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 Jail Buddies?, Ragna and Hazama
Maria Castor
 Posted: Jun 24 2017, 04:09 PM
Quote
Chaotic_Good
29 posts
23 years old
Human
Vigilante/Demon Hunter
5'9 | 145 lbs
OC
Maria Castor
SincerityNature [they/them] is Offline


N/A


Tap. Tap. Tap.

Fingers drum against the bench, sounding out a restless beat as green eyes stare intently into the space outside of the small cell they've been placed in. There's no concern on their face, merely what might be described as vague annoyance, like being in jail is only a small setback for them. There's also no concern on their face for the injuries they seem to have acquired beforehand, either, despite the fact that some of them are still bleeding. They absently wipe away blood that's still trickling from their mouth with the heel of their hand, momentarily putting a pause in the restless beat they'd been tapping out, before getting up from the bench, and making their way to the door of the cell, leaning against the wall beside it, crossing their arms.

Their imprisonment is completely unjustified, they think; they'd just been doing their job when the local law enforcement had finally caught up with them. They'd caught traces of a demon while walking around the city, trying to get their bearings in this new world they'd been dumped in, and, naturally, they'd decided to hunt it down. It's what they did, and Maria thinks that some damaged property could just be considered as just collateral damage in comparison to the people that the demon could've killed had Maria not killed it first. The fight had been over in moments, with the demon dead on the ground when the police showed up.

It's certainly been a... surreal couple of days, if Maria wants to put it lightly. Never before in their life have they felt so out of their element, so out of place. They've always had some kind of foothold in the world, even if they didn't realize it at the time, but now-- they've been put somewhere where they have nothing, except their skill and their name. And even their name means little, here. Their team isn't here, the Order isn't here, Hell, even the demons from their world aren't here, other than the one they encountered today. Maria wonders if this means that the gods that watch them with a keen eye aren't here, either; if any prayer or word directed towards the heavens will just dissipate in the air without anyone ever hearing. Maria doesn't think that they'll be quite so lucky.

They have to admit, as well, the absence of their team has thrown them for a loop in this world. They've never been quite so alone like this except for once in their entire life; they've always had someone else there with them, someone else to depend on. Though isolation isn't a feeling that's strange to them, there's another one that's buried itself in their chest-- something like grief, something like melancholy. They don't know when they're leaving this place, or, really, if they ever will; they wonder if their expiration date still exists here. There's so many uncertainties here, so many unanswered questions that Maria has never experienced or had to ask before, and they decide that it's kind of bullshit.

They don't know whether it's the gods that have placed them here, or if this is just some kind of cosmic joke that's being played on them, but Maria feels a little pissed off about it.

But back to their unjustified imprisonment. Apparently, the local law enforcement hadn't quite liked Maria's method of demon hunting, and had charged them with destruction of property. Maria thought this to be particularly ungrateful-- after all, they hadn't seen the policemen anywhere when the demon had appeared-- and as such, may have also resisted arrest, adding onto their seemingly growing list of offenses.

Being imprisoned doesn't bother Maria quite so much, they think; they can take it in stride. But it makes them feel unsettled -- maybe even anxious that their weapons and other items have been taken from them. The usual weight of their blessed silver guns hidden beneath their coat is missing, making Maria feel like a part of them is gone. They shift in their place restlessly; the only sign of their unease. They uncross their arms, and their fingers resume their anxious rhythm, this time on their leg, the sound more muffled than when they'd done it on the bench.

The sound and feeling soothes Maria a little bit, and they close their eyes and lean their head back against the wall as they wait for something.

Ragna the Bloodedge|| NOTES: friends that sin together win together
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Ragna the Bloodedge
 Posted: Jul 4 2017, 05:35 PM
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Chaotic_Good
18 posts
24 years old
artificial human
mercenary
6'0 | 172 lb
blazblue
Ragna the Bloodedge
odoroshi [she/her] is Offline




R
agna wakes to a concrete floor and a dull, biting ache throughout his entire body.

For a few moments, he’s not quite sure why he is where he is—or even where he is, for that matter; all he registers is one: pain, and two: concrete. He’s lying face-down, sprawled ungracefully out on the ground, but his first move to get to his feet sends a sharp pain of protest through him. So—he lies there, staring at said concrete, letting his consciousness filter in bit by bit and fill in the gaps in his memory.

What he ends up remembering first is why he’s here. He’d been minding his own business for the most part today, puttering around Upper Kadath after taking care of some larger pests that had been loitering around and making the good folk of this nice part of town nervous—usual stuff. Sword at his back, haphazardly wiped down after tasting its daily dose of monster’s blood, he supposes that, in hindsight, he hadn’t been looking quite as usual as he’d been feeling—at least, not to the average people living around these parts. See, where he’s from, Ragna seems to be on the average side of things; nobody tended to spare a second glance at a man with a sword as tall as he is given the fact that he most certainly isn’t the only one.

Here on Kadath, however...things are a bit different. Strolling through town with a bloodstained weapon as wide as a bench and as tall as its wielder through areas in full view of common folk and children and whatnot is, apparently, not quite “legal”. Ragna is usually not a man to pay attention to the legality of things, given, but until this point, he’d been able to maintain something of a low profile. Not having a bounty on his head big enough to buy a small country had come with that added perk, at least.

The unfortunately familiar sight of a line of armed policemen forming around him had quickly taught him that it had been a mistake to not consider the legality of things. It’s not like he had any intention of actually going with them, granted, but the whole “criminal” schtick is still a massive pain in the neck. He’d moved one hand toward the handle of his blade, counting on at least a heartbeat’s hesitation from the officers before they started firing to brute-force his way out. Bullets he can survive—he’s taken many a bullet and still come out swinging—but what he hadn’t been counting on was the jumpy, fresh-out-of-the-academy kid armed not with a gun, but with a taser strong enough to suddenly make Ragna’s knees lock and send him pitching forward onto the ground. More than one other officer had likely followed suit, as that’s just about where his memory cuts off, skipping ahead to his faceful of concrete.

That, he supposes, would be how he got here, then.

A low groan escapes Ragna as he slowly makes his way to his feet, shaking out each one of his limbs in tandem to return feeling to them. Mismatched eyes sweep over his surroundings and confirm that he is, in fact, in some sort of holding cell. It doesn’t appear, upon a first glance, to be any sort of special cell, though—just the same concrete and iron intended to keep average people inside. Meaning: despite the fact that this situation is an overall pain in Ragna’s ass, he’s more than likely capable of getting out of here. He’ll have to track down his sword before he makes a break for it, but he at least won’t need it to get out of this cell.

Writhing dark energy envelops his left arm and, after a moment, solidifies into a massive, beastly claw. It’s better to get this done now, he supposes—before any guards with any sort of ability that could hold Ragna down show up. He’s cocking his arm back when he suddenly realizes he isn’t alone; a flash of blonde catches his peripheral vision from a cell opposite of him. He squints, arm hovering in its position before he slowly brings it back to his side. He doesn’t seem to recognize this particular blonde despite the fact that he knows quite a few—most of whom are related to him in one way or another—but he figures that they are no less thrilled than he is to be stuck in their particular predicament.

“...Yo,” He decides after brief deliberation to greet the other inmate, raising his clawed arm in a awkward wave. “You the only other one here?” He assumes that, given the lack of response from any others, it’s a safe assumption. “And d’ya...know where exactly ‘here’ is? Like, where in Kadath?”


NOTES: this is it this is peak friendship
tag:Maria Castor
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Maria Castor
 Posted: Jul 14 2017, 09:50 PM
Quote
Chaotic_Good
29 posts
23 years old
Human
Vigilante/Demon Hunter
5'9 | 145 lbs
OC
Maria Castor
SincerityNature [they/them] is Offline


N/A


They hear the groan, first; eyes opening and turning towards the cell across from them as they watch the man that's been passed out on the ground come back into the waking world. They're not quite sure how he was knocked out (though they can probably make a few guesses) but they feel some sense of sympathy for him, seeing as whatever knocked him out must hurt like a bitch. They feel some sort of sympathy, as well, that this poor shmuck is stuck in the same situation as them-- though perhaps not because of accidental property damage-- and they watch without really saying anything as he gets to his feet.

The dark energy that suddenly envelops his arm, however, does make Maria blink a bit, though they can't say that they could truly summon any real surprise or alarm. They suppose it's nothing stranger than they've seen these past nine years of being an exorcist (you see some weird shit in the field, that, after a while, things cease to surprise you) though they didn't exactly expect to see it here on Kadath. It suddenly strikes Maria that he probably intends to break out-- there's really no other explanation for it-- and they shift their position to see if he actually succeeds (and, if he does, perhaps get him to do the same for them; they don't really have an interest in staying in here over something that's really not their fault to begin with).

He notices them, and they’re suddenly faced with having to interact with him. Not that they don’t want to, it’s just-- this isn’t exactly the best circumstances that they’ve met someone else under. Though, they figure; they’ve never really cared about shit like first impressions or what the fuck ever. So, they decide to return the friendly greeting. "What's up," they say, casually raising their hand back as he notices and acknowledges them. They keep their tone light and friendly, and they slowly straighten-- like they have all the time in the goddamn world-- leaning against the bars of their cell as they glance down the hall to where the other (empty) cells are. "Yeah, I think so. I haven't heard anyone else in this place, anyways." They shrug. "But, uh, I think we're in Upper Kadath?" They know that much, at least; made sure to acquaint themselves with the city and how it's divided so they didn't run the risk of getting lost here. "And then wherever the hell the holding cells are in the area. I kind of wasn't paying attention."

The strength of the holding cells here are probably shit, too, they think; probably made for the average human being, and not necessarily anything stronger-- or anything that can deal in magic. ....or anything that can, apparently, utilize dark energy to form a giant claw. "You're planning on breaking out of here, right?" It's really not a hard decision for them to decide to also leave if he gives them the option (or even if he doesn't; Maria's not too keen on staying, so they'll find a way if he doesn't give it to them; likely a hymn or something to open the lock). It's a new experience, being in jail, sure; one they've really never had to worry about back on their world because of political immunity and shit. (Really, they thought that if they ever got arrested it would be because of something more interesting than property damage, but Maria figures that they can move past that.) However, as interesting as being arrested was, Maria's ready to get out of here, get their stuff, and get back on the streets.

"You mind doing the same for me? They kind of arrested me for a bullshit reason, and I'm really not interested in waiting around for them to let me go or whatever happens to people who get arrested."

Ragna the Bloodedge || NOTES: time to commit more property damage
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Ragna the Bloodedge
 Posted: Aug 22 2017, 04:54 PM
Quote
Chaotic_Good
18 posts
24 years old
artificial human
mercenary
6'0 | 172 lb
blazblue
Ragna the Bloodedge
odoroshi [she/her] is Offline




T
he casual tone of his fellow jailbird’s voice is almost enough to elicit a short laugh from Ragna’s end, despite his own somewhat casual (albeit slightly awkward) attitude of his own. It’s reassuring, he supposes, that the other person stuck in this same situation isn’t someone who’s been particularly taken off-guard by any of this—the arrest, the appearance of Ragna’s ability and what have you; it saves him the trouble of having to calm them down, or simply to make sure they shut up and let him do his thing.

This person—a fancily dressed, clergy-looking individual with a butch haircut and a look in their eyes like they haven’t slept in a few days (and aren’t all that concerned with the fact)—seems to take it all in stride, returning Ragna’s greeting with minimal concern, as well as answering his questions without admonishing him for his very clear intentions. It’s reassuring in that Ragna, if the situations had been reversed, would very likely not be quite so casual about it all. His standard reaction would probably be something in between “Why me?” and “Not this shit again”—though probably due to his tendency to attract unnecessary trouble and less due to the fact that he’s inherently afraid of whatever freaky shit may show up.

“Upper Kadath, huh?” He responds, scratching at his chin with his off hand. “Damn. Long walk to get back home.” That’ll be a problem, especially if he’s running from the cops. He’s got quite a bit of stamina, sure, but that’s nonetheless a bit of a long run. It’s a long run he could likely avoid by playing nice with the law—probably—though he’s never really been one to bother with stuff like that. He’s got more important things to do...or something like that. “Probably somewhere near all the government shit, if I had to take a wild guess. Might be a little tricky gettin’ outta here.” He trails off, mumbling that last bit to himself.

Maybe he should think through a more comprehensive plan of action, rather than clawing his way out and sprinting down the streets in hopes the police can’t catch up. He knows very well what exactly will rack up a guy’s bounty and land him on the shit-list of every major law-enforcement agency in the city—been there, done that, probably shouldn’t do it again.

He should think this through—but he isn’t going to. Far be it from Ragna the Bloodedge to ever learn his lesson or anything like that.

“Yeah, I am.” He responds shortly to Maria, giving a little shrug. “Gimme a sec.”

There’s a piercing screech of metal being torn ungracefully apart; Ragna cocks his arm back again and claws wildly at the bars before him, slicing a jagged hole just large enough for him to squeeze through. He ducks through, stepping into the hall and giving a cursory glance down each end of the hall of cells. The guards are nowhere in sight for the time being—evidently far enough away as to not hear the scream of shredding metal—and his suspicion that himself and Maria are the only ones currently held here is affirmed by the lack of commotion from any of the other cells. He shrugs; far be it from him to question the lack of guards—he’ll take what he can get.

“Stand back a sec, will ya?” In a matter of a few moments, he gives Maria’s cell bars the same treatment, gouging a hole just large enough for them to step through and extending a hand in to help them climb out.

“Oookay, next order of business: I gotta find my weapon—and yours, I’m assumin’” Ragna plants his hands on his hips, squinting down the long hall. “Not sure where they’d be, though. Can’t be too far, I don’t think?” He pulls his lips together into a thin line. “Let’s just explore down these halls and hope we find somethin’ without stirrin’ up too much shit with the guards.”

“Oh! Uh, “ He cuts himself off and turns to his accomplice, “name’s Ragna, by the way. Might as well tell ya if we’re doin’ this shit together. You got one, yerself?”


NOTES: he's not a smart boy
tag:Maria Castor
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Maria Castor
 Posted: Aug 23 2017, 01:25 PM
Quote
Chaotic_Good
29 posts
23 years old
Human
Vigilante/Demon Hunter
5'9 | 145 lbs
OC
Maria Castor
SincerityNature [they/them] is Offline


N/A


Maria can't help but reflect upon the fortunate nature of this meeting; that's how it generally seems to go for them, though, if they had to be fair. It's an internal joke to them that they have the best and worst luck-- in this situation, their worst luck being in jail in the first place, but the good luck kicking in in terms of meeting this man. It's a double edged sword, really, and one they tend to take advantage of as much as possible, even if they shouldn't. But, y'know, Maria doesn't quite concern themselves with things like that, nowadays; there's little point to, to them.

It probably isn't a good idea to break out of jail. Maria recognizes this. They recognize the repercussions of it; the fact that this will, undoubtedly, mark up their record even more, put a bounty on their head, amongst other inevitable, unpleasant things. The reality of it, however, is that Maria simply doesn't care. That kind of apathy towards the law and other such things tends to happen when you've been living with the reality of death for three years already; no real point in following it or even caring about it if you're going to die soon, anyways, and definitely not on some shit excuse for a world like Kadath. The government here is clearly incompetent-- though, if it means an easy jailbreak, Maria can't say they're complaining.

This incompetence is only even more glaring when the man claws apart his jail cell door in the loudest way; the screaming protest of metal bending beneath his claw making Maria cast a glance down the hallway, and they're both pleased-- and amused-- that no guards comes running. God, Kadath really does have shitty security, doesn't it? They think about how such a feat would've been much harder on their world-- cells designed to hold magic users, made with much stronger material. Their eyes then redirect to the man, and as he fully steps out of his cell, they actually bother to give him a once over. Spiky white hair, red and black clothes, unnecessary amount of buckles. They combine this with the dark energy power, or whatever, and figure that this guy must be some stereotypical edgy fucker, or someone hoping to be one. But, he's helping them get out, and far be it from them to criticize a grown ass man on his choice of clothing during a jailbreak. Afterwards, maybe.

They obligingly stand back as their own cell door is promptly mangled, and they duck under it with ease, accepting the hand that's offered them and ensuring that their coat isn't caught on the bars-- or, rather, what remains of them from where Maria stepped out. They brush themselves off, before putting their hands in their coat pockets, and giving the other end of the hallway a thoughtful look. "Right. I'd assume they're in the same place." The guns are essentially useless to anyone other than them, but it still makes them uneasy to think that someone might be touching them other than Maria. They don't like other people touching their shit, especially not their weapons.

"Sounds like a plan. Though, I think I got any locked doors we come across from here on out, alright?" They grin; glance back at the mangled cell doors before turning their attention back to the other end of the hall. "Especially if we don't wanna stir up any guards." They figure a hymn will be a much more discreet way to open doors, rather than a giant claw made of dark energy. They, for now, however, omit the fact that they could've very much unlocked the cell doors for the two of them-- in a much more easier manner, as well, likely-- instead glancing back at the man as he introduces himself.

"My name's Maria. Maria Castor. Nice to meet you, Ragna." They give him another grin and a two fingered salute, before running a hand through their hair, momentarily getting it out of their face. "Right! So, let's find our shit and get the hell out of here!"

Ragna the Bloodedge || NOTES: does ragna buy his clothes at hot topic
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Ragna the Bloodedge
 Posted: Oct 3 2017, 09:45 PM
Quote
Chaotic_Good
18 posts
24 years old
artificial human
mercenary
6'0 | 172 lb
blazblue
Ragna the Bloodedge
odoroshi [she/her] is Offline




"A
lright—Maria, then.” Ragna gives a nod of affirmation. It’s a standard enough name, strangely; no “the Bloodedge” or “the Phantom” or anything of that sort tacked onto the end to helpfully spell out for him why exactly this person seems so casual about the affair at hand. He can tell that this “Maria” certainly isn’t as average as their name may suggest, given the look of apparent apathy they give him as he ceremoniously rips their cell bars apart, but that’s just about all he can glean from a cursory once-over. Far be it from him to press the matter when he’s got more important things to do. “Good to meet ya and all that shit. Let’s get goin’.” is all he says.

Actually, he is going to ask at least one question to this stranger before they keep going; he makes the decision when what they had casually said earlier finally clicks. “Wait, hold on,” He gives them a sidelong glance, screwing his lips up briefly, “you’re tellin’ me that you could have unlocked your cell that whole time? Like, before I had to cut a giant hole in the door?” Part of him feels like he ought to be angry, but he can’t help but let a short laugh escape him. Alright, so maybe that much is his fault for jumping the gun on brute-forcing his way out of the situation, but he really isn’t the type of guy to stop and think before he just does. “Well, shit, okay, you should probably lead with that next time. What with the cells lookin’ like that, they’re gonna assume I fuckin’ kidnapped you or somethin’, dude.” It’s not the end of the world, he supposes; he’s already gonna be in deep enough legal trouble for what’s already happened, but he supposes he’ll take Maria’s advice for any upcoming locks that may need dealing with.

Leaving things there, Ragna turns an about-face on his heel and starts walking down the length of the hallway. He’s not sure where exactly he ought to be going, so for the moment he’s simply going—keeping himself on the move on the off chance that he stumbles upon what he’s looking for. He moves with a purpose, though; he doesn’t need to know where he’s going to be confident in his movement, and he definitely doesn’t need to make it obvious to Maria that he’s not sure if this is even the right direction.

“Can’t imagine it’d be far…” He mumbles aloud to nobody in particular, mismatched eyes sweeping back and forth as they traverse the hallway. “If I had to guess, they’re probably keepin’ our stuff somewhere like…” He locks onto an open doorway off to one side of them. There’s a faint, fluorescent glow and the muffled sound of ambient chatter from inside; Ragna guesses that means it’s occupied with the guards that hadn’t been keeping an eye on their cells. “Uh...there, sure. Probably in there.” He holds a hand out to stop Maria. “I got this one. Keep quiet.”

He takes a moment to pause and channel a quick spell, letting his presence fade from view as he rounds the corner. There are indeed a couple of guards inside—chattering idly to one another, seemingly unaware of the jailbreak at hand. That’s reassuring, he supposes; whoever was meant to be keeping an eye on himself and his newfound accomplice hasn’t yet noticed the shredded cell bars and informed the rest of the staff. Leaned haphazardly in one corner is his sword—he breathes a sigh of relief at that—next to a pair of guns that he assumes are Maria’s.

So, Ragna proceeds with caution, and a certain degree of grace by, naturally, coming up behind one of the two guards and forcefully socking him in the back of his skull. He drops like a stone, and by the time the second guard notices the commotion, he, too, is laid out flat on his stomach.

“Lucky break,” He comments aloud with a wry smile as he emerges back into the hallway where Maria stands, tossing their guns back to them, “let’s find an exit and get the hell outta—”

The wail of an alarm abruptly cuts him off. “So much for ‘luck’, huh?” A cynical voice in his head mutters as it registers the sound of footsteps pounding from some way down the hall. He looks toward Maria and gives a helpless shrug. “Let’s get the hell outta here fast, then.” He takes off at a brisk pace, gesturing with his head for them to follow.


NOTES: after this long wait i bring to u: a stupid ragna. feel free to NPC any guards or anything to ~spice it up~ if u so desire
tag:Maria Castor
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