rakiandpaperwork

[rakiandpaperwork]

What the fornication was that about, indeed. Even inside his own mind, Hakan avoided foul language whenever possible - to him it was a verbal void grenade, perhaps even a verbal virus bomb, to be employed sparingly and only in the direst of conditions. It made the release far more emotionally satisfying and the impact far greater.

He scanned the surrounding area with a frown, his bionic whirring softly as he switched between its various settings. Nothing. It had clearly flown beyond his sight, no doubt to cause more trouble or report their location and numbers to some enemy sorcerer. The Commissar resisted the urge to sigh in a melancholy, long-suffering fashion. Self-pity was never an attractive quality.

Nearby, the medic alternated between worrying for her equipment, which was being extracted from the collapsed tent by a hastily-assembled team of Guards, and her patient. She'd only managed to to the minimum before they'd been so rudely interrupted. But the minimum would have to do, for now. At the very least M'rez wasn't walking around with an open, dirty wound on display.

Not long after, Valentine trotted back into view with a young man trailing behind him. At first glance, he seemed quite pleasant - a boyish face, tan and freckled as was standard for the regiment, with playfully disheveled hair the colour of strong, dark coffee. But the moment he came within fifteen feet, his aura of jarring wrongness became apparent and his agreeable first impression curdled into something sickening. The gleaming white smile that charmed from a distance was now the cold, empty grin of a xeno predator.

As the two approached, Hakan straightened his spine and planted his feet firmly, every cell in his body weren't screaming at him to flee or fight. Objectionable though he might be as a person, Flores couldn't help the way he was born. Life had heaped enough punishment onto his shoulders without Hakan adding to it.

"Ah, Flores. There you are." Despite himself, he shifted slightly as his side throbbed. Osee Flores always made his scars ache, though he could never put his finger on why. Valentine stopped a safe distance away from the Blank; Rocco was suddenly very interested in the tent.

"Someone causing trouble, Commissar?" Flores' eyes landed on the newcomer; Hakan could almost see him scanning for her weak spots. Cracks in her armour where he could aim his barbed, poisoned words. "I didn't know we were taking in lost lambs these days... Though this one looks like it hopped straight off the butcher's slab."

"A wounded civilian." Hakan said, dismissively. "But that is another subject entirely. There is an enemy sorcerer abroad - they have sent one of their imps or lesser daemons to spy on us, and sabotage our equipment. Rocco, no doubt, can trail the wretched beast to its master's lair - but you are best suited to destroying them both."

Flores' face lit up with a ghastly grin of sadistic glee, all but rubbing his hands together at the thought of hunting a witch or two. "Oh, lucky day. It's been a hot minute since I last hunted a sorcerer..."

"Hmm. And how lucky for you that your duty also happens to be your hobby." Hakan couldn't resist a sniping word; for his part, Flores merely smiled. "I will inform Lieutenant Caron of what has just occured - in the meanwhile, prepare yourself to move out. Now, Mr'ez, what of you? What shall we do with you for the meantime?"

The Commissar regarded the strange woman with a raised brow. Even his long years of service hadn't prepared him for the task of keeping a wounded off-world civilian alive in the middle of a battlefield. What were they to do - deposit her in a tent somewhere and hope she didn't stray into the line of fire, or fall victim to a bombing raid? Put her to work peeling potatoes?

ღ [rakiandpaperwork]

Anastasia winced in pain as she brought her left leg around to examine the wound that had been afflicted to it as she was making her way back towards the civilian safe zone. Auto-gun round from the look of it, clean through the middle and severing some vital tendon. Good shot cowboy, she thought darkly. Immediately she crawled to shelter beneath some rubble and got to work stopping the bleeding with her powers and then seemed to remember that it could’ve come from anyone or anywhere. She poked her head just barely out of the fissure she just crawled through and looked around, eyes scanning for any possible threat.

@rakiandpaperwork

[rakiandpaperwork]

01 What is your muse’s sense of humour like? What’s their favourite joke? How do they react to humour from people around them? Can they laugh at themselves?

"Mordicant, in a word. That is to say, dry, acrid, and biting. As cold an incisive as a surgeon's scalpel. It reflects the nature of the galaxy in its darkness. Holds a mirror up to the decidedly cruel and unlovely face of reality. Or so I like to tell myself. In reality, it is far more likely that I am merely a saturnine and cantankerous old goat who mistakes the sour dregs of a wine bottle for the nectar of wisdom.

I don't... have a favourite witticism or wisecrack that I can recite at will, so I am afraid I must pass by that question.

How do I react to the humour of others? Hmm. Not as well as I would like. For the most part, their jokes sail so far above my head they threaten the structural integrity of void-ships in high orbit. Ah, see? I made a joke. A whimsical comparison. Now, whether or not it was actually amusing is another question entirely... At any rate, their humour is usually far too salacious and scatological for my tastes, even when it's not at my expense. In that sense, I find it challenging in the extreme to laugh at myself - one must maintain a sense of dignity and control in this role, or run the risk of ruin. Jokes aimed towards me are, according to the letter of the law, insubordination.

Not that I enforce said rule more than once in a blue moon.

Otherwise? The so-called God-Emperor - or some other entity - quite obviously finds me a fine figure of fun and draws endless amusement from the deep well of my suffering. So why not join in with the fun now and again?"

Valentine nodded sagely and snagged another lokum from the Commissar's plate, before Hakan could move to stop his aide - even if he had wanted to. "Dick jokes. Dick jokes are always funny."

[rakiandpaperwork]

July - 31 Character Headcanon Questions:

01 What is your muse’s sense of humour like? What’s their favourite joke? How do they react to humour from people around them? Can they laugh at themselves? 02 Do they believe in aliens? Have they ever seen a UFO? 03 How do they feel about the environment? Are they at one with nature? An eco-warrior? 04 How well do they work in a team? Do they cooperate well with others or prefer to work alone? 05 What is their favourite food? In their opinion, what’s the best kind of comfort food? What would they eat if they wanted to treat themselves? 06 How do they like to be kissed? What do they do with their hands while they���re kissing? 07 How easily do they grant forgiveness? How would they go about trying to earn forgiveness if they were in the wrong? 08 What activity will make your muse nostalgic for their childhood? 09 What is their favourite animal? 10 What is their cocktail of choice? 11 Have they ever been skinny-dipping? Would they in the future? 12 What kind of education did they receive? Did they enjoy their school days? 13 What’s your muse’s favourite thing about their hometown? How often do they go back? 14 What’s their self-image like? Do they like their body? What makes them feel good in their skin? 15 What were they like as a child? What hobbies or passions did they have? 16 What fears do they have? Are they irrational or was there an event that prompted the fear? 17 What are they like when texting? Do they write in full, grammatically-correct sentences or text speak? Do they use emojis? 18 Do they have many regrets in life? If they could go back in time to change one choice they made, what would it be? 19 Favourite ice-cream favour? 20 Can they play chess? If so, how good are they? Do they enjoy it? 21 Does your muse bake? Do they enjoy the process or the results more? 22 What do they do after a long day if they need to relax? How do they spend their days off? 23 What are their relationships with their grandparents like? 24 How big is their extended family? Are they close? How often do they speak or see one another? 25 What is their go-to fancy-dress outfit? Do they enjoy dressing up? 26 How do they take their coffee? 27 How do they show love? 28 How healthy are they? Are they conscious of keeping fit or maintaining a healthy diet? 29 Do they wear makeup? 30 How easily do they make friends? What’s a surefire way to kick-start a friendship with them? 31 How tech-competent are they?

[rakiandpaperwork]

Hug my Muse and I’ll write their reaction!

[rakiandpaperwork]

[Continued from here]

On the other side of the tent, the Commissar was also wondering where their enemy had vanished to. Since the group that ambushed them had been destroyed, he'd seen precious little of the enemy. Only distant gunfire, crackling voices over the vox, and a thin trickle of wounded coming in from the front to be treated. Could it be they were... avoiding this place? That something even traitors shunned lurked nearby?

Hakan shook his head. Nonsense. Superstitious piffle. Arse-gravy of the worst kind. He was ashamed of himself for entertaining such foolish ideas, even for a moment. There was a perfectly mundane explanation behind it all, he was sure.

Except something in his gut was telling him otherwise, and he couldn't quash the feeling. Turning around and seeing the mysterious Miss Mr'ez glancing about in a perturbed manner did nothing to help matters. He was about to open his mouth and ask what the matter could possibly be when, before his eyes, the once sturdy tent began to bow and sag alarmingly.

That... was not meant to happen. "...How?" he asked nobody in particular, realising at once how useless the question was. He heard the medic swear as she realised what was happening, at once at her patient's side ready to aid Mr'ez out of the tent. After a moment of thought - could he, with the aid of his chainsword, act as a temporary tent-pole? - before following them out, hoping to avoid the crush of falling canvas. Thankfully, with his height, he could at least keep it clear of the other's heads simply by raising his arm a little.

As soon as they got outside, Hakan saw a little crowd had formed, all come around to stare at the strange scene. "Are you planning to stand there and gawp like malfunctioning servitors, or are you going to help?" he snapped, causing them all to spring into action. Confused, aimless action that seemed to involve a lot of running about and getting under each other's feet. Throne help them all.

Only Rocco stayed where she was, looking infuriatingly and inexplicably triumphant. Smugly so, in fact. "I told you! I told you that bird was up to no good! It was pecking at the tent the entire time you were in there... See? Aren't you glad I stayed and kept an eye on it?"

Hakan frowned. "You mean to say that... an animal brought down this tent?" He looked about, hoping to spot the strange, mutant creature. A hand strayed automatically to the laspistol at his side. If there were Chaos-worshippers and traitor Guards about, then there could be corrupted psykers. The bird could be an imp or lesser daemon bound to mortal flesh, sent to wreak havoc in their camp. "Have you seen Trooper Flores anywhere recently? Valentine!" He addressed his aide, who'd just come up to see what the fuss was about. "Fetch Flores."

Valentine saluted and hurried off to fetch the regiment's sole Blank, weaving away through the tents and out of sight. "Now," the Commissar sighed. "How will I explain this to the good Lieutenant?"

ღ [rakiandpaperwork]

Anastasia winced in pain as she brought her left leg around to examine the wound that had been afflicted to it as she was making her way back towards the civilian safe zone. Auto-gun round from the look of it, clean through the middle and severing some vital tendon. Good shot cowboy, she thought darkly. Immediately she crawled to shelter beneath some rubble and got to work stopping the bleeding with her powers and then seemed to remember that it could’ve come from anyone or anywhere. She poked her head just barely out of the fissure she just crawled through and looked around, eyes scanning for any possible threat.

@rakiandpaperwork

[rakiandpaperwork]

Send 🎁 for the receiving muse's reaction to getting a gift from the sending muse.

Remember to specify muse for multi-muse blogs!

[rakiandpaperwork]

[Continued from here]

If the strange sensation of recognition had also crossed the Commissar's thoughts, it was just as fleeting as Mr'ez's own. He'd seen many different faces in his half-century of life; it wasn't worth his while pondering which one, exactly, her's reminded him of. And if she thought she recognised him? Could be she'd met some of his far-flung family members. Or perhaps she'd simply noted his uncanny resemblance to the myriad depictions of their God-Emperor crammed into every available space in this benighted Imperium.

It didn't take him overlong to find what he was seeking. Guard uniforms were 'one size fits none' so they had plenty of belts - or elasticated strips with metal hooks and loops that passed for belts - going spare, to ensure there were no embarrassing incidents.

As he returned to the medic's station, Hakan spotted the regiment's sole sanctioned psyker, Nona Rocco, leaning against a tree nursing a wounded arm and gazing keenly at the top of the tent. Following her gaze, he spotted the red-eyed bird. The Commissar sighed. And he'd thought it was something serious. "Good to see not all wildlife has been driven from this place." he noted, wondering what strange evolution caused a bird to grow twice the normal appendages. He was tempted to ask - but not where others could hear him.

"There's something about it I don't like." the pyromancer grumbled, creating a tiny flame with a click of her fingers. "I should burn it."

"And take the whole medicae tent down with it? Save your fire for the traitors, not some dumb beast." Hakan scolded. "If you're so keen to fight, soldier, then take yourself off where you'll be of use."

Rocco grumbled something under her breath as the Commissar ducked into the tent. The medic was still hard at work disinfecting, stitching, and bandaging the wound, though from his brief glance at the wound Mr'ez would be far better served at a hospital. But the only hospital for many miles had been razed to the ground by the traitors, all doctors and patients trapped inside, so that was no option. Her care would have to serve them for now.

"I apologise in advance - the measurements of these seem designed for a body-shape possessed by no living human being. But I should imagine they're far preferable to running about bare-legged." he said, avoiding looking at said bare legs as he placed the folded trousers on the bed next to her alongside a water bottle and ration bar.

ღ [rakiandpaperwork]

Anastasia winced in pain as she brought her left leg around to examine the wound that had been afflicted to it as she was making her way back towards the civilian safe zone. Auto-gun round from the look of it, clean through the middle and severing some vital tendon. Good shot cowboy, she thought darkly. Immediately she crawled to shelter beneath some rubble and got to work stopping the bleeding with her powers and then seemed to remember that it could’ve come from anyone or anywhere. She poked her head just barely out of the fissure she just crawled through and looked around, eyes scanning for any possible threat.

@rakiandpaperwork

[rakiandpaperwork]

Hello, dear! You've been visited by the random character question fairy! :D ~☆

What is your character's aesthetic? Do they purposely maintain this aesthetic, or is it more spontaneous?

“...my aesthetic? Which meaning of the term, exactly, does this refer to? My ‘set of principles underlying the work of a particular artist or artistic movement’? Or my ‘appreciation of beauty’?” Hakan’s brow wrinkled in an expression of perfect puzzlement as he attempted to parse the query.

Valentine glanced up from his magazine to help the Commissar from his mire of confusion. “They mean what do you like to wear. How do you decorate your room. What kind of stuff you like looking at. Your general vibes.”

“Oh, I see now. At least, I assume I do.” Hakan looked around his office space, weighing up all he saw. “...a military one, I suppose? By necessity, mind, not choice. I can hardly pick and choose what I wear in this line of work. A rather gothic, baroque aesthetic, like the rest of the Imperium. But, given my own choice, I suppose my choices are... academic in nature? I enjoy old leather-bound books, quiet libraries, the sight of young minds being filled with knowledge. You know, all the trappings of a learned man. Is that an aesthetic - academia? Oh, it is? But also I could be said to enjoy the aesthetics of nature. Especially the mountains and forests. Not that I’d like to live in a wild wood, as tempting as being away from the madding crowd is. I need my creature comforts, things only civilisation and provide.”

“I don’t like forests.” Valentine shivered. “They’re scary. Downright unnatural, having all those trees in one place like that.”

Hakan sighed deeply.

[rakiandpaperwork]

The Commissar and the medic exchanged a glance that clearly communicated their joint disbelief of that little theory. If it was the stims responsible for the lack of bleeding, the medic's expression spoke plainly, then she was Sanguinius of the Blood Angels. No stim she was aware of caused such localised blood clotting. Surely, if anything, the increased heart rate would have seen her bleed out faster. She quirked a brow, not sure whether to minister this mysterious stranger's wounds or save herself the effort of bandaging soon-to-be corpse.

Hakan, conscious that the medic was deferring to his judgement of the situation, turned a probing gaze to Mr'ez. From their very brief acquaintance, he could already tell she was quite the enigma. Though she was plainly lying to him, and had told him more than one falsehood before, he read little malice in those words. And she had also told him the truth - far as Hakan could tell, her tale of being a civilian in the wrong place was the actual course of events. Of course, it was but on small piece of a large puzzle, but it was true.

If it so happened she was an enemy of Chaos, as they were, then he wasn't one to turn up his nose at a potential ally. Even an injured one.

So he inclined his head slightly in approval and assent, a signal for the medic to begin treating Mr'ez's wound. When it turned out she'd have to cut the trouser leg to inspect it, Hakan turned away modestly, not wanting to impinge on her privacy. He ducked out of the tent to find Valentine, requesting that he find a spare pair of uniform trousers for their unexpected guest.

ღ [rakiandpaperwork]

Anastasia winced in pain as she brought her left leg around to examine the wound that had been afflicted to it as she was making her way back towards the civilian safe zone. Auto-gun round from the look of it, clean through the middle and severing some vital tendon. Good shot cowboy, she thought darkly. Immediately she crawled to shelter beneath some rubble and got to work stopping the bleeding with her powers and then seemed to remember that it could’ve come from anyone or anywhere. She poked her head just barely out of the fissure she just crawled through and looked around, eyes scanning for any possible threat.

@rakiandpaperwork

[rakiandpaperwork]

[Continued from here]

Stepping back mentally from the situation, Hakan wasn't entirely sure why he'd be so familiar - positively garrulous, one might even go far as to say - with a woman he'd met only minutes before. Emperor's blood, he wasn't so forthcoming with most of his regiment. He'd never describe himself as a 'social butterfly', but was he really so starved of positive human contact that he'd blather into the ear of the first soul who didn't approach him with a weapon? It was pitiful to be so emotionally needy, it really was. He needed to 'get a grip', as the saying went, and act as befitting his rank; people in his position didn't have the luxury of friends.

Fortunately, Hakan was distracted from these self-pitying ruminations by a sudden shiver down his spine. The faint but nagging feeling of being watched - but no indication of who by, only that it was not a friendly gaze. Judging by the way Mr'ez glanced about, he wasn't the only one who felt it. But no matter where he cast his eyes, Hakan saw nothing but his own troops, going off to their stations to resupply and refuel, and a cultist's corpse.

"Hmm." He flicked through the infra-red and zoom settings of his bionic. Nothing. That should be a relief but only unsettled him further.

Hakan met Caron's gaze, reading the question in the quick flick of her brow. He shrugged a shoulder in reply and received a frown, before she shook her head and looked back to her maps. So whatever the outcome of his charity was, she was placing it firmly on the Commissar's shoulders. Very well. He could bear it.

Automatically, he brushed the tent flap open and held while Mr'ez entered, as he would a door. Inside, it was the typical display of uncomfortable beds and old-but-functional equipment. The medic on duty was laying out bandages and disinfectant; she waved at the Commissar to deposit his passenger on a bed. Only when they came around to inspect the patient did a look of puzzled concern appear on their face. "An auto-gun shot to the leg? I'm surprised you haven't bled out by now... Actually, this wound doesn't seem to be bleeding at all."

ღ [rakiandpaperwork]

Anastasia winced in pain as she brought her left leg around to examine the wound that had been afflicted to it as she was making her way back towards the civilian safe zone. Auto-gun round from the look of it, clean through the middle and severing some vital tendon. Good shot cowboy, she thought darkly. Immediately she crawled to shelter beneath some rubble and got to work stopping the bleeding with her powers and then seemed to remember that it could’ve come from anyone or anywhere. She poked her head just barely out of the fissure she just crawled through and looked around, eyes scanning for any possible threat.

@rakiandpaperwork

[rakiandpaperwork]

Random Headcanon Meme!

⍤ : What does your muse’s voice sound like? Is it light? High pitched? Scratchy? Deep?

✍ : What is your muse’s handwriting like? Is it neat? Sloppy? Fancy?

☕ : Does your muse prefer coffee or tea?

⌚ : Is your muse good with keeping on schedule for meetings, appointments, or events, or are they always late? Or, are they always a bit early?

♿ : Has your muse had any injuries in the past?

☺ : What is your muse’s smile like? Do they smile often?

⚡ : How does your muse feel about storms? Are they afraid of them, or do they calm them?

⚠ : How does your muse react to possibly dangerous situations? Do they face them head-on, or do they plan out their actions first?

☃  : What is your muse’s favorite season? What about their least favorite season, if they have one?

☂  : Does your muse like rain?

☼ : Does your muse like daytime or nighttime more?

🏨  : How well does your muse sleep?

❤ : What are your muse’s thoughts on love? If they are not in a relationship, do they believe that they will ever find a perfect someone for them?

☘ : Does your muse believe in luck? How about fate?

⚯ : Does your muse have good eyesight? If not, what is it like? Are they nearsighted or farsighted? Or both? Do they use glasses? Or do they prefer contacts?

👓 : If your muse wears glasses, what are their glasses frames like?

♨ : Does your muse have good table manners? How do they feel about bad table manners?

❀ : What is your muse’s opinion about flower crowns?

♬ : Does your muse sing well? Regardless of whether they sing well or not, do they enjoy singing?

📐 : Is your muse good at math? Do they like it, or do they hate it?

♞ : What is your muse’s favorite animal?

εїз : How does your muse feel about bugs and insects?

📱 : Does your muse prefer calling or texting?

☆ : Of the sun, stars, and the moon, which is your muse’s favorite?

ツ : Does your muse prefer lots of friends, or just a few close ones?

✝ : Is your muse religious?

[rakiandpaperwork]

War and Combat Centric Asks

♦ - What does fighting mean to your muse, and how different are they during battle?

♢ - What abilities does your muse possess that makes them an effective fighter?

♠ - What is your muse’s weapon of choice? Is it magical or mundane in nature?

♤ - Given a chance to learn and use a combat ability or magic they don’t possess, what would your muse choose?

♣ - Is your muse particularly merciless or do they leave their opponents relatively whole after a fight? Why?

♧ - Does your muse have any regrets about a battle or incident they had to fight in? Has it changed them?

♥ - Is there an opponent they’ve fought they’ve grown particularly attached to, love or hate?

♡ - If your muse were rendered unable to fight, what about them would change? Would they be able to handle it?

☊ - Give a list or description of particularly notable battles in your muse’s history. Do any stand out?

☋ - Does your muse believe in the ‘brothers and sisters of battle’ concept, growing close to their fellows, or are they distant from others?

⇖ - Is your muse attached to any particular weapon or piece of equipment they own?

⇘ - Has your muse ever used a combat vehicle or siege weapon in battle? Were they enthusiastic about it?

✓ - Has your muse ever lost anyone they cared about on the battlefield? Do they feel responsible?

✗ - Has your muse ever been a victim of friendly fire or been betrayed during a fight? How did they react?

☌ - Is your muse famous or infamous in their world for a battle or fight? Do they embrace or shy away from it?

☍ - Does your muse draw any inspirations for their combat style or spells from their past or the world they live in?

⇈ - Does your muse knowingly or unknowingly draw on any kind of power when they fight? Describe it?

⇊ - Does your muse have many scars or lasting effects from a battle? If not, do they keep any trophies or reminders?

⌤ - Is your muse uncomfortable outside of combat? Do they have problems socializing or relaxing?

™ - Do any inspirations for how your muse fights come from other media? List or describe them.

☎ - Describe your muse in RPG class or archetype terms. Do you actively push for them to be like this, or is it just a comparison point?

↫ - Is there a real life martial art or fighting style that you draw heavily on for your character?

▶ - Do you have trouble writing your muse getting injured or hurting others? Describe what process you use to deal with it.

[rakiandpaperwork]

"Thank the God-Emperor for our heroes, say I, so that we may never run dry of names for streets." He knew it was incredibly petty but Hakan couldn't help but feel a touch of envy - there would never be a Burakgazi Park, nor even a Chlebek Road. But what other monikers could they hang on the place? Rare was the Imperial city that still harbored trees or any landmarks aside from grey rocrete.

Hakan's mismatched gaze followed Mr'ez's pointing hand down the street, examining the state of it with a frown. Thankfully it wasn't too far but with the condition the road's surface was in, it may as well be twice the journey. He had to admit to himself he was a touch impressed that Mr'ez had managed so well so far, given the state of her leg. A cold, pragmatic part of his mind commented that most in his position never have bought her this far in the first place.

Which, in a fashion, made him all the more determined to bring her along, whether she had one leg beneath her or no legs at all.

As they drew closer, Valentine pointed up at one of the few intact roofs. "I can see Pittiluga up there, with a rifle. Oh, there's Zientek, too. They must be basing down in the park."

"That seems the most likely course." There were far worse places for a forward base of operations than a city park.

True to Valentine's word, there was a makeshift base taking form between the remaining trees of the decidedly battered park. A long-range vox hailer, a rough medic's station, and Lieutenant Marciana Caron pouring over a picnic table full of maps. She looked up with a frown, following the pair's progress towards the medic's tent.

ღ [rakiandpaperwork]

Anastasia winced in pain as she brought her left leg around to examine the wound that had been afflicted to it as she was making her way back towards the civilian safe zone. Auto-gun round from the look of it, clean through the middle and severing some vital tendon. Good shot cowboy, she thought darkly. Immediately she crawled to shelter beneath some rubble and got to work stopping the bleeding with her powers and then seemed to remember that it could’ve come from anyone or anywhere. She poked her head just barely out of the fissure she just crawled through and looked around, eyes scanning for any possible threat.

@rakiandpaperwork

[rakiandpaperwork]

Mr'ez, Mr'ez... It didn't sound like a name that hailed from this city, or this world, from what little he'd managed to see of it. But the Imperium in general was such a melting-pot it was hard to make a judgement. For all he knew, she could be the product of coupling between a local and a passing Guardsman who inherited her father's name. But that was hardly any of his concern as of this moment.

"Good. This way, then." Hakan said, starting to steer her in the right direction. The burst of gunfire had him glance over one shoulder, silently attempting to calculate their location and how long the group had before the battle was all but on top of them. He looked to one of the Guards. "See if you can reach the main group on the vox again, and tell them we have a wounded civilian."

Unfortunately, progress was slow even without a walking wounded in tow. Piles of rubble needed to be wended around or clambered over; fragments of scattered debris threatened to trip the unwary foot. Fissures the width of a grown man's hand or wider split the tarmac and craters yawned several feet deep. Here and there, water and sewage pipes had split and sent cascades down the pavement. They had to be wary when fording these streams, as electrical wires dipped into some and turned the water's touch deadly.

"I got an update, Commissar." the Guard said. "They say they're near a park, or something like that?"

ღ [rakiandpaperwork]

Anastasia winced in pain as she brought her left leg around to examine the wound that had been afflicted to it as she was making her way back towards the civilian safe zone. Auto-gun round from the look of it, clean through the middle and severing some vital tendon. Good shot cowboy, she thought darkly. Immediately she crawled to shelter beneath some rubble and got to work stopping the bleeding with her powers and then seemed to remember that it could’ve come from anyone or anywhere. She poked her head just barely out of the fissure she just crawled through and looked around, eyes scanning for any possible threat.

@rakiandpaperwork

[rakiandpaperwork]

OC Asks

 What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about?

 What is the color of your OC’s eyes/hair/skin?

 How tall is your OC?

What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night?

What is one word you would use to describe your OC’s appearances?

Does your OC have any markings, such as a birthmark or a scar?

How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like?

What does your OC’s bedroom look like?  His/her living area?

What does your OC keep in a special drawer?

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her mother?

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her father?

How many siblings does your OC and what is his/her relationship with them?

Who is the mother and/or father figure in your OC’s life?

What was your OC’s childhood like?

What is your OC’s strongest childhood memory? Why and how as that impacted him/her?

What is your OC’s imagination like?

How many times did your OC move as a child?  Which area was his/her favorite?

What does your OC think of children- either in general or about having them?

What kind of mother/father would your OC be?

Who are your OC’s closest relatives?

Who is/are your OC’s closest friend(s)?

Who are the people your OC surrounds him/herself with?

Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates?

If your OC has a soulmate, who is it?

Why does your OC and his/her soulmate work so well together?

What are some things your OC admires about his/her soulmate?

How did your OC and his/her soulmate meet?

What is your OC’s level of education?

Did your OC participate in extracurricular activities, and if so, what were they?

What is your OC’s opinion of school?  What kind of student was s/he?

What subjects did your OC excel at?

What subjects interested your OC?

What is your OC’s dream job and/or current profession?

How is your OC working towards his/her dream job and/or achieved his/her current profession?

What are your OC’s thoughts/opinions of his/her current profession?

What is your OC’s biggest dream?

How does your OC react to and handle stress?

How does your OC handle anger?

How does your OC handle grief?

What is your OC’s greatest fear?

What makes your OC happy?

What kind of sense of humor does your OC have?

What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

What are some things that annoy your OC?

If your OC has them, what are some regrets s/he has?

How easily does your OC forgive?

What are some of your OC’s vices?

If your OC experienced trauma, what was it?

What secrets does your OC have?

What are some of your OC’s morals?

What are some of your OC’s motivations?

What is the health of your OC?

Does your OC think with his/her head or heart?

What are your OC’s thoughts on death?

What are some of your OC’s strengths?

What are some of your OC’s weaknesses?

How does your OC take criticism?

What does your OC think of him/herself?

If your OC could change one thing about him/herself, what would it be?

What is the general impression your OC gives other people?

How emotionally/mentally vulnerable is your OC with other people?

How does your OC display love?

What are some habits your OC has picked up?

What is your OC’s favorite drink?

What is your OC’s favorite food?

What is your OC’s favorite sweet?

What is your OC’s favorite season?

What is your OC’s favorite kind of weather?

What is your OC’s favorite book?

What is your OC’s favorite movie and/or TV show?

What is your OC’s favorite kind music (and song if there is one)?

What is your OC’s favorite form of entertainment?

What is your OC’s favorite color?

What is your OC’s favorite scent?

What is your OC’s favorite animal?

What is your OC’s favorite sound?

What is your OC’s favorite time of day?

What is your OC’s favorite kind of ice cream?

What is your OC’s favorite dinosaur?

Ask your own question.

[rakiandpaperwork]

some-old-psyker Ana saw their skepticism. She couldn’t blame them really, she would be too if she were in their shoes. Random wounded lady seemingly stuck helpless and by herself behind enemy lines? Yeah, when one thought about it, it did seem pretty suspect. She snorted at the Commissar’s little joke. “Story of my life.” The sound of gunfire reached her ears as well and she made another effort to stand only to receive aid from the Commissar’s outstretched hand. She took it, making no such moves to stab or shoot, and rose shakily to roughly a standing position on one leg. “Well at least one of them still works!”

"I would make some droll remark about not having a leg to stand on, but I daresay you've suffered enough this day without my witticisms." Hakan said. Valentine mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like 'never stopped you before' and his fellow Guards snickered. Hakan gave them a frosty glare; they silenced themselves instantly.

The Commissar's hand was strong and solid, his grip firm. Very solid, in fact, since it was made of metal. He soon had her back on her feet; with his height and general broadness, there was little chance of either losing their balance. As he lifted her, Hakan noted her lack of hostile actions. Though it wasn't enough to tip the needle entirely, as she could be merely biding her time until they were unobserved, it was a point in her favour.

Now upright, Hakan noted that the top of her head only just brushed his chin. To put his hand on an unfamiliar young woman's waist would be improper, and to place it on her ribcage bordering on unseemly, so he steadied her with a careful grip to the opposite shoulder.

"Small mercies, I suppose." he sighed. "The rest of the regiment will not be so far, I should think. Then we can have a medic examine your leg... Ah, but first - where are my manners? Commissar Burakgazi, with the Firdun 9th regiment. This is my aide, Valentine."

Valentine smiled and waved at the mention of his name.

ღ [rakiandpaperwork]

Anastasia winced in pain as she brought her left leg around to examine the wound that had been afflicted to it as she was making her way back towards the civilian safe zone. Auto-gun round from the look of it, clean through the middle and severing some vital tendon. Good shot cowboy, she thought darkly. Immediately she crawled to shelter beneath some rubble and got to work stopping the bleeding with her powers and then seemed to remember that it could’ve come from anyone or anywhere. She poked her head just barely out of the fissure she just crawled through and looked around, eyes scanning for any possible threat.

@rakiandpaperwork

[rakiandpaperwork]

"...I see." Hakan said, looking her from top to toe. Weighing up the plausibility and credibility of her story. She was certainly heading in the right direction, that much was true enough, but he found himself a little skeptical about the remainder. She seemed awfully calm for a civilian, given the grevious wound on her leg and the way she was gazing down the muzzles of five las weapons. He could tell the Guards were skeptical too, commenting under their breath to each other.

But then, wasn't he so proud of being flawlessly phlegmatic? Of keeping his cool in the midst of a firefight? There was a mundane explanation: she was merely in shock. A wound so large would easily cause it.

Once more, he shot a glance at Valentine from the corner of his eye. This time, appraising his reaction to the stranger. His aid might act like an insouciant, witless sybarite but Hakan knew him well enough to trust his judgement. "You appear to be taking it all in stride. Figuratively speaking." he said mildly. Just one of his little jokes.

Gunfire rattled not so far away- the Commissar didn't blink - and he seemed to come to a decision. Hakan made a small gesture to his troops, who lowered their weapons, before easing his own aim. he closed the distance and offered her his gloved right hand. "Here. This is no place to linger - I fear the cultists who ambushed us earlier are coming around for a second try."

ღ [rakiandpaperwork]

Anastasia winced in pain as she brought her left leg around to examine the wound that had been afflicted to it as she was making her way back towards the civilian safe zone. Auto-gun round from the look of it, clean through the middle and severing some vital tendon. Good shot cowboy, she thought darkly. Immediately she crawled to shelter beneath some rubble and got to work stopping the bleeding with her powers and then seemed to remember that it could’ve come from anyone or anywhere. She poked her head just barely out of the fissure she just crawled through and looked around, eyes scanning for any possible threat.

@rakiandpaperwork