the return of the revenge of just rp it.

[musedactyl]

how to play.

1. Drop a comment with one or more of your muses. It can be empty if you want me to make a scenario, or you can toss one at me. Prompts are boss. (a word, song, lyric, picture, phrase, a meme prompt, anything). Specify if there's something you do or don't want, otherwise I could throw anything at you: AUs, shippiness, awfulness. You've been warned, son.
1b. If you want to continue a verse we started in another thread somewhere, specify it in the comment or subject line. I'd be down for revisiting any of those.

2. In the subject line, you can specify any of my muses you might want to play with (including OCs, who have their own list), or you can ask me to pick someone. No muses are off-limits except for those that have no icon uploaded on the list. Otherwise, I'll pick or randomize someone.
2b. Muses I would really love to play right now, in case you are having a hard time choosing: Hawke, Hannibal Lecter, Selina Kyle, Fox Mulder, Cigarette Smoking Man, Serafina, Pepper Potts, Lois Lane, Jacen Solo.

3. just rp with me. if something jives really well, maybe we can continue it in another one of these later, sort of like a super casual verse. if it doesn't, it doesn't.

Comments

WE TRIED .JPEG

[regenerate]

[ Her eyebrows arch, torn somewhere between disbelief and amusement as she cracks the obvious joke, ] I didn't know you felt so strongly about Seattle.

[ Meanwhile, in her head she's like jfc what a drama queen. Honestly, though. Claire is the only one allowed to act like a teenage girl. Everyone else is just being a baby. She pulls a fry off her tray, wary in how she waits for him to get around whatever he asked her over for. Whiplash is starting to hurt her neck—he's up, he's down, he's open, he's closed. ]

gold star

[oldfashioned]

I wasn't talking about Seattle. [ WOW HE IS NOT ACTING LIKE A TEENAGE GIRL CLAIRE. he calms himself down from his internal indignation by reminding himself that she has no idea what he's dealing with. which is his fault, certainly, but he's hardly about to change that. ] I know you don't have idea what I-- [ he cuts off, the girls gossiping across the room fully audible to him, attracting his attention, as he looks over her shoulder. he looks wickedly amused as he says: ] I think your friends are angry at me for stealing you.

misshapen gold star

[regenerate]

[ Claire straightens her back, glancing over her shoulder towards the table. A part of her is actually smug, in a way, and he'd be able to easily pick that off the surface of her mind. She gets some sense of prideful satisfaction from having an indubitably enviable social position, but there's also concern simmering just beneath it. Concern that she'll be exposed if she draws attention to herself.

After a moment, she rolls her eyes, looking back at her food. ] Are you kidding? They love you for it. [ After she picks at her food some, she goes on to explain. ] This is the most exciting thing that's happened to them all week. [ And it's not even happening to them.

It's not even coming from a particular place of narcissism, really. Claire's arrival had been the most exciting thing to happen at Forks High School for most of them in a while, and it's probably the only reason they're paying much attention even now. She's beginning to doubt her father's plan to skip off to some rural nowhere town: wouldn't it be better to be in a city like Seattle, where they could go entirely under the radar without issue? ]

hangs it on the wall

[oldfashioned]

[ exposed. there's that interesting line of thought again, the one that he hones in on, his expression sharpening as he scrutinizes her, while she picks away, willing her to keep following that line of thought through to conclusion. ] And what about you?

[regenerate]

I try to stay away from interesting.

[ Except him. She doesn't want to stay away from him. She wants to know more about him, find out what he knows about why they're like this. Even if she wants to stay under the radar, she doesn't see a reason she has to stay under the radar alone. ]

You still haven't said why you called me over.

[oldfashioned]

I thought I made that clear when we spoke last. [ he struggles to keep it casual, but her desire to know about him, to know him sends a thrill through him that sabotages the attempt instantly.

he feels it again, that desire to be honest with her, to see if he can get her to do the same in kind. ] I'm tired of trying to stay away from you. I've resigned myself to doing what I want to do, instead of what I should. Regardless of what happens as a result. [ it's painfully honest, dangerously so, but he feels the need to paint it clearly for her: that this decision on his part is reckless, selfish, that consequences are inevitable, and he's finally dismissed them. ]

[regenerate]

[ Great. So he finally decided he wants to hang out with her, and that means he gets to summon her like Lassie. Claire's teeth grind for a moment, accepting that she didn't have to hurry over, and that's as much her fault as his for expecting she'd come when called. Next time, maybe she won't. (Except it's a real battle between her stubbornness and her interest in him. She can't guarantee she'll stick to that, even if she wants to.)

For now, interest definitely wins out. She leans forward. ] Why? Why were you trying to avoid me in the first place? What result are you so afraid of? It's not like I'm going to expose you. We can help each other stay hidden.

[oldfashioned]

[ it's when she leans forward that he cracks just a few inches further, letting his eyes settle on her face, search it with all too much freedom. ] What are you hiding from, Claire?

[regenerate]

[ Genuine confusion colored her expression, and Claire shook her head. ]

You mean you don't know?

[ But he had to, didn't he? He was hiding too. ]

[oldfashioned]

You haven't exactly been entirely forthcoming, either. [ even as he says it, he starts second-guessing himself. her reaction isn't what he expected, but again, she seems to be operating under the assumption that she really understands exactly who and what he is ]

[regenerate]

Yeah, but with how hard you were trying to keep it a secret, I just thought— [ She shook her head. It didn't matter anymore. Her father's smiling face came to the forefront of her mind. ] There's a company, one that hunts down people like us to … to tag, and experiment on. [ The image of her father is from farther back now. His business suit, briefcase, as he leaves for work. ] And if anyone finds out about them, or learns anything, they make people forget.

[oldfashioned]

People like us. [ he says the words slowly, but there's a sense of dread encroaching upon him as she explains, which he tries desperately to keep from showing on his features. and does a rather poor job of accomplishing. he wishes she would mentally elaborate on what she means by 'making people forget', but it sounds like the sort of powers that the volturi enjoy hoarding, and the thought hardly brings any comfort with it. ] What, exactly, is it that you think I am?

[regenerate]

I don't think there's a word for it.

[ She lowered her voice further, shaking her head and glancing around shiftily. However, her mind fills in the gaps. Recalls Matt Parkman's telepathy, in the holding cell. Her mother's pyrokinesis. Her own regeneration. Peter burning up over New York. ]

Special. That's what the Company calls it. You have powers, like mine but different.

[oldfashioned]

Claire, while I believe that you are special, I doubt very much that you are as like me as you seem to wish to believe. [ she's not one of them, not a vampire, and that's evident in every flush of heat that her heartbeat brings to her cheeks. but his eyes search her face with wild curiosity as he eats up everything that she's thinking about. such extraordinary abilities...

but what does that entail? regeneration. to what extent? can she feel pain? die? he wants to ask, wants to bombard her with a million questions, but they're only going to open him up for the same treatment.

if she had these powers that she so firmly believed she did, (and what was the alternative? that she was insane? he refused to entertain it, although her persistence in the face of his repeated statements about being dangerous might support that conclusion), then what she was was rather the opposite of what he was.

he was a monster. a horror story. she was a ... a hero.

or heroine, as it were. you see what i did thar. ] These... powers of yours. What is it you would use them for?

[regenerate]

[ Put on the spot by his rejection of her camaraderie and his expectation that she'd have some answer for what to do with what the eclipse did to them, Claire balked a little. Straightening her back, she searched his eyes, as if trying to find what he believed the right answer before she realized she needed to look inside for hers. ] I don't know …

[ What had she done, when she found out? Tested her limits, yeah, but then, in Odessa … She remembered the firefighters. The train. The heroism that Jackie got lauded for. ]

Helping people. [ That's what Peter would have said, if he were here. That's what he'd tried until his very last to do for all of them. Save the cheerleader, save the world. Well she was saved, and the world was saved, but Peter was gone. Maybe it was naive to believe anything could be done with a power like hers. She wasn't Peter. But she had to try, didn't she? ]

[oldfashioned]

Then that's where we're different. [ he thinks back on his own actions in the past, on when he'd tried to prey on those he'd judged as deserving of it. had that been helping people? did it change what he was?

he couldn't believe that it did. he can see the difference in her memories, the way her instincts turn her towards bravery and selflessness, while all of his urge him to give into this monster that he's worked so long to tame. ]

Have you considered that maybe I'm not so heroic? [ his words twist bitterly ] That maybe I'm the bad guy?

[regenerate]

[ She remembered the pool of Jackie's blood on the locker room floor. Racing away from Sylar, into Peter's arms. The crack of bone as she leapt from the stadium. Claire shook her head. ]

I don't believe that. [ Stubbornly, ] The bad guy wouldn't have tried to save me from that van. Edward, what are you so afraid of?

[oldfashioned]

[ it seemed a fair question, particularly in the face of her mental revelation about invulnerability. but it was more than that, as evidenced quite clearly by what he'd just found himself dwelling on - the potential difference between who and what she might be, and who and what he was. ]

That you're setting yourself up for a great deal of disappointment.

[regenerate]

I know what bad guys look like. Trust me. [ She shakes her head, insistent. He's not a monster, like Sylar. Not a liar, like her father. He tried to help her, despite all the risks of using powers like they had. That means something. It has to mean something. So she's got a lot of faith when she says, ] You're not one of them.

[oldfashioned]

And what if you're wrong? You're risking quite a bit to play a hunch.

[regenerate]

Risking what? Getting hurt? I can't. Having to uproot my life and walk away from everything I've ever known? Because I've already done that and survived. Whatever you're afraid will happen to me, you don't have to protect me from it: I've already been through worse.

[oldfashioned]

[ he wants to continue arguing but he has a feeling that she's passed the point of being reasonable about this. without knowing exactly what he's talking about...

that's a dangerous line of thinking, and he presses his lips together for a moment before he says: ] I suppose we'll see.

[regenerate]

I think it's worth the risk.

[ Her tone clearly closes the book on that, decision made. Edward doesn't seem to earn a say of his own in matters, though given Claire's general countenance, that's not precisely a surprise. What he has to offer her is too profound to be trifled with, and she won't let herself lose out on something like that due to fear or uncertainty. Which is either a very Gryffindor thing to do or a very Slytherin thing to do. Take your pick. ]

[oldfashioned]

[ the bell rings, and he slides to his feet in one smooth motion ] We should go to class.

[regenerate]

[ She opened her mouth, a hair's breadth from asking what he was hiding from, the extent of what he could do, and who had convinced him that he was such a monster, but the bell beat her to it. She'd lost him in the sea of routine yet again. Prying him open like this wasn't easy, and even if she got another chance, it likely wouldn't give her the chance to get those questions answered necessarily.

Reluctantly, she got to her feet. ]

And the bad guy definitely wouldn't be so concerned about tardies.

[ But with that last bit of sass added, she pulled her backpack onto her shoulder. ]

Will you just do me one favor? Give me some kind of warning, if you're going to avoid me for days because of this. Getting jerked around like this sucks when you're the only person here that I feel like I can trust.