Open Your World

        It feels more like a STANDSTILL than anything else; two wild A N I M A L S accidentally FACE TO FACE —— and so, it takes a moment for her to find the right words. Crystalline grays softening despite her still rapid heart rate, she’s the first to step from her corner of the room: slow, cautious steps, phone grasped tightly.

there are few people in dedsec— few people in hacking, really— whose names carry the weight that clara lille’s does. he supposes james is another one of those people, so he was never really surprised to learn that the colonel and the badboy were long time friends. something about it just… fit.

she has those same unattainable standards as james. she has that same clarity, that same vision; the ability to dissect a situation and extract what she needs and how to get it. clara lille is terrifying. but amr has never been one to put off something because he’s intimidated— dedsec has been trial by fire since day one. he’s be disappointed if clara was anything but.

            his eyes travel from the source of the tapping, up her arm, until his neck is craned long and he can meet her gaze. “you know, we’ve dealt with a lot of crazy obfuscation before. but this? this is some shit,” he pulls his fingers from backlit keys to swing an arm over the back of his chair. “we didn’t come up with anything this sophisticated when we wrote CICADA— and CICADA was evil.”

        One of several skills badboy17 had honed to a deadly point was her POKER FACE. Years of newfound anxiety, at times crippling PARANOIA, and an all too frequent pain within her shoulder hid beneath layers of well trained stoicism. Stoicism that James would see right through. If there was one thing about this moment that was laughable, it was how much of a power couple-not couple they were.

        "I know,” There’s a level of professionalism within her tone that let’s him know they’re in for a long night ( rest assured, she brought the coffee and [hid] the energy drinks [from James] ). Pulling up a chair, maintaining a comfortable, but workable, d i s t a n c e —— “I’m still impressed with CICADA and certainly glad I’m not the one at the RECEIVING END of it. But, I also want you to know what you all - ” there it was again, the distancing, “- can be put up against.”

        Clara, like James, having more than once exercised her protective nature over the NYC branch; cherishing them for being DedSec and all that they had done for her, but what was more? That it was James’ creation, his legacy, something he not only wanted, but needed, to protect; she’d have given her life for him, she still would, shaking and in tears be damned.

    ❛  don’t  get  me  wrong  the  enlightened  hipster  aesthetic  is  totally  fucking  boring,  but  i’m  open  minded!  ❜  there’s this look that screams serious before her telltale grin tugs at her lips, a laugh fluttering through.  ❛  okay,  now  i  gotta  know  -  what  kinda  guy  you  picture  me  with,  or  girl.  you  know.  equal  opportunity  over  here.  ❜

         She doesn’t bother to muffle the laughter that spills out; a moment of downtime shared between the two hacktivists. Something seeping into the corner of painted lips and mischievous eyes —— something maybe, just maybe, a sense of PRIDE, even familiarity.

PROFILER_APP { MEME // ACCEPTING  } 

        Standing at the edge of the digital world, steely hues stared down upon the years worth MASSACRE. Around the world, rumors and tales existed with the same core concept: that you could hear disembodied voices from graveyards, LOST // VENGEFUL // FEARFUL — but this was different. This was a LIVING GRAVE. Mechanical scraping and dissonant automated voices was an ongoing chorus here, where Androids were laid to waste in an informal DUMPING GROUND.

        Yet, one voice breaks through the  W H I T E  N O I S E   —— Connor.

PROFILER_APP { MEME // ACCEPTING  }

PROFILER_APP { MEME // ACCEPTING  }

        Functions input into each compartmentalized train of thought, running each simulation with uncanny precision and she’s left momentarily staring at Riley... Brows finally quirking, painted pink lips parting in a cocktail of bewilderment and suspicion.