[ The last thing Blake remembers, she and her team were on the back of a trailer making their way through a snowstorm. Duty had been a heavy weight on their shoulders, but Blake had been so exhausted after the attack at the farmhouse that she'd slipped off to sleep-- at least, she thinks she did. It's the only explanation for why she wakes up in a broken-down garage.
For a dream, it feels alarmingly real.
Blake's pretty sure that numb shock is the only thing that's keeping her on her feet --that, and a healthy appetite for fantasy novels, some of which include apocalyptic scenarios and provide a general structure for what one should do when one finds oneself in an empty, half-destroyed garage with nobody else around. She grabs a plastic bag from behind the counter and stuffs some food from the shelves in there, what she can only guess are tourist t-shirts, and some cans of drink that have probably long since lost their carbonation. There, she makes her way outside, footsteps near silent despite the broken glass underfoot.
Outside is a massive convoy, but she only has eyes for one vehicle in particular. She slips into the driver's seat, finds the keys in the glove box, gets back out and circles it. The back says it's a Volkswagen Camper, in split purple and white, with four seats in two rows up the front, and the back two rows taken out to make a sizeable empty space.
So caught up in examining the cracks in a window, Blake startles badly when she realizes someone has approached her from behind. Feline ears flat with shock on the top of her head, she whirls, one hand reaching back to find the hilt of the short katana sheathed on her back. Weary, golden-yellow eyes narrow to take in the stranger. ]
Where did you come from? Did you-- did you wake up in that garage, too?
✘ ⸻ monster attack
[ It's not long before the monsters attack, and Blake's almost relieved. This, at least, is familiar territory.
They're not Grimm, so she doesn't know what to expect, exactly. There are weird little plant things, and things that look like people but with teeth everywhere -- Blake hesitates to shoot that one for so long that it nearly gets her, because the monsters back home aren't human-shaped like that -- and things that she thinks might resemble racoons scurrying in the distance. She's been doing her best to keep the monsters away from the convoy, and the people that are slowly gathering there--
A few cars down, something that looks like an alligator is rapidly barrelling toward someone with their back turned.
Blake sets her heels against the ground and takes off with a sound like a gunshot, sprinting forward. She unsheathes her weapon, and flicks it forward to convert it to grapple form, an L-shaped blade attached to a gun that she throws forward, the ribbon grapple winding around the alligator-monster's thick neck. It roars, and Blake yanks sharply on the ribbon, propelling herself forward to plant both heels in the alligator's snout. It flips to the ground, dazed, but not yet down. Blake recovers her weapon with a tug of the ribbon, and puts herself between the stranger and the monster, gun aimed at its head. ]
Watch out-- these things spit lightning. And I don't even know what else.
[ The second it gets up, Blake starts pelting it with bullets, mouth set in a grim line. ]
✘ ⸻ wind down
[ Somewhere in all the action, Blake noticed that she has fangs now.
One could be forgiven for assuming she always did. The black feline ears on top of her head have always been there, but the fangs are definitely new, and Blake has to keep stopping herself from sticking a finger in her mouth to feel them. The change is at once both alarming and also not the most shocking thing that's happened to her tonight, so, Blake doesn't really know how to feel about it.
On one hand, she just got more cat-like. That's okay. On the other hand... mysterious world, convoy of vehicles, strange monsters.
Yeah, mysterious fangs aren't high on her priority list.
What ranks much higher is helping people in the wake of the attack. Blake hadn't been able to find a med kit or anything, but from what she can tell-- it seems like most of the people here don't have an aura. Where she's from, trained combatants can harness their energy to protect themselves from injury for a while, but going by the minor scrapes and cuts people have... it means they're not from Remnant. Which is kind of mind-blowing.
What she does have are maybe-tourist-maybe-employee t-shirts she found in the back of the garage, torn into strips. And when she comes across someone that looks like they're nursing a wound, Blake volunteers: ]
Can I help?
[ She sounds tentative, expression cautious and reserved. She doesn't exactly do well with strangers, but helping people is what she was training for, so. ]
I don't have much, but these can work as bandages, if you need them. Were you attacked?
blake belladonna | rwby
[ The last thing Blake remembers, she and her team were on the back of a trailer making their way through a snowstorm. Duty had been a heavy weight on their shoulders, but Blake had been so exhausted after the attack at the farmhouse that she'd slipped off to sleep-- at least, she thinks she did. It's the only explanation for why she wakes up in a broken-down garage.
For a dream, it feels alarmingly real.
Blake's pretty sure that numb shock is the only thing that's keeping her on her feet --that, and a healthy appetite for fantasy novels, some of which include apocalyptic scenarios and provide a general structure for what one should do when one finds oneself in an empty, half-destroyed garage with nobody else around. She grabs a plastic bag from behind the counter and stuffs some food from the shelves in there, what she can only guess are tourist t-shirts, and some cans of drink that have probably long since lost their carbonation. There, she makes her way outside, footsteps near silent despite the broken glass underfoot.
Outside is a massive convoy, but she only has eyes for one vehicle in particular. She slips into the driver's seat, finds the keys in the glove box, gets back out and circles it. The back says it's a Volkswagen Camper, in split purple and white, with four seats in two rows up the front, and the back two rows taken out to make a sizeable empty space.
So caught up in examining the cracks in a window, Blake startles badly when she realizes someone has approached her from behind. Feline ears flat with shock on the top of her head, she whirls, one hand reaching back to find the hilt of the short katana sheathed on her back. Weary, golden-yellow eyes narrow to take in the stranger. ]
Where did you come from? Did you-- did you wake up in that garage, too?
[ It's not long before the monsters attack, and Blake's almost relieved. This, at least, is familiar territory.
They're not Grimm, so she doesn't know what to expect, exactly. There are weird little plant things, and things that look like people but with teeth everywhere -- Blake hesitates to shoot that one for so long that it nearly gets her, because the monsters back home aren't human-shaped like that -- and things that she thinks might resemble racoons scurrying in the distance. She's been doing her best to keep the monsters away from the convoy, and the people that are slowly gathering there--
A few cars down, something that looks like an alligator is rapidly barrelling toward someone with their back turned.
Blake sets her heels against the ground and takes off with a sound like a gunshot, sprinting forward. She unsheathes her weapon, and flicks it forward to convert it to grapple form, an L-shaped blade attached to a gun that she throws forward, the ribbon grapple winding around the alligator-monster's thick neck. It roars, and Blake yanks sharply on the ribbon, propelling herself forward to plant both heels in the alligator's snout. It flips to the ground, dazed, but not yet down. Blake recovers her weapon with a tug of the ribbon, and puts herself between the stranger and the monster, gun aimed at its head. ]
Watch out-- these things spit lightning. And I don't even know what else.
[ The second it gets up, Blake starts pelting it with bullets, mouth set in a grim line. ]
[ Somewhere in all the action, Blake noticed that she has fangs now.
One could be forgiven for assuming she always did. The black feline ears on top of her head have always been there, but the fangs are definitely new, and Blake has to keep stopping herself from sticking a finger in her mouth to feel them. The change is at once both alarming and also not the most shocking thing that's happened to her tonight, so, Blake doesn't really know how to feel about it.
On one hand, she just got more cat-like. That's okay. On the other hand... mysterious world, convoy of vehicles, strange monsters.
Yeah, mysterious fangs aren't high on her priority list.
What ranks much higher is helping people in the wake of the attack. Blake hadn't been able to find a med kit or anything, but from what she can tell-- it seems like most of the people here don't have an aura. Where she's from, trained combatants can harness their energy to protect themselves from injury for a while, but going by the minor scrapes and cuts people have... it means they're not from Remnant. Which is kind of mind-blowing.
What she does have are maybe-tourist-maybe-employee t-shirts she found in the back of the garage, torn into strips. And when she comes across someone that looks like they're nursing a wound, Blake volunteers: ]
Can I help?
[ She sounds tentative, expression cautious and reserved. She doesn't exactly do well with strangers, but helping people is what she was training for, so. ]
I don't have much, but these can work as bandages, if you need them. Were you attacked?