[ It's a surprise to see the dense forest slowly level off into grassland -- Blake had become halfway convinced they were going be stuck in the forest forever, that claustrophobic environment nagging on all of their senses until they couldn't stand it anymore. The grasslands are a breath of fresh air in comparison, and Blake almost finds herself enjoying the drive. She cranks her campervan's windows down to let in a breeze, and plays some Evanescence at near top-volume; finding music from car wrecks and introducing herself to the music of another world has proved a considerable mood booster.
Also, Bring Me Back To life is a song that her fourteen-year-old self would have obsessed over as a personal anthem.
The first time she pulls over, it's to investigate some of the Husks. Back at their former stop, she'd talked with John Doe over bowls of porridge, and he'd thought that the Husks were the remnants of the population here. It's a sobering theory, one that Blake's been turning over in her mind for a few days now. So she stops to look at them, keeping her distance at first, studying their strange metallic coating and their contorted, melted limbs. When she dares to get too close-- something like a dinosaur breaks out of it, but Blake almost doesn't notice. She's too distracted with the hunger clawing at the back of her throat -- something she's been experiencing for a month now, but mild, ignorable, now all of a sudden turned into something ravenous and crimson and painful.
She's aware enough only to take out the lizard thing with a few well-placed bullets, but as soon as the fight is over, she falls to a huddled crouch on the ground, arms wound tight over her stomach, almost hyperventilating. Her fangs are aching. Her stomach's going to eat a hole through her; no, the hunger is everywhere, not just in her gut, but in her veins and in her mind, pounding like drums. She falls forward, clumsy, desperate, and sinks her fangs into the dead lizard's throat. It's still warm. ]
✘ ⸻ building thunder
[ Having spotted some houses on the side of the road, Blake had pulled in despite the gathering storm. She'd had to take a moment to gather herself -- the hunger is still thrumming in her veins, in the back of her throat, in her fangs, and she's only clinging to some modicum of control by sheer stubbornness. She feels like she's going to go crazy with it. Like all of her thoughts only last so long before they turn to blood, blood, blood, the craving so keen it hurts.
Getting blown about by gale force winds helps a little, ironically.
Finding shelter in the nearest run-down house, Blake starts poking around. She finds a couple of backpacks, and best of all, books. Most of them are too badly damaged to read much, but Blake loads them up in a backpack anyway; anything she'll be able to glean from them will be useful. Mostly, her heart is set on... blankets and cushions.
She can't explain it, but suddenly she's gained another obsession: blood, and making the back of her campervan really, really comfy. It's all she can think about. Blankets. Big soft cushions. Maybe some cute retro bulbs, or fairy lights. Things to make it soft and warm and nest-like.
Unfortunately, she's found too many for her to carry. So, to the next person that comes into the house, Blake offers a massive armful of blankets, and asks hopefully: ]
Can you help me carry these to my campervan? I'll help you carry whatever you want, afterward.
✘ ⸻ zolom attack
[ Here's the thing: thank the gods for the zolom attack.
Blake would normally feel guilty about being grateful for having giant snakes attack the convoy, but this is something she's actually pretty familiar with. King Taijitu Grimm back in her world are similar, except they've got two heads instead of the zolom's one, and massive bony plates that are hard to cut through. So they're familiar, and they're a distraction from her hunger and the pain in her back that's getting worse by the day, so Blake's... reluctantly kind of glad for them. In a horrible way.
She screeches her campervan to a halt at the first glimpse of a zolom constricting a car. There's nobody inside it, but Blake moves away. She vaults herself up on top of her campervan, bounding from car roof to car roof. She unsheaths her sword, and shifts it with a click to grapple mode, drawing it back and hurling it. The point lodges firmly in the zolom's throat, and as it hisses and whips around to stare at her, Blake dodges a gout of acid. In her place, a shadow fades as acid splashes through it. She reappears on the next car, throwing herself into a forward flip, leap forward, then a tug on her grapple with momentum that has her soaring into the air, flying past the zolom's head and above it into open space.
She yanks on her grapple, weapon back in her hand, and turns in the air to start firing. The zolom lunges, loosening itself from the car it was constricting, but catches only Blake's shadow. She lands on its back, sword point driving down to cut through tough scale, and slashes a long line down its length as she runs down it. She pushes off, landing on the pavement again with a gymnast's precise flip, and opens fire again. ]
If you can't fight; stay back. [ There's a person approaching, and Blake's only thought is for their safety. ] If you can fight-- if you can distract it, I can get at its throat.
✘ ⸻ wildcard
[ ooc note: blake will almost certainly attack and try to drink the blood of whoever answers the first prompt, beware! she's a well-trained fighter, so she'll be difficult to fight off, but she's also not thinking properly, so that'll be a hindrance for her. even if the other prompts, if you bleed around her, she's gonna go feral. if you're not feeling any of these prompts but would still like to interact with blake, feel free to come up with another scenario -- or I can write a starter for us, hit me up at cosmonautdelta ]
blake belladonna | rwby
[ It's a surprise to see the dense forest slowly level off into grassland -- Blake had become halfway convinced they were going be stuck in the forest forever, that claustrophobic environment nagging on all of their senses until they couldn't stand it anymore. The grasslands are a breath of fresh air in comparison, and Blake almost finds herself enjoying the drive. She cranks her campervan's windows down to let in a breeze, and plays some Evanescence at near top-volume; finding music from car wrecks and introducing herself to the music of another world has proved a considerable mood booster.
Also, Bring Me Back To life is a song that her fourteen-year-old self would have obsessed over as a personal anthem.
The first time she pulls over, it's to investigate some of the Husks. Back at their former stop, she'd talked with John Doe over bowls of porridge, and he'd thought that the Husks were the remnants of the population here. It's a sobering theory, one that Blake's been turning over in her mind for a few days now. So she stops to look at them, keeping her distance at first, studying their strange metallic coating and their contorted, melted limbs. When she dares to get too close-- something like a dinosaur breaks out of it, but Blake almost doesn't notice. She's too distracted with the hunger clawing at the back of her throat -- something she's been experiencing for a month now, but mild, ignorable, now all of a sudden turned into something ravenous and crimson and painful.
She's aware enough only to take out the lizard thing with a few well-placed bullets, but as soon as the fight is over, she falls to a huddled crouch on the ground, arms wound tight over her stomach, almost hyperventilating. Her fangs are aching. Her stomach's going to eat a hole through her; no, the hunger is everywhere, not just in her gut, but in her veins and in her mind, pounding like drums. She falls forward, clumsy, desperate, and sinks her fangs into the dead lizard's throat. It's still warm. ]
[ Having spotted some houses on the side of the road, Blake had pulled in despite the gathering storm. She'd had to take a moment to gather herself -- the hunger is still thrumming in her veins, in the back of her throat, in her fangs, and she's only clinging to some modicum of control by sheer stubbornness. She feels like she's going to go crazy with it. Like all of her thoughts only last so long before they turn to blood, blood, blood, the craving so keen it hurts.
Getting blown about by gale force winds helps a little, ironically.
Finding shelter in the nearest run-down house, Blake starts poking around. She finds a couple of backpacks, and best of all, books. Most of them are too badly damaged to read much, but Blake loads them up in a backpack anyway; anything she'll be able to glean from them will be useful. Mostly, her heart is set on... blankets and cushions.
She can't explain it, but suddenly she's gained another obsession: blood, and making the back of her campervan really, really comfy. It's all she can think about. Blankets. Big soft cushions. Maybe some cute retro bulbs, or fairy lights. Things to make it soft and warm and nest-like.
Unfortunately, she's found too many for her to carry. So, to the next person that comes into the house, Blake offers a massive armful of blankets, and asks hopefully: ]
Can you help me carry these to my campervan? I'll help you carry whatever you want, afterward.
[ Here's the thing: thank the gods for the zolom attack.
Blake would normally feel guilty about being grateful for having giant snakes attack the convoy, but this is something she's actually pretty familiar with. King Taijitu Grimm back in her world are similar, except they've got two heads instead of the zolom's one, and massive bony plates that are hard to cut through. So they're familiar, and they're a distraction from her hunger and the pain in her back that's getting worse by the day, so Blake's... reluctantly kind of glad for them. In a horrible way.
She screeches her campervan to a halt at the first glimpse of a zolom constricting a car. There's nobody inside it, but Blake moves away. She vaults herself up on top of her campervan, bounding from car roof to car roof. She unsheaths her sword, and shifts it with a click to grapple mode, drawing it back and hurling it. The point lodges firmly in the zolom's throat, and as it hisses and whips around to stare at her, Blake dodges a gout of acid. In her place, a shadow fades as acid splashes through it. She reappears on the next car, throwing herself into a forward flip, leap forward, then a tug on her grapple with momentum that has her soaring into the air, flying past the zolom's head and above it into open space.
She yanks on her grapple, weapon back in her hand, and turns in the air to start firing. The zolom lunges, loosening itself from the car it was constricting, but catches only Blake's shadow. She lands on its back, sword point driving down to cut through tough scale, and slashes a long line down its length as she runs down it. She pushes off, landing on the pavement again with a gymnast's precise flip, and opens fire again. ]
If you can't fight; stay back. [ There's a person approaching, and Blake's only thought is for their safety. ] If you can fight-- if you can distract it, I can get at its throat.
[ ooc note: blake will almost certainly attack and try to drink the blood of whoever answers the first prompt, beware! she's a well-trained fighter, so she'll be difficult to fight off, but she's also not thinking properly, so that'll be a hindrance for her. even if the other prompts, if you bleed around her, she's gonna go feral. if you're not feeling any of these prompts but would still like to interact with blake, feel free to come up with another scenario -- or I can write a starter for us, hit me up at