Senses blanking, falling into a torpor state. It's... surprisingly not uncommon for Vincent Valentine. A dream-like vision of a memory, returning to slumber after being awakened from a nightmare... feeling that terrible, horrorible rush of anger and monstrous rage as he felt control slip away while striving to cling to some thread of humanity that can force that other form to distinguish friend and foe. But it had also been a little different. Awakening was in a way similar except...
An unfamiliar ceiling. Vincent doesn't immediately move. Instead he does a quick assessment of his person. No injuries, no aches. Nothing screams impending threat even if it's rapidly becoming clear that the voices around him are not ones he's familiar with or was last in company of. He feels the weight of his gun holstered at his side, armor still in place and comfortably swathed in black leather and red, tattered cloak.
The only thing that's changed beyond the unsettling (but once again unpleasantly familiar) air of something being different about himself. He's not going to find out laying on the ground. With what might sound to others like a resigned sigh of someone who realizes they need to get out of bed when they absolutely do not want to, the dark haired man sits up. Pale features mostly shrouded from sight, bright ruby eyes. Even odds on whether he had those before coming here or he's an unlucky recipient of the Moon's effects before he even gets to his feet.
"Where am I?"
II Car Parts For Startup
He has an idea of what's going on now. Vincent has accepted the explanation in light of all the evidence that he's not still in his world and proof of it further suggested by the tattoo on the nape of his neck.. Glimpsing it is a rare occasion, given the layers he sports but sometimes the angle is just right.
As the storm is still on the approach, the red-cloaked gunman can be found going through the scrap and spare parts, looking for those that will be the right fit for a vehicle that... well, seems to belong to him now. Ones that are good enough are added to a pile. Ones that aren't are put back. Upon occassion he looks up with narrowed red eyes at the dark clouds.
III Need a sniper? (Weathering)
There's a major advantage of being nigh literally dressed head to toe in leather and thick red fabric when bird storms bust out windows and that's surviving the chaotic first strike relatively intact. As well one or two people who might have been standing near him as he raised the red fabric to shield himself and them; even going so far as to try and reach out to haul them closer.
Possibly one of the first signs since his arrival that he's not as indifferent to others as he appears. The very least, Vincent Valentine knows the value of allies and teamwork.
"Got a good car?" Calls for people to lead away the birds that are attracted to the shine of chrome have not been missed. He hadn't gotten his fully completed before the storm hit. And besides...
"I'll shoot if you can drive." The gun's already in his hand. So if someone needs protection while they're playing distraction...
IV Becoming a Monster? Must be Tuesday. (Just Get In There And Rip Off That Bandaid Vincent)
It's at some point during the torrent of birds, a monster that probably doesn't belong on Revan at all appears on the battlefield. A terrible, bipedal beast larger than most humans and covered in short purple fur which hides none of the long claws and sharp fangs in the gaping mouth of a bestial muzzle. A rippling, crimson mane courses from neck to withers and a tail lashes the air in display of its rage. Horns curled forward look a particularly cruel fate if it were to gore someone with them. Who knows, but it might be similar to a familiar monster back home.
It will greedily fall on the poor birds that get grounded and finish them off and it will roar with particular frustration at the ones that remain out of range; knowing it should be able to hurl orbs of searing heat but for some reason cannot. Wisdom suggests shooting or grounding the avian menace near it to keep it busy and that will definitely prove not to distract it from its joy of hunting the birds.
Probably best not to attack it while it's occupied though.
Where did it come from? Well, some might have seen the somewhat injured Vincent - a new Drifter in a red cloak with a gun - become the creature; those particularly close at the time would have noticed that it was as if a limit was reached; of anger, or the thrill of battle itself or injuries sustained while kiting the birds away from the convoy. Had someone given him a ride around at the time he would have, yes, jumped out a window before this happened.
...And there is after, as the rest of the flock drifts away in another direction and is dispersed and the beast's energy or time seems spent or purged as the enemy becomes no more. And then the man seems to regain control of himself, returning to his original form. Vincent slumps, though not through any particular injury and not in shock. Exhaustion perhaps.
And an expression that suggests he's all too familiar with what just happened to him in opposition to what this world is doing to its Drifters.
V. Wildcard
[ ooc: Anything not suited to the prompts above? HMU. Need someone to catch a falling Drifter after the storm? Help with some salvage? See a stray quicksilver feather caught in his hair? Can be reached on maruah or on Discord with Everyworker ]
Vincent Valentine | Final Fantasy OG | New Character
Senses blanking, falling into a torpor state. It's... surprisingly not uncommon for Vincent Valentine. A dream-like vision of a memory, returning to slumber after being awakened from a nightmare... feeling that terrible, horrorible rush of anger and monstrous rage as he felt control slip away while striving to cling to some thread of humanity that can force that other form to distinguish friend and foe. But it had also been a little different. Awakening was in a way similar except...
An unfamiliar ceiling. Vincent doesn't immediately move. Instead he does a quick assessment of his person. No injuries, no aches. Nothing screams impending threat even if it's rapidly becoming clear that the voices around him are not ones he's familiar with or was last in company of. He feels the weight of his gun holstered at his side, armor still in place and comfortably swathed in black leather and red, tattered cloak.
The only thing that's changed beyond the unsettling (but once again unpleasantly familiar) air of something being different about himself. He's not going to find out laying on the ground. With what might sound to others like a resigned sigh of someone who realizes they need to get out of bed when they absolutely do not want to, the dark haired man sits up. Pale features mostly shrouded from sight, bright ruby eyes. Even odds on whether he had those before coming here or he's an unlucky recipient of the Moon's effects before he even gets to his feet.
"Where am I?"
II Car Parts For Startup
He has an idea of what's going on now. Vincent has accepted the explanation in light of all the evidence that he's not still in his world and proof of it further suggested by the tattoo on the nape of his neck.. Glimpsing it is a rare occasion, given the layers he sports but sometimes the angle is just right.
As the storm is still on the approach, the red-cloaked gunman can be found going through the scrap and spare parts, looking for those that will be the right fit for a vehicle that... well, seems to belong to him now. Ones that are good enough are added to a pile. Ones that aren't are put back. Upon occassion he looks up with narrowed red eyes at the dark clouds.
III Need a sniper? (Weathering)
There's a major advantage of being nigh literally dressed head to toe in leather and thick red fabric when bird storms bust out windows and that's surviving the chaotic first strike relatively intact. As well one or two people who might have been standing near him as he raised the red fabric to shield himself and them; even going so far as to try and reach out to haul them closer.
Possibly one of the first signs since his arrival that he's not as indifferent to others as he appears. The very least, Vincent Valentine knows the value of allies and teamwork.
"Got a good car?" Calls for people to lead away the birds that are attracted to the shine of chrome have not been missed. He hadn't gotten his fully completed before the storm hit. And besides...
"I'll shoot if you can drive." The gun's already in his hand. So if someone needs protection while they're playing distraction...
IV Becoming a Monster? Must be Tuesday. (Just Get In There And Rip Off That Bandaid Vincent)
It's at some point during the torrent of birds, a monster that probably doesn't belong on Revan at all appears on the battlefield. A terrible, bipedal beast larger than most humans and covered in short purple fur which hides none of the long claws and sharp fangs in the gaping mouth of a bestial muzzle. A rippling, crimson mane courses from neck to withers and a tail lashes the air in display of its rage. Horns curled forward look a particularly cruel fate if it were to gore someone with them. Who knows, but it might be similar to a familiar monster back home.
It will greedily fall on the poor birds that get grounded and finish them off and it will roar with particular frustration at the ones that remain out of range; knowing it should be able to hurl orbs of searing heat but for some reason cannot. Wisdom suggests shooting or grounding the avian menace near it to keep it busy and that will definitely prove not to distract it from its joy of hunting the birds.
Probably best not to attack it while it's occupied though.
Where did it come from? Well, some might have seen the somewhat injured Vincent - a new Drifter in a red cloak with a gun - become the creature; those particularly close at the time would have noticed that it was as if a limit was reached; of anger, or the thrill of battle itself or injuries sustained while kiting the birds away from the convoy. Had someone given him a ride around at the time he would have, yes, jumped out a window before this happened.
...And there is after, as the rest of the flock drifts away in another direction and is dispersed and the beast's energy or time seems spent or purged as the enemy becomes no more. And then the man seems to regain control of himself, returning to his original form. Vincent slumps, though not through any particular injury and not in shock. Exhaustion perhaps.
And an expression that suggests he's all too familiar with what just happened to him in opposition to what this world is doing to its Drifters.
V. Wildcard
[ ooc: Anything not suited to the prompts above? HMU. Need someone to catch a falling Drifter after the storm? Help with some salvage? See a stray quicksilver feather caught in his hair? Can be reached on