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Getting Prehistoric

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Character Quote: That's my hand in your pocket
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Age: 18
Player: Ace
Joined: 10-December 17
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Jan 16 2018, 02:13 AM
Local Time: Jan 17 2018, 06:01 PM
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Street Level

My Content
Jan 2 2018, 12:49 AM
The biting cold didn’t stop Reva from heading up to the roof each night like clockwork. If she didn’t have a job that night, or wasn’t dragged out by ‘co-workers’ for some mischief, Reva took sundown as her cue to climb the fire escape upward. The little thief already lived on the 18th floor of the kitchy little Court Street apartments in Brooklyn but Reva had a spot all her own up on the roof. Her apartment was a jumble of emotional residue and too large for her to comfortably meditate unless she wanted to shut herself in the closet.

She didn’t want to shut herself in the closet.

Her meditation tent hung down from the underside of the building’s water tower perched like a dark, silent sentinel on the roof, strewn with heavily pigmented aerial silks. It was only accessible by climbing, full of colorful blankets to combat the freezing New York winter and little else. The outside canvas was covered in small painted hand and foot prints, shiny, sparkly trinkets, beads, braided string... It was a bit of a crow’s nest and that’s what Reva called it.

Her crow’s nest.

The blankets inside had been handwoven, chosen because the emotions attached to each brightly pigmented strand and fiber were miraculously calm and pleasant. The small camping lantern hanging from a tie in the center cast a warm glow in her cozy space, illuminating the hands, feet, and sparkling trinkets painted and sewn onto the canvas respectively. Reva was sat comfortably in the swaying structure and had been since the sun had set. Her legs were crossed comfortably, one rested on top of the other. Her palms were delicate folded over each other, the bottom pressed lightly to her stomach. Her dark eyes were closed, the lantern causing her lashes to cast long shadows over her cheeks as she focused inward.

The joys of empathy.

Reva made an effort to keep her own emotions at least tidy. It made identifying and separating her own far easier when they became tangled with others. It was a side effect of her mutant ability that the Jordanian had not yet managed to control without extensive meditation. Meditation and focus. A henna cone was balanced on a tin plate in front of her awaiting Reva to finish. Her ‘tattoos’ had begun to fade and typically the girl faired better when she had a means of filtering outside influences. Logically she knew some henna wasn’t going to make much of a difference but Reva also felt firmly that belief in a thing made a thing.

She believed and so her own superstitious nature allowed the runes of her childhood to work.

The fact that they distracted her marks was entirely irrelevant, but the thought must have crossed her mind because the little thief smiled as she opened her eyes. “You know, I can feel you coming, yes?” she asked. There was a familiar presence very close by and Reva smirked. She had not told Ben much when they’d parted ways. Only that she tended to prefer heights and if he wanted to find her, Brooklyn wasn’t that big.

“Miss me already?”

Scarlet Spider
Dec 22 2017, 01:28 AM
It was just so embarrassingly easy. The security for Landon and Landon LLC was sadly lacking. Of course they probably hadn’t planned on someone ever so gently cutting through the fortieth floor window and slipping inside had been a piece of cake. Admittedly climbing down from the roof had been terrifying exhilarating. The zipline that had brought her from the public building across the street to Landon and Landon’s roof was still hooked up. Let security puzzle over that and search the building for a while.

She wasn’t leaving via the stairs.

Reva shoved her thumb drive down the front of her jumpsuit with a grin, her goggles shoved back in an attempt to keep her hair from whipping into her face. Apparently forty floors up the wind was a son of a bitch. Next time she’d make a braid. She always said that but Reva never braided back her hair. Call it vanity, or call it a favor to all mankind. Her hair was amazing.

“Ok...” Reva eased the window shut again and dangled there a moment, considering her options. Up. Up had been her way in and leaving through the same door she’d come in seemed like a dumb move. Down. Down was very far away and while down could be achieved quickly... Reva didn’t particularly want to escape fast and dead. So slow and alive it was. Nimble fingers were helped along by an enhanced equilibrium and specially made gloves that improved her ability to grip smooth surfaces... Something about microfilaments.

Reva climbed down at a recklessly fast clip, a shadow in the dark as she slid along the glass. It still wasn’t particularly speedy but she was concentrating on each little edge, each narrow frame that she could jam her fingers and toes into. One slip meant one hell of a belly flop and Reva wasn’t much interested in becoming abstract art on the sidewalk. “My god, do I want waffles,” she grumbled as she descended.

With the money she’d get for this score she’d get to eat her weight in waffles.

Waffles with chocolate chips.
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