and hate she could sink her claws into. Houses or residences that seemed especially promising were marked: a small X of ash smeared into some oft-overlooked corner of the door, a dot of blood on the front step, something not decipherable as a symbol carved haphazardly into a windowsill
( ... )
Friday, Late morning, The mall?iceandivoryAugust 18 2011, 07:00:09 UTC
Hitsugaya Toushirou was tense and alert, even as he sorted through cans of fruits and vegetables in the otherwise empty shop. Hino had told him what she'd thought he needed to know, and he'd in turn informed others. He didn't know what good it would do, but doing nothing was not an option. It became increasingly difficult to do anything at all, however, when it seemed every lead wound up at a dead end. The damn headaches weren't helping either.
Stupid people always doing stupid things.
He sighed, choosing the corn and pear slices over the peas and peaches before standing up to move on.
Don't look now, but there's a woman over there stealing a TV.
Nothing to see here. Move along.
Ignore, if you will, the irresistible air she gives off of being someone desirable and important and intense. She's trying to loot over here: there are riots afoot, son.
He's got priorities, okay. :|iceandivoryAugust 18 2011, 20:42:38 UTC
Hitsugaya was utterly speechless at first. His brain was processing the sight, and yet communication between his brain and everything else had halted abruptly. This might have been the only reason he said anything at all.
"It won't work," he finally managed, a single brow raised, voice rife with a mixture of disbelief and condescension. Ignore someone else appearing important and intense? Easy as pie. "What the hell do you plan to use it for?"
Sonja stopped, turning to him with a complete I crap bigger than you look. "I have electricity." With a grunt she hefted it, adjusting her grip on the bottom of the TV. "And I missed the boat on Katrina."
Oh, goody- here was obviously another one of hers. With this much raw hatred poisoning the city air, she could have juggled a dozen TVs. She could have juggled cars and still had strength for the unicycle. Unseen, little tendrils of power wafted to him and started sinking slowly into his mind- influence worming in like creeping ivy, widening his cracks, loosening his foundation, and opening him up just a little more to the her in the air. That in mind, she made a bitchface and snapped, "You got a problem?"
He knew that look. He'd faced that look again and again for nearly fifteen years. It never, ever changed. That, more than anything she had said, aggravated him. He didn't even understand everything she'd said.
"Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, princess." Yes, it was time for immaturity. She knew well that petty needling and small annoyances could easily inflame tempers and hit their mark more truly than overt manipulation. "I'm sure the other girls will still like you."
♥ Thursday + the Wall work?coraltaijiyaAugust 18 2011, 07:05:43 UTC
Sango was, had always been, stubborn.
She'd been feeling it, just as any other resident of Adstringendum had: the uneasy, creeping sensation. For some it was pride; others, it was lust; still more, despair or jealousy. But for very many, it was wrath that crept up the backs of necks, seeped into muscles and tinted every movement with an edgy jerk of tightly-contained pressure.
But she was stubborn. She didn't just snap. And though her mind flicked to a certain half-demon who had taken from her everything she held dear (he was right here, after all, so close she could always feel him, always sense him, always know that somewhere he lurked to take even more away from her), though the vestiges of rage graced her consciousness far too many times, she hadn't snapped
( ... )
She jerked at the sudden contact, couldn't stop an embarrassing yelp of pain. She whirled to look for the source of the rock, frowning when her search came up empty-handed. She should've heard whatever it was approaching...
Sango's face turned towards irritation, her arms crossing over her chest. There was not a blink or a flinch at the second pebble (she was prepared now).
By the time she looked up Sonja was already there, a little girl standing too far away from any cover to have walked there like a normal person. She was all in white and looked distinctly eerie.
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Stupid people always doing stupid things.
He sighed, choosing the corn and pear slices over the peas and peaches before standing up to move on.
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Nothing to see here. Move along.
Ignore, if you will, the irresistible air she gives off of being someone desirable and important and intense. She's trying to loot over here: there are riots afoot, son.
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"It won't work," he finally managed, a single brow raised, voice rife with a mixture of disbelief and condescension. Ignore someone else appearing important and intense? Easy as pie. "What the hell do you plan to use it for?"
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Oh, goody- here was obviously another one of hers. With this much raw hatred poisoning the city air, she could have juggled a dozen TVs. She could have juggled cars and still had strength for the unicycle. Unseen, little tendrils of power wafted to him and started sinking slowly into his mind- influence worming in like creeping ivy, widening his cracks, loosening his foundation, and opening him up just a little more to the her in the air. That in mind, she made a bitchface and snapped, "You got a problem?"
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"Other than your blatant stupidity?"
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She'd been feeling it, just as any other resident of Adstringendum had: the uneasy, creeping sensation. For some it was pride; others, it was lust; still more, despair or jealousy. But for very many, it was wrath that crept up the backs of necks, seeped into muscles and tinted every movement with an edgy jerk of tightly-contained pressure.
But she was stubborn. She didn't just snap. And though her mind flicked to a certain half-demon who had taken from her everything she held dear (he was right here, after all, so close she could always feel him, always sense him, always know that somewhere he lurked to take even more away from her), though the vestiges of rage graced her consciousness far too many times, she hadn't snapped ( ... )
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That would be a smallish rock hitting Sango in the head. The person who threw it is nowhere to be seen.
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"...is anyone there?"
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"Very funny."
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"--if you want to fight me, don't be a coward about it."
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"Why would I want to fight you?"
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"Throwing rocks at me definitely signifies hostility."
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