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HeavyMetalSunshineSister

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About HeavyMetalSunshineSister

Year 08
  • Rank
    Stalwart Defender
  • Birthday 07/12/1993

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  • Gender
    Female
  • Interests
    I'm a bird nerd because photographing marine fish is somehow more expensive than photographing dinosaurs.
    I taught myself to write music a few years back, and then did the same thing with playing the flute, harmonica and didgeridoo.
    Sharks are cool, too, I guess. I'm kinda landlocked right now though, so... you know. Limited relevance.
    When I say "sharks are cool, too, I guess" what I really mean is that I literally have a degree in Marine Biology and am extremely bitter that I can't currently do anything with it.

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  1. Hey, I have no idea if you'll ever see this. Hope you're doing well!

  2. and then Gal Gadot went ahead and starred in the best movie DC's done so far
  3. IC (Isariah, ISD Insight): The Inquisitorius was nothing if not efficient. After the freelancer's ship had managed to limp into orbit, docking arrangements were made with one of the bays aboard the Star Destroyer, and, following a smooth prisoner transfer, Isariah was now fretting over her beautiful, broken ship as a crew of technicians worked at repairing the damage inflicted by her last job. While she tried to stay out of the techs' way, a mix of curiosity and protectiveness might have made her a little bit of a nuisance. Regarding the prisoners she had transported for the Inquisitors... they'd made their bed. The easy way had been offered to them, and they'd refused it with extreme prejudice. While her gut told her that nothing good awaited them, she couldn't bring herself to feel too worried about it. --- IC (Varis, ISD Insight): In her quarters, Inquisitor Kalaf sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, eyebrows raised, and a tattooing needle raised to the skin of one eyelid. Her left hand moved in quick, precise movements, guided with the aid of the Force to fill in a design within the hemisphere she had already drawn upon that eyelid. As she sat, eyes closed, expression placid, she remembered the view of Taris from space; a shimmering jewel, incandescent, iridescent, alive. And she remembered what she had seen on the ground, what Taris was like up-close. Choked by smog, desiccated, a broken world limping along to no end. Neither vision was really false, but the two could not coexist. Taris the Jewel concealed and denied; Taris the Corpse shattered and stained. Incompatible truths. Past and present, intermingled, at war with themselves and each other, and no clear vision for the future. A beautiful atmosphere did not give the people of Taris hope; the scars of the past did not give them a plan. And so the Zabrak Inquisitor, the seeker of truth, tattooed what she had seen upon her eyelids. As abstract shapes were impressed upon the right, forming the image of a shattered hemisphere, a single tear escaped her eye, running down her cheek as it mingled with the blood inherent to the process.
  4. IC: "Right, so the thing about shoes, see, they're the hardest, like, the physically hardest thing you wear, right?" Cynegild was sitting on top of his liquor cabinet, sipping from a steel thermos of red tea as a group of mercenaries ate roast chicken to celebrate moving the last of his things into his new apartment. Their leader, Drachentocht, lay on a fluffy rug and stared at the ceiling as Cynegild continued talking. "So they're harder than any of your clothes, but what's always the thing that wears out first? I can make a pair of pants last two years if I'm good to them, I've had this shirt, this one with the ruffles? Ten years I've had this shirt. But shoes? Three months, tops." "Picker." A hint of exaggerated patience there, like someone about to explain basic addition to a toddler. "Aye?" "You run along railings and rooftops when you get bored, occasionally jumping off of both. You brought in the New Year by stabbing fascists in the neck and dancing around explosions, and you do much of this in heeled boots that would make King Louis the Fourteenth jealous, and you're asking me to explain to you why your shoes wear out?" There wasn't much sound in the apartment for a few minutes, beyond the occasional slurp as Cynegild drained his tea, but when he set the thermos down with a clink... "Yes. Yes that is absolutely a thing I demand an explanation for."
  5. IC (Isariah): Given the choice, the smuggler decided she would much prefer to carry the unconscious prisoner than the one who was still twitching, and therefore scooped the prisoner up and over her shoulders in a fireman's carry, continuing on, somewhat slower, towards the door. "I'm guessing one of you two is going to carry the other guy? I hope, anyway, I mean... if it's all the same to you, I'd really rather not carry both."
  6. IC: "Alright, while we're on the subject of food, horror, and terrible things you've done, do you have any schematics for the Baconator? I feel like that's the only way I'm ever going to understand exactly what kind of monster you created." "Or have they locked those in a vault and refused to disclose the location to you?"
  7. OOC: ayyyy new computer IC (Isariah): The smuggler - and now, apparently, Inquisitorius hireling - flashed a cheery hand signal to the boss-lady, laid down as generous a tip as she could for her meal, and folded the last of her crabs in a napkin. Nodding to Sgt. Raltz and the Inquisitor assigned to her, she started for the door. "Right then, it's not too far to the drydock I had to leave Khorshid in, but your friend's cunning entrance just might have stirred up a bit of panic on the street, so... ah, you know what? You're trained for this. Just do what you do and we should get there fine, yeah?"
  8. IC: Fairuza continued to stare at the part for a moment, finger hovering only a few centimeters above it, before straightening and turning, slowly, to look at Ben. Her hand was now about as far from the workbench as it could get without her waving it in the air above her head - which, in this working environment, seemed nearly as likely to get her electrocuted. "You and I," she said slowly, "have very different approaches to workbenches, loose parts, and live currents, and I am not really certain whether to be frightened or impressed."
  9. IC(Varis): As the special boy in shining armor laid down suppressing fire against Liare, Varis turned her pistol on the star of every Inquisitor's headache, laying down a stream of fire directly targeting the aggressor so that he could not devote all of his attention to keeping her colleague pinned down. Her aim was a little less than perfect, as she had one hand still keeping her lightsaber ready to deflect incoming fire, but perfection wasn't necessary to make a nuisance of herself. With some regret, she noted that her own options for cover near the door were somewhat less plentiful than the tables and chairs in the bar proper, but moving away from the door would make it too easy for one or more targets to slip out.
  10. No, you're right. They're mostly going to panic and try to get out of the crossfire.
  11. I love how there are two wildly different bar-fights going on at the same time. On the one hand, we have a handful of Inquisitors and a contingent of elite troopers working to maintain control and apprehend a specific group of suspects. Stun-rounds flying everywhere, lots of smoke, civilians are broadly encouraged to take cover. On the other hand, we appear to have an actual bar-room brawl featuring a large crowd of various aliens just sort of duking it out for no reason.
  12. IC(Varis): As the Zabrak Inquisitor saw a Togruta making a move for the back door, and very few people of any nature making a go for the front, she relaxed her stance slightly, taking one hand off of her lightsaber to quicky draw one of her blasters from her belt. Flicking the fire-control switch to stun, she took aim just ahead of where the Togruta was and fired off several shots, leading the target slightly with each so that she could not simply dodge once and continue to the door. "Sit. Down," she called across the bar. "Your instructions were not unclear on that point."
  13. IC(Isariah): As much fun as taking pot-shots at gutter-rats had sounded initially, the troopers had quite thoroughly discouraged any such heroics, and really seemed to have a decent handle on things. Taking discretion as the better part of valor, she had flipped her table sideways, hidden behind it, and continued eating her soup, peeking around the edge to make sure the grenadier hadn't popped back up. "Y'know," she called out, over the general noise of the bar-fight, "if you're hiring pilots, I could use a steady job. My Khorshid's a bit roughed-up, and I'm not exactly at risk of scraping together enough credits to fix her on Taris, yeah? So... non-disclosure agreements, security clearance, moral ambiguity, whatever sort of red tape you need, I'd be happy to reach an agreement, long as you've got work for me and hangar space for the tub."
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