A grey shape wings its way over the debris on the street; haphazardly, low to the ground so that its feet skim against upturned concrete. Freedom fits poorly on her if one were to be honest. The streets are too big and there is no ceiling, she had been used to ceilings in the past, she still likes ceilings now. Decided she does 606780 seconds ago. But then again no one is asking for honesty at the moment.
#͏3̵4̷6 029 2̨56̴ 0͠61-҉B hits the ground next to a crack in the road. She had been doing something but the smell of electricity in the soil makes her new instincts restless. She scratches with her wings and then her upper appendages ("hands") and pulls out a buried electricity cable, snapping a section free after some finagling, then sticks the live end into her face.
G̴͘o̸̷̢od̛ f͘͏ood̷̀.̢͠ oh yes she was in the middle of something.]
[ Her companion seems a better fit for the world around them, looking a bit more human; but looks are, of course, deceiving.
In lieu of a reply, a red sword falls smoothly to the ground and sinks itself into the ash-baked soil. Its owner lands on the solid-glass hilt a moment latter, standing on one foot like a very pretentious flamingo. Pink, pink, and pink; from his hair to his eyes and the vague patches of colour on a blood- and dirt-matted uniform. ]
Coming, coming, [ a lazy drawl as he hops off the sword and lets it shatter behind him. He dusts himself, though it's only for show. There's no dust on that cloth. ] What is it, then? You found the prey?
[She doesn't care about his aesthetic. In fact it benefits her, the standout pink makes him easier to see. She finds the pink immediately and then recognises the face- disregards the sword VFX, disregards the hand gesture against it's clothes. It's not a gesture she recognises, it's probably another one of those #justorganicthings.
What is it again-] ńn̢͞҉n̵̢̧̨͝n̡̧͟͡͡n̸͞
[Server error, status code: 500 error code: ????????? REBOOTING_
She twitches, feathers rustling, then flings the electricity cable away. Getting on in years, her mind's really not what it used to be.]
Hello Mr. Ritcher! It's nice to see you again. [give her some time she is working her way up to it.] I have checked for the signs you requested. There are two positive results in a 1-km radius.
It would be much easier if you had an email account, so I could send you the data directly.
[not even demonic infection will stop her from complaining about people's boomer habits. get on with the times please.]
[Here are two cryptids, playing a game of chicken. First one to blink loses?]
37°19'41.4"N 118°54'57.6"W, [she chirps immediately, then pauses. She is aware that Richter wants it in another format, in directions. Annoying. Extraneous. But humans (and richter) insist on translation to directions, so she puts her head down and works at it.
Things take longer to process these days.]
A hundred and fifty three meters in that direction, [she points, through a building.] I have a question, why can't you get email? Everyone can get email.
[ Very annoying. He's about to purse his lips and sigh before 016 tells him actually useful directions, so he lets out a deep sigh instead. ]
Cuz I'm not a human. Jeez, are you that forgetful?
[ No, she's just a roomba without contextual awareness. Still, he sets off at a brisk trot, wiping away his frustration with the thought of hunting. Much more pleasant. ]
Nonhumans can have emails. For example, companies, and androids. Things that are less intelligent too, for example, answering machines, [she calls after him, but concludes that the distance has put him out of earshot.
See, if he had an email she could just email him!! Or any kind of inbox, actually. Emails are just professional standard, her previous humans didn't want to give her their mobile device contacts at all, and she thinks she does not like Richter enough to give hers, assuming that this is a g͏est͝u͠re̡̕ ̛of ̡̨S̀i̛g͠ni̴fi̴can͝t ̴S̢ocia͢l̕ Bo͟nding͟-
Richter is leaving. She decides she will follow, lacking any other figure to accompany at this moment. Takeoff is not graceful- stand up.exe and F̧͠L͢Y̸ ̡OF̶F̢̕͡ kick in simultaneously and she mostly just.... falls forward, until the wings start flapping to get her airborne.
[ The distance is good, it means he's no longer compelled to reply to her. There's too much intricacy about his own issues that he doesn't want to untangle without something handy to maim nearby.
He continues walking, disregards the ominous flapping behind him. Someone as dignified as him should never turn back unless necessary - it shows his unflinching manner.
It's not too far to their target, luckily. A hulking feline beast soon appears out of the ruined landscape, packing around a mound of dirt. Richter stops walking, narrows his eyes. ]
Correction, Richter is only in the 50th percentile of worst. Nothing to write home about. And joke's on him, she's not above repeating herself until she gets an acknowledgement. Now that he's stopped she will eventually get close enough to be heard.]
Nonhumans can have emails. For example, companies, an̛d̛͜͟ á̸n̶d̵̀̕roi̴dş.̛͏͝ ͝kkk͘͜͜sk̶̛̕s̀h͏̧͡h́͜͡c̵̵c̶̛̀ķ̧k̴a͟w̷̕
[Her too-many pairs of wings bristle. She takes an abrupt right and swoops out of line-of-sight of the other monster, a move driven by instinct- except her "in͏s͞tìnct́s" are poor even at the best of times, and she barely avoids crashing into the roof of a busstop (PATHFINDING PROTOCOLS UNABLE TO CALIBRATE PLEASE RETRY). Give her a moment- she needs to figure out where she is.]
Will be unavailable for a moment, Richter.
[Common courtesy is due even to the middlingly unpleasant work partner. He might not even hear, but the point is in the protocol.]
[ If only Richter cared about keeping his reputation positive... alas, she will have to deal with looking at his back for now. As intent as he is about pretending he doesn't care, he still cares about the safety of their mission. Hearing that unceremonious flapping tells him that there's a complication in her approach - he has to compensate for that, then. ]
Oh, just don't hit your head on a rock, or something.
[ He raises his voice, and the tiger demon whips around at the noise. Its unnatural appearance doesn't faze him in the slightest; he conjures a glassy blade and takes an offensive stance. ]
[She’ll be fine, probably. She doesn't care about his reputation either, so as long as the outside doesn't kill her she's content watching Richter duke it out with the monster.]
[ Blah blah blah, screeching in the background... none of his business, hmm. His focus is on the battle before them and how it would unfold. Slaying demons isn't hard for him - it's what he's made for, after all; dark blades glinting in the scorched afternoon light. He strikes without mercy, pleased when blade pierces hide and leaves a bloody trail. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
for gottwaffe
CAW CAW MOTHERFCKERA grey shape wings its way over the debris on the street; haphazardly, low to the ground so that its feet skim against upturned concrete. Freedom fits poorly on her if one were to be honest. The streets are too big and there is no ceiling, she had been used to ceilings in the past, she still likes ceilings now. Decided she does 606780 seconds ago. But then again no one is asking for honesty at the moment.
#͏3̵4̷6 029 2̨56̴ 0͠61-҉B hits the ground next to a crack in the road. She had been doing something but the smell of electricity in the soil makes her new instincts restless. She scratches with her wings and then her upper appendages ("hands") and pulls out a buried electricity cable, snapping a section free after some finagling, then sticks the live end into her face.
G̴͘o̸̷̢od̛ f͘͏ood̷̀.̢͠ oh yes she was in the middle of something.]
Richter? Calling Richter?
no subject
In lieu of a reply, a red sword falls smoothly to the ground and sinks itself into the ash-baked soil. Its owner lands on the solid-glass hilt a moment latter, standing on one foot like a very pretentious flamingo. Pink, pink, and pink; from his hair to his eyes and the vague patches of colour on a blood- and dirt-matted uniform. ]
Coming, coming, [ a lazy drawl as he hops off the sword and lets it shatter behind him. He dusts himself, though it's only for show. There's no dust on that cloth. ] What is it, then? You found the prey?
no subject
What is it again-] ńn̢͞҉n̵̢̧̨͝n̡̧͟͡͡n̸͞
[Server error, status code: 500 error code: ?????????
REBOOTING_
She twitches, feathers rustling, then flings the electricity cable away. Getting on in years, her mind's really not what it used to be.]
Hello Mr. Ritcher! It's nice to see you again. [give her some time she is working her way up to it.] I have checked for the signs you requested. There are two positive results in a 1-km radius.
It would be much easier if you had an email account, so I could send you the data directly.
[not even demonic infection will stop her from complaining about people's boomer habits. get on with the times please.]
no subject
The bootup sequence still seems weird to him, though. ]
E-mail? [ He says it in a distinctively separated manner. ] You know things like me don't get that.
[ He considers himself too unique to bother asking their masters for one. A finger twirls around a lock of pink. ]
Where's the nearest one, then?
no subject
37°19'41.4"N 118°54'57.6"W, [she chirps immediately, then pauses. She is aware that Richter wants it in another format, in directions. Annoying. Extraneous. But humans (and richter) insist on translation to directions, so she puts her head down and works at it.
Things take longer to process these days.]
A hundred and fifty three meters in that direction, [she points, through a building.] I have a question, why can't you get email? Everyone can get email.
no subject
Cuz I'm not a human. Jeez, are you that forgetful?
[ No, she's just a roomba without contextual awareness. Still, he sets off at a brisk trot, wiping away his frustration with the thought of hunting. Much more pleasant. ]
no subject
See, if he had an email she could just email him!! Or any kind of inbox, actually. Emails are just professional standard, her previous humans didn't want to give her their mobile device contacts at all, and she thinks she does not like Richter enough to give hers, assuming that this is a g͏est͝u͠re̡̕ ̛of ̡̨S̀i̛g͠ni̴fi̴can͝t ̴S̢ocia͢l̕ Bo͟nding͟-
Richter is leaving. She decides she will follow, lacking any other figure to accompany at this moment. Takeoff is not graceful- stand up.exe and F̧͠L͢Y̸ ̡OF̶F̢̕͡ kick in simultaneously and she mostly just.... falls forward, until the wings start flapping to get her airborne.
Airborne. Flying is fa͞s͜t.]
c̢̕͘a̡̨͢͢ẁ̷̀͡ ̢̀͡c҉͏̨̢͜ą̡̛͜w̷̡͢ ̸͘͡͡c̸͝͞a̵̷̢w̢̕
no subject
He continues walking, disregards the ominous flapping behind him. Someone as dignified as him should never turn back unless necessary - it shows his unflinching manner.
It's not too far to their target, luckily. A hulking feline beast soon appears out of the ruined landscape, packing around a mound of dirt. Richter stops walking, narrows his eyes. ]
no subject
Correction, Richter is only in the 50th percentile of worst. Nothing to write home about. And joke's on him, she's not above repeating herself until she gets an acknowledgement. Now that he's stopped she will eventually get close enough to be heard.]
Nonhumans can have emails. For example, companies, an̛d̛͜͟ á̸n̶d̵̀̕roi̴dş.̛͏͝ ͝kkk͘͜͜sk̶̛̕s̀h͏̧͡h́͜͡c̵̵c̶̛̀ķ̧k̴a͟w̷̕
[Her too-many pairs of wings bristle. She takes an abrupt right and swoops out of line-of-sight of the other monster, a move driven by instinct- except her "in͏s͞tìnct́s" are poor even at the best of times, and she barely avoids crashing into the roof of a busstop (PATHFINDING PROTOCOLS UNABLE TO CALIBRATE PLEASE RETRY). Give her a moment- she needs to figure out where she is.]
Will be unavailable for a moment, Richter.
[Common courtesy is due even to the middlingly unpleasant work partner. He might not even hear, but the point is in the protocol.]
no subject
Oh, just don't hit your head on a rock, or something.
[ He raises his voice, and the tiger demon whips around at the noise. Its unnatural appearance doesn't faze him in the slightest; he conjures a glassy blade and takes an offensive stance. ]
no subject
▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇
[Let’s try that again-]
▇▇▇▇▇ be fine.
no subject
no subject