#andreya roche

[colony22graphics]

The Mincing Mockingbird Guide to TROUBLED COLONISTS pt. 2 [x]

[colony22games]

OUTCOME - CYCLE 5, ROUND 4

ACTION CHOSEN: [EVADE]

Fortunately for ANDREYA, Brink had put a handful of people into lookout formations, and KODA PAYNE telepathically pops into her head to warn her about PERCY’S advance. Andee takes cover among the trees, then following Koda’s directions, is able to cross Percy’s axis of position and take the Delma by surprise. With a pistol to her temple, Percy is now captured and forced to follow Andee to BRINK captivity.

POINTS EARNED: [100]

This concludes CYCLE 5. Thank you to BRINK Representative, ANDREYA ROCHE!

UP NEXT: CYCLE 6, ROUND 1 - CALYSET - ELSA COPLAND

[persevans]

FMK: modius, roche, mccall

Fuck Andee because... obviously, marry Lissy, kill Clove. Or kiss. I don’t know, kill feels extreme but... either way he’s in that last spot.

@andreya-roche @clove-modius @lissy-mccall

[danbenzvi]

Just listened to: Fatboy Slim - “Everybody Loves A Mixtape Vol. 12: Best Of The Rest”

Track listing:

Chuck Roberts - “In The Beginning There Was Jack”

Roland Clark - “The DJ’s Prayer”

Brick - “Dazz (Hard Drive Library Remix)”

Louis La Roche - “One Big Gay Disco”

HP Vince - “One Drink One Pill”

Voost - “Sometimes It Hurts”

Federico Scavo - “Watchin’ Out”

Pizzaman - “Sex On The Streets”/The Cube Guys - “Drunk”/Stacy Kidd - “Motherfucker” (Mashup)

Dombresky & CID - “R.E.A.L.”

Skream - “Space Ghetto”

Tom Budin & Luciana - “What You Want”/Nicola Zucchi - “Shuffle” (Mashup)

PEACE MAKER! & First - “Isolation”

LP Giobbi & Crush Club - “O Retha”

Eric Powell - “Very Chic Blackman (Horatio Remix)”/Ol’ Dirty Bastard featuring Kelis - “Got Your Money” (Mashup)

Duran Duran - “Save A Prayer”/You & I - “Suitcase Stories (Sir G & Dirrrty Dirk Radio Remix)”/Shouse - “Love Tonight” (Mashup)

Fatboy Slim - “Sunset (Bird Of Prey)”

The Vision featuring Andreya Triana - “Heaven”

The Beatles - “The End”

[alois-the-real-boy]

A SECOND OPINION || alois & andee

[[ It’s something Alois has been dealing with since the games, subtle enough to get by but pervasive enough to be worrying; a stutter in his prosthetic fingers, one that as of yet hasn’t reacted well (read: at all) to his own attempts to remedy. He doesn’t necessarily mind spending sleepless nights on his arm -- so many of his nights are sleepless anyway -- but it’s getting to the point where he’s concerned it’s out of even his exceptional scope.

He’d spoken with Dr. Fitrei on it in the midst of the chaos of the games, and still needed to follow up with her properly. Alois was also, however, coming to the swift conclusion that another pair of eyes with mechanical expertise couldn’t possibly hurt.

Alois is exceptionally protective and possessive of his prosthetic. It’s far more to him than his independence and mobility; it’s his and his father’s legacies rolled into a single artifact. He knows it’s not the only van Asch still in existence, and it isn’t even the original -- he’d outgrown that one ages ago -- but to Alois, it’s irreplaceable. The thought of letting someone else work on it sets a heavy weight on his chest, one that has him dragging his feet in the days after the games when it comes to finding someone he deems suitable even to take a look.

Andreya Roche, he’d been told. Alois remembers her as Andee, the woman he’d caught in one of his sleeping spots in the auditorium. Alois the Saint, she’d called him in parting words. Seems as laughable a moniker now as it was then, but this isn’t the point. She’d bummed a cigarette and he’d liked her. It wasn’t much to go on for a professional recommendation, but it would have to be enough.

Alois finds her office without much difficulty, and is relieved to find it unoccupied save for the woman he’s here to see. He knocks at the open door frame in case his presence isn’t enough to get her attention. ]] Hi. Have a moment? [[ He’ll wait on her reaction to see if he needs to re-introduce himself or not; their meeting was brief and Alois would hardly take it personally. ]]

@andreya-roche​

[ajay-benitez]

lemonade, muthafu*kers | andee + ajay

@andreya-roche​​

[In his defence (because if he doesn’t defend himself, literally no one else will —except, okay, maybe Carrington, because he did officially defend him in a courtroom that one time but... he definitely wouldn’t defend him in this), he’s done the chores thing. Sure it’d taken him a while to get through it (they don’t supply ADD meds like they used to, yo) but he’s loaded the darks with the darks and the lights with the lights and he’s even pretty sure he’s kept the houses separated like he’s supposed to, and now he’s pushing around the little wheelie basket, debating on how well he’d fit, if he were to get in. 

Well. No better way to know than to try. Duh. So holding onto the top of one of the washers, he gingerly swings one leg in, holding his breath so as not to lose his balance and send the wheels sliding out from under him, and then the second. And then, with an unceremonious squat, he’s butt down in the cloth basket, spindly arms splaying out the sides.

Naturally, he reaches out to push off the edge of the washer and make himself roll (as one does when attached to wheels), and then is struck with an idea so great, he can hardly stand his own genius. He’s not sure at first if it’ll work but... a furrow of his thick, caterpillar brows and a surge of focus and he’s able to push with his Telekinesis against one of the washers and send himself rolling back in the process. He pauses. Smirks, broad and delighted.] 

Oh, hell yes, [he mutters to himself. Moving his hands accordingly, he somewhat messily pushes himself around the room, making an attempt to direct himself towards the door, though taking several indirect zig-zags in the process. He’s just starting to get the hang of it, and is telekinetically pushing himself out the door and into the corridor, when the sound of approaching steps have his head whipping around. 

Right. Public space. Shit. ] 

Uh—I can... explain? [It’s his go-to line, even though it’s never, ever true. And he doesn’t know why he still uses it, really. He’s shit at explaining even things that he’s not potentially going to get in shit for. He’s never been an articulate person.] 

[charlie-freakin-essex]

FMK: Cambie, Mira, Andee.

Andee, Cambie, Mira, respectively – only because I assume you can’t actually kill an android, so it feels like a loophole.

@andreya-roche; @cambieandrews; @mira-sigar

[cvnstantin]

hiraeth / andreya & constantin

@andreya-roche

[Constantin has given up trying to explain it to himself. Maybe it’s because the clouds have parted and he can see, once more, just how vast this tiny world is. Maybe it’s because he’d had a dream, last night, about asteroids and the freezing vacuum of space, and Ana hadn’t been with him. Maybe it’s just because he’s got a lot of issues to work through. He really has given up trying to pinpoint any one cause: all he knows is that some mornings, he wakes up and he simply feels like everything is wrong.

He wishes he could join the others in training, but Dr. Fitrei says he’s still not well enough. That’s part of the problem: he’s trapped in his mind, and he can’t share that with anyone because he struggles to communicate in English, and there’s hardly a whole host of people that speak Romanian waiting to connect with him. He had watched his roommates head out to training, sitting blankly on the edge of his bed. Tried to do some of his rehabilitation exercises. Fought against his shaking muscles. Failed. Cried, angry tears of frustration. Beat his fists against his useless legs. He feels so trapped, and he can’t go to Anaya. He can’t burden her with this, because he needs to be strong for her. He rarely lets her see him when he gets like this.

So he goes to CISM instead, hoping that perhaps someone there will have time for him. He doesn’t know what he needs, or wants. Just someone to hear him, he thinks. Every time he’s alone, black thoughts cloud his mind and he can’t fight them. They’re too loud, too demanding. When he opens the door, he sees only one person in the room. He’s not sure of her name, but he’s seen her around a few times as he passes through to therapy sessions. She seems young to be a therapist, but she does carry herself with the ease and confidence of someone older. The way she moves is so fluid and assured; she reminds Constantin of a dancer, somehow, and he feels ashamed of his own awkward, clumsy gait as he approaches her. He moves like the world is a heavy weight upon him, because it is,  and he knows his face still bears the marks of his earlier tears: red eyes lined with dark, clumped together lashes, cheeks sticky, hair a mess from where he had raked his fingers through it over and over. He feels particularly pitiful next to Andee: a natural beauty, at ease with life around her, face holding a sort of kindness even when there is no smile on it.] 

I have no appointment, but I can ask if there is anyone I can speak vith? Today is being difficult for me. [His voice is hoarse, but his words are blunt and to the point, spoken without hesitation. He’s long past worrying that people might think he’s weak if he admits that he is struggling. Everyone is struggling: he’s no less a man for admitting it.] 

[mitch--douglas]

UNREST || mitch & andreya

@andreya-roche​

[Originally this was a trip out of the building, having stuck around after scheduled training and losing track of time amid the thumps against the boxing dummy and droplets of sweat pattering onto the floor. Exercise is a wonderful reliever of all things pent up inside after a long day, but with the Games coming up, she realizes something she didn’t think would be important to her: out in the Wastes, she may have been the head of the clan, but she was by no means a fighter. Being physically fit and being ready for an attack were completely different. Though by no means soft around the belly, she has come to the conclusion that a body built by survival is not enough – she wants to feel powerful in those moments of uncertainty, so she’s been focusing on training for strength, not just to get through the day.

In between strikes, she notices how late it’s gotten by how quiet it is. Her eyes lift to the digital clock on the wall, the colon separating hours and minutes blinking at a steady but irritating pace. As if it’s telling her to hurry up, quit it, and go take a shower. Andee peels off the gloves and foot wraps and losses them in the “to wash” bin. She barely slips into her trainers when she hears a crash of what sounds like many objects all at once.

Indiscreetly following the noise, she ends up at the doorway of the open gym, seeing from behind a man with unmistakable curly hair. Andee leans against the threshold to watch as he lifts the mess together, his control remarkable, and the toys seem to sort themselves. Meticulous, she thinks, confident. Just like the rest of him.

What follows is troubling, only because it feels so out of character – a slow expulsion of rage, the crumpling of a tin can like it was made of foam and feathers, so easy it’s frightening. What could he do to people, she wonders, if aluminum is that simple and fragile? The thought erases from her mind the second she sees him turn around, but even she’s not fast enough to withdraw before he comes through the door and it nearly makes contact with her face.

She scoffs inside a breath, shaking her head.] No, I’m sorry. I was being nosy. That’s very impressive, what you were doing in there. I couldn’t help but watch.

[[ One didn’t have to be as good at names and faces as Mitch did to know who Andreya Roche was. She has the sort of infectious popularity that Cambie and even he himself can claim to enjoy, where it’s exceedingly difficult to run into someone -- NWRF excepted, perhaps -- who has anything bad to say about her. Mitch finds it easy to admire not only Andee’s intelligence but her compassion, having heard from a number of his students how effortless it is to talk and relate to her.

As such, Mitch smiles and give his head a quick, amiable shake to reassure her when Andee admits she was being nosy, pausing for just a moment to lock the door behind him before stepping into the hall proper. ]] Oh, no-- not at all, I don’t mind in the least. And-- thank you. [[ He adds, with a mild air of diffidence that she considered his work impressive. ]] I was just mucking around, honestly, I don’t get a lot of time outside of training to practice. [[ There’s also the understood implication that Mitch doesn’t feel comfortable practicing at more reasonable hours, given the watchful eye of the NWRF. ]]

I see you’ve been doing some training on your own? [[ Mitch won’t say he finds that impressive as well, in its own right, because that might come across strangely -- but he does feel that way, as one without a lot of physical strength or stamina. Outside of the Games Mitch still hopes he wouldn’t have much use for training, and inside the Games, he puts his reliance in his ability. ]]

[kidrebelmink]

But Girls love Girls and Boys (and love is not a choice) || Andee & Mink

@andreya-roche

[Mink had never been the kind of person to get into some kind of puppy love state. However, no matter how new it was, they fell into the “writing his name all over a piece of paper” mood as if it was natural. But not really writing his name everywhere, just on their blocked math paper that they were supposed to use for class. They felt a tiny bit bad about it, but alas drawing those little hearts with a M and a R together looked really nice. A tiny smile played on their lips, although they knew it might not turn into something. Spending time with Roy was great. There were so few people with whom Mink could discuss graphic novels. They missed their friends out in the Wastes, because of all they had been through and everything they had in common, spending time there was at least a hundred times better than staying here. Very often they dreamt of those friends, dreamt they were going on adventures.]

[Now, despite how Mink had tried to see the Colonials as a means to an end, they were actually making friends. People who they had things in common with, or just people they thought were cool and who also wanted to hang out with them. Annie, Roy, Corbin, just to name a few. Elly, Allie, Benji. They had started a book club with Annie, a comic book club with Roy. They spend time honing their skill with Elly, and were coming to terms with who they were and what their being here meant with Corbin. All these people that had started to mean something to them. Who they wanted to protect should they get their friends to take over.] 

[They shook away out of their daydreaming when they heard someone walking nearby. Quickly closing the math notebook. They looked up and saw Andee down the hall. A grin spread across their features, remembering the chocolate. Remembering the kindness and how Andee had carried herself as some kind of goddess. They wondered if they looked anything like Andee, if Roy would instantly like them... but the thought seemed so odd that they dismissed it.] Hey you. Got anymore chocolate?

[colony22graphics]

HERA ♚ andreya roche, goddess of women, family & childbirth

O royal Hera, of majestic mien, aerial-formed, divine, Zeus’ blessed queen, throned in the bosom of cerulean air, the race of mortals is thy constant care. The cooling gales they power alone inspires, which nourish life, which every life desires. Mother of showers and winds, from thee alone, producing all things, mortal life is known.

—orphic hymn 16 to hera | @andreya-roche

[the-colony-roleplay]

Due to inactivity without response, please unfollow Andreya. Her bio will be closed and moved over to NPCs. Amy, we wish you all the best and hope to hear from you in the future! 

[colony22games]

OUTCOME - CYCLE 1, ROUND 1

ACTION CHOSEN: [STEALTH]

MAISIE heads right to try to circle around her opponent undetected. But some twigs snap underfoot. Damnit. Rookie mistake. It’s enough to catch ANDREYA’s attention and she pulls out her gun. Maisie shoots once and misses, then a second time and connects with Andreya’s shoulder. Wounded, Andreya sprints into the bushes, presumably towards the lantern. Maisie calls out to warn her teammates, and makes chase.

POINTS EARNED: [50]

This concludes ROUND 1. Thank you to CALYSET Representative, MAISIE PACE!

UP NEXT: ROUND 2 - TORREN - CLOVE MODIUS

[teiloembry]

eyedust | andreya + teilo

@andreya-roche‌:

[Nothing feels stranger than the gaps of memory between the start and end of a nap. Might as well be waking up on a different planet. Bodies and brains so used to something being different at the end of a sleep, that it almost feels like a trick to still be somewhere in the same day, completely knocked off your feet. Andee rests her head back to orient herself with the late hour and the fact that she’s got the opportunity to go back to sleep – but her unattended tasks nudge her brain to get done now what she failed to do earlier. Good, locked up in the office at three in the morning, working out alone in the dark. Good ideas, Roche.

Her brows pop up with a smile as he admits to being restless. Relatable as much as anything. She remembers too vividly being completely unable to sleep when she first arrived at 22. Nightmares tucked in every corner of her eyes, each traumatic event replaying themselves throughout her dreams. These days her imagination is much calmer, her psyche more maintained, and the nightmares are infrequent at best. She sleeps like the dead.]

Think they call that insomnia. [She smirks in his direction.] I can imagine people have already told you all sorts of ways to cope with it, so I’ll spare you.

[The suggestion of tea perks her ears like a cat hearing a can of food being opened. Which reminds her, goddamnit, Figaro needs to be fed, unless one of her roommates took care of it.] God, yes, please. [Nothing like a good cuppa to still the nerves, even if she’s only semi-conscious. She swings her legs over the side of the sofa to fetch the water.] I love how quiet it is late at night – I say as I interrupt it by speaking. This kind of silence used to frighten me. Felt like I was always waiting for a disaster to ruin it.

[He mirrors her pensive smile, and there’s still ghosts that hang off it as he does. Just little harmless ones in the form of memories and things he doesn’t quite realize he misses until they make themselves known at the forefront of his thoughts with a quietly cheeky hullo.] They have. But you know... [A pause, as he shakes his head, grinning to himself as he blows gently at the steam rising from his mug.] I think I spent a lot of years not really wanting it fixed. I saw it as a... convenient opportunity to work longer hours, to get ahead, to come at that paper with yet another rewrite... [he shrugs] I realize now that it wasn’t the most logical of approaches. I realized it then, too, I suppose. But what can I say, even I’m not above temptation, [he quips lightly, teasing.

Sleep hadn’t been the only thing he’d willfully let go of in favour of putting his studies first. He rarely ate large meals, as he hated the way it made his body want nothing but to sleep immediately after, and if it wasn’t convenient, or quick, or something he could do while also pouring over his studies, he at times didn’t eat at all. And he’d known Sid had been more concerned about it than Teilo believed he had reason to be—it was sweet, the way his friend looked out for him, of course—but honestly he’d never seen it as a problem. He wasn’t without control over it, he felt sure. Sid had been less easy to convince.

With a smile and a nod, he grabs another mug from the modestly stocked cupboard near his head and rips open another tea bag for her. As he pours, he shakes his head.] Please, it’s not like I’m adverse to a bit of friendly company. Besides, if... the whole of the Colony is... an orchestra, say, then one voice is... [a pause as he considers, then looks up at her and walks the mug her way.] A string quartet, [he finishes with a small smile, passing her the drink.

He sits back down into the arm chair across from her.] By ‘used to’ do you mean... before D-Day, or after it?

[clove--modius]

disaster {awards reception}  // clove & andee

[She’s finally gotten out of the Catch, and is adjusting her scarf. It’s later than she’d intended to stay, certainly, but there were a few distracting conversations that, while not what she’d call enjoyable, had wasted a lot of her evening.]

[A young volunteer, one of the ones who had been slated to carry dishes back and forth from the kitchen, exits the back door with a tray full of dirty glasses. Apparently the facilities at the bar aren’t equipped to handle this volume of people---and Clove has had a few drinks herself, despite the quality of liquor available. Her water-only plan had lasted a while, but she’d turned desperate pretty quickly as more people had talked to her.]

[ It unfortunately does nothing to improve her mood watching the boy stumble. In the dim light that filters out from the windows, and the one lamp attached to the outside of the back door, he can’t see much of the ground and missteps, tripping over his own feet. The tray flies from his grip and lands with a crash, a tumbler narrowly missing Clove before it shatters on the dirt beside her.]

[He freezes, stupidly, and Clove loses the last of her patience. She steps over the shards of glass, and snatches the tray from the ground.] Excellent job. 

[The boy blinks at her, shock and something akin to terror etched over his young features, but she snaps more fiercely, as she crouches down and begins to pick up the bigger pieces, piling them back onto the tray.] I’ll deal with this. If you’re desperate to be helpful, you can go bring another light out here, so I can see what I’m doing---something you probably should’ve had in the first place. [He doesn’t need to be told twice, which is one small point in his favour, and flees back inside.]

@andreya-roche