saveyourbrain | this is a [test] of the emergency broadcast system

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this is a [test] of the emergency broadcast system

TEST DRIVE MEME

> The Park. Man, what a nice day out. Why not enjoy it? I'm sure -- shit, yep, there's some echo monsters.
> The Mall. Exactly what it says on the tin! Dodge the hordes of teenage mallrats or take part, whichever suits your tastes.
> Rainy Day. Agh, it's fucking awful out. And is it raining those vermilion things?? Now you've got an Echo to contend with on top of everything else. Find some shelter, quick!
> PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION, HOW FUN
> The most horribly kitschy Arts and Crafts Fair you can imagine.
> Wild Card! Make up your own.

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Action Option - Rainy Day/Public Transportation

Varric Tethras is not the kind of man who normally needs public transportation. (He's also no longer a dwarf, and is instead a tall, muscular man in his mid-thirties, with shoulder-length blond hair pulled back into a half ponytail.) As the president of a highly successful international transportation company (not to mention a highly successful and mostly illegal underground operation that most people would refer to as "the mob"), he can't even remember the last time he'd ridden a bus.

Until today. Until he'd spent a very large sum of cash on a crossbow for some inexplicable reason; until he'd been chased by some weird creatures that he's currently aren't positive weren't the result of some tea he'd tried at that Renaissance Faire; until he'd tried to shoot them with the crossbow only to have it change under his hand into something the likes of which he's never seen before.

Now it's pouring, and though he'd escaped, he's far from where he'd been. And the bus is right there, while calling a company car would leave him stranded for at least twenty minutes.

So he boards it, strange crossbow slung over his back, and walks to the back to sit down in the first empty seat he finds. Regardless of who it's next to, or what they make think of a man with an odd weapon sitting next to them.

Network Option - Audio

[He'd first absently written down the string of numbers that won't leave his head during his weekly bookkeeping, since their presence in his mind had been throwing him off the rest of his numbers. His plan to get them out of his head and go back to his work had failed, but he'd discovered something far more interesting.

Since then, Varric's been reading. He knows better than to make his presence known somewhere before he has as firm of a grasp on the situation as he can.

Only once he's as fully abreast of what's been happening as he can be without having actually been there at the time does he make a network post.]

I'm a little disappointed. All this time, there was a completely untapped source of information, right under my nose.

Such fascinating things I'm discovering about ThunderCorp, and our esteemed local law enforcement.

If you ask Riku, it's entirely a fluke that he's even on this bus. Not because he eschews public transportation, but because it's not even the bus he'd intended on getting on. He's had a lot on his mind ever since his experience with that voice in the dark, okay? It's not like it's a regular thing. But it's enough to annoy him--he's lived in this city for nearly three years now. Surely by this time he should know the bus routes well enough to not hop the first bus that pulls up to the stop.

Whatever. At least he's not standing out in the rain anymore.

It's just his luck that the stranger that boards three stops later chooses him to sit down next to. Riku frowns to himself (there are plenty of empty seats--hell, even empty rows--further back; why take the seat next to him?), but he's not about to let the stranger know that he's needled him.

At least, he's not planning on it until he notices the crossbow slung over the other man's back.

Riku can't help himself. He tugs an earbud from his ear and lifts an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at the weapon before back to the man.

"Pretty sure neither vampires nor werewolves exist, Van Helsing," he says dryly. "And we left the 1600s behind a few centuries ago."

Edited 2013-11-24 03:44 (UTC)

Varric will take whatever the hell seat he wants, all right. He's been caught out in the rain and chased by possible hallucinations - in which case he will be most definitely finding those tea makers again, and not for more tea - or possible mutated animals of some kind.

Either way, he's had a bad day. And that means he's sitting his ass down in the first seat he sees that's far enough from the front that the bus driver won't see him very well.

Even if it's next to a nosy kid.

"Tell that to the Renaissance Faire people."

"They at least have the sense to leave the crossbows where they belong," Riku points out. He's not even sure how the other man managed to get on the bus in the first place; since when has carrying a crossbow in broad daylight become socially acceptable? This guy's going to get the both of them in trouble.

"You might at the very least consider getting it out of sight. I think you're scaring that old woman three rows down."

To say nothing of the bus driver glancing in the rearview mirror and catching sight of it.

Because he's Varric, and he can get away with anything, that's how. And also because when it's partially collapsed and slung over his back, apparently he can move quickly enough that inattentive bus drivers don't even notice.

But mostly because he's Varric.

"She belongs here just as much as I do." Which is not at all, but the kid doesn't need to know that.

Though granted, he probably should put it out of sight. But now that he has her - it - he's finding it hard to stop looking. "She's three rows down, if she's looking over here enough to get concerned, maybe she should mind her own business."

The kid doesn't need Varric to tell him how little he really belongs there. It's obvious enough just by glancing at him. A smirk tugs at the corner of Riku's lips. "You don't take the bus that often, do you? As soon as you set foot on that first stair, everything about you became fair game for speculation. Frankly, I'd be more worried if you weren't getting stares right now."

The quick, uncertain glances? Those are normal enough. Those mean she'll be going to her neighbors later and telling them all about the fellow on the bus she saw. It's when people are pointedly not looking in your direction you have to worry--those are the people that are more likely than not to get off the bus and immediately point you out to the nearest LEO.

I'm obligated to wildly and dramatically object to your generalization of local law enforcement.

[SAID OH SO CALMLY.]

Obligated how, exactly?

I have a few friends there.

Then maybe you should be more concerned about your safety, and theirs, than defending the law enforcement's honor.

Who says I'm not concerned?

A wet miserable day does not mean that one must sacrifice one's style. Using a perfectly sturdy - though colorful - umbrella to keep the worse of the rain off of him, Alan Loveless, costume designer and finest Gothic dresser in all of Locke City, had boarded the bus with a delicate sniff and made his way to the back where he sat impatiently awaiting his stop. He was suppose to have met a fellow designer and lover of all things Gothic but the weather turned from slightly misty to sudden torrent, thus calling the event off. And since he had not thought about driving, he was stuck with the public transit system.

So when the big guy with the strange contraption took a seat next to him, Alan just to raise one perfectly tamed eyebrow in slight fascination. He may not look like it, but he certainly knew quality work when he saw it, and that crossbow is one of them.

"Pardon me, but where did you find such a beautiful piece of machinery?" Yes, he has fangs when he talks.

...fangs. Of course the guy setting next to him as fangs, and of course he looks as though he might as well be at that damn Renaissance Faire. Or close enough, anyway.

And of course he asks the one question that Varric doesn't have an answer for. All right, well, no, there's a lot of questions that Varric doesn't have an answer for, but this is the most pressing one at the moment. Mainly because it's the one being asked of him.

"This little beauty? A friend of mine invented her."

As soon as it's out, he realizes - he's pretty sure it's not actually a lie.

"Oh? Well, I must say that your friend has a wonderful eye for details."

He was immune to the looks people gave him ever since he started dressing like this back when he was still in high school. The teeth were a new addition, but again he did not think much about how it made him appear so long as he did not lisp while he talked. It was horrible enough as it was being a designer without having someone make fun of - horror of horrors - a fanglisp.

"I don't think I've seen many even from the Faire that have such lovely filigree work on the shaft."

And to think, all you had to was find out a couple of numbers.

If this wasn't such a hush-hush network, I'd say they needed better advertising.

If only I'd known it was so simple.

Even hush-hush networks need some advertising.

You'd think so. The way these people tell it, everyone without a number in their head is The Enemy.

[Guess who isn't really into the whole conspiracy theory thing?]

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this is a [test] of the emergency broadcast system

Varric Tethras | Dragon Age 2

[action] HE'S ON A BUS VARRIC TETHRAS DON'T YOU EVER FORGET

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audio; sliiiides in here

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