[ the id will read "@onyakomtrikru", not because she set it that way, but because she didn't understand what the fresh hell this thing was until about twenty minutes after she'd been tapping at the screen with increasing frustration (tapping more on the side of punching by the latter part of that twenty minutes). tablets weren't a thing anya's people had in the forests they made their home. shelter, clothing, weapons, hunger. death by exposure, survival of the fittest, moving to keep yourself alive - all these things anya understand perfectly well.
texting, however, is not on that list.
as such, when she manages to open the menu for broadcasting a transmission, and a keyboard pops up at the bottom of her screen, it's really more a moment of... experimental pecking. ] gedpok' TRKIJD''-0', [ yeah, no, that's not gonna happen. soon enough, she finds the video function, and what can be seen is a woman with severe eyes, and features near entirely caked with mud, looming over the screen, illuminated by the dim backlight, as her once blond hair hangs in dirty clumps around the camera. ]
You're neither Sky People or Mountain Men. Where are you from, and why are you here? [ getting straight to the point. what she means is 'we', why are we here, but that's not a word that anya likes to use. off to the side of the tablet, there's the token 'bump in the night' sounding beyond the walls of the abandoned house anya's camped in for the night. no part of her face shifts, no twitch of expression, but her eyes do coldly slide to the source. ] And who has weapons?
[B] ACTION; ANYA'S COLD.
[ perhaps you've made it into a building to rest and warm up for the moment, or perhaps you're adjusting your gear. maybe you happened upon some new loot and you're deciding if you want to keep what you have or trade out. whatever ends up off of your person for the moment, set aside, be it a shirt, a pair of shoes, a blanket, and especially if it's a coat, it'll soon be sneaking off on it's own.
or, rather, with the help of a woman largely covered in mud and shivering, with very little on aside some rough cloth pants, the coat issued to all new arrivals, with nothing but some scraps of fabric and another worn leather coat that feels too small on her underneath. either way, it's not enough, when anya's spent her entire life in a fairly temperate forest, typically wearing furs and animal skins on top of this. so, don't mind her trying to sneak off with your shit while you happen to be busy.
and if you aren't the kind to turn attention away from your things, well, maybe you're getting thwacked with a stray branch before she goes trying to help you out of your stuff, if you're looking extra well-equipped. and aren't a child. (she's not so horrible she'd leave a child with less than they need to survive, okay, she's a dick but not that big of a dick). ]
[C] ACTION; ANYA'S CREEPY.
[ lights out. it's that one - the one where you've just barely found shelter, and turn to the room to see another figure already occupying the space before it all gets plunged into darkness. however, anya's not the one rushing in at this point. she'll have already been camped out, crouched into a corner of the room, so when her unfortunate companion for the night wanders in, the glimpse they'll be getting of the stranger hovering in the corner is this - all covered in rags, mud and blood, looking like something out of a horror film and likely glaring death at the intruder, before the shadows swallow everything.
a moment of silence settles, and maybe the creepy woman had just been some kind of messed up hallucination, for all the quiet there is. however, it breaks a second later, and her voice is gravely, rough and demanding. ]
Get out.
[D] CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE
[ what it says on the tin - here there be wildcard option. ]
Anya | The 100
[ the id will read "@onyakomtrikru", not because she set it that way, but because she didn't understand what the fresh hell this thing was until about twenty minutes after she'd been tapping at the screen with increasing frustration (tapping more on the side of punching by the latter part of that twenty minutes). tablets weren't a thing anya's people had in the forests they made their home. shelter, clothing, weapons, hunger. death by exposure, survival of the fittest, moving to keep yourself alive - all these things anya understand perfectly well.
texting, however, is not on that list.
as such, when she manages to open the menu for broadcasting a transmission, and a keyboard pops up at the bottom of her screen, it's really more a moment of... experimental pecking. ] gedpok' TRKIJD''-0', [ yeah, no, that's not gonna happen. soon enough, she finds the video function, and what can be seen is a woman with severe eyes, and features near entirely caked with mud, looming over the screen, illuminated by the dim backlight, as her once blond hair hangs in dirty clumps around the camera. ]
You're neither Sky People or Mountain Men. Where are you from, and why are you here? [ getting straight to the point. what she means is 'we', why are we here, but that's not a word that anya likes to use. off to the side of the tablet, there's the token 'bump in the night' sounding beyond the walls of the abandoned house anya's camped in for the night. no part of her face shifts, no twitch of expression, but her eyes do coldly slide to the source. ] And who has weapons?
[B] ACTION; ANYA'S COLD.
[ perhaps you've made it into a building to rest and warm up for the moment, or perhaps you're adjusting your gear. maybe you happened upon some new loot and you're deciding if you want to keep what you have or trade out. whatever ends up off of your person for the moment, set aside, be it a shirt, a pair of shoes, a blanket, and especially if it's a coat, it'll soon be sneaking off on it's own.
or, rather, with the help of a woman largely covered in mud and shivering, with very little on aside some rough cloth pants, the coat issued to all new arrivals, with nothing but some scraps of fabric and another worn leather coat that feels too small on her underneath. either way, it's not enough, when anya's spent her entire life in a fairly temperate forest, typically wearing furs and animal skins on top of this. so, don't mind her trying to sneak off with your shit while you happen to be busy.
and if you aren't the kind to turn attention away from your things, well, maybe you're getting thwacked with a stray branch before she goes trying to help you out of your stuff, if you're looking extra well-equipped. and aren't a child. (she's not so horrible she'd leave a child with less than they need to survive, okay, she's a dick but not that big of a dick). ]
[C] ACTION; ANYA'S CREEPY.
[ lights out. it's that one - the one where you've just barely found shelter, and turn to the room to see another figure already occupying the space before it all gets plunged into darkness. however, anya's not the one rushing in at this point. she'll have already been camped out, crouched into a corner of the room, so when her unfortunate companion for the night wanders in, the glimpse they'll be getting of the stranger hovering in the corner is this - all covered in rags, mud and blood, looking like something out of a horror film and likely glaring death at the intruder, before the shadows swallow everything.
a moment of silence settles, and maybe the creepy woman had just been some kind of messed up hallucination, for all the quiet there is. however, it breaks a second later, and her voice is gravely, rough and demanding. ]
Get out.
[D] CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE
[ what it says on the tin - here there be wildcard option. ]