#beyond rp

[Like this for a starter of some sort, message me to plot, or tag me in one of the following:

Threads I REALLY REALLY NEED (in no particular order):

1) Spock and Bones between leaving the bridge on the Enterprise and Bones dragging Spock out of the escape pod (easily angst or humor and not super long).

2) Post saving YorkTown Bones and Jim discussing Bones’s line about death in light of past occurrences. (probably angsty).

Terry would sometimes get outside help from one of Bruce's old colleagues once in a while. Aside from Barb and Tim, Terry had gotten help from Superman, Static, even Jason Blood (which had been a very interesting experience to say the very least). Bruce lived a rich life whether he liked to admit or not.

This time though the colleague Terry was visiting was probably going to be the strictest SOB, more so than even Kairi Tanaga. There were still a few bases located around the city that belonged to Bruce, but Terry generally didn't use. The Batmobile was automated and could fly him back quickly to the cave if he needed it.

It was a bath much deserved and looked forward to. When was the last time she was able to soak herself in hot water? To relax and scrub all this nasty dirt and sweat off of herself without worrying about anyone disturbing her for one reason or another? No feds, swat, no assholes with bats. It was just going to be her, the hot bath, soaps and steam and… well Aiden, but only because it couldnt really be helped. But it was all right, even he seemed to be behaving himself. No shampoo bottles were going flying, no writing on the mirrors in the steam. She’d just barely slipped in, a sigh of content passing those lips as she felt the hot water envelop her, lightly stinging at her skin until her skin adjusted to the temperature.

Sadly, it didnt last long at all. 

Next thing she knows the door’s flinging open and there’s that guy in the gasmask just barging in like he owns the place. Well maybe not but he sure as heck didnt give a second thought to his actions. Jodie lurched up from her relaxed sink into the water and reached for the nearest solid object and chucked it at him. A shampoo bottle wasn’t going to do much damage but it might just knock some fucking sense into that thick skull. “Jesus fucking Christ! What the hell is your problem? Ever heard of fucking knocking?!”

So to all the Beyond people, heroes, villains, side characters, OCs and what not, was there anything you wanted to do with Terry or Batman? I know a lot of villains might be worried since that may seem like a the only option in the end is for your character to be thrown in jail or presumably die (because Terry has a nasty habit of that it seems), but I'm also willing to do RPs that took place during the course of the show or original Beyond comics.

Below him breathed the Merhite court, swirls of people and activity as they all moved to their own little tune, the dance and life of a body. All intent on their own activities whatever they may be. It fascinated him in all honesty, although he didn’t understand the need to be down there in the thick of it all, to jostle for place, for the illusion of power that being in the middle of the beast gave them. A living, breathing monster at times, Enzio leaning forward, hands resting on the rail of the balcony, attention caught by someone who most certainly did not belong. A messenger, one among many perhaps, but there was something about his movements, the jerky little motions as he fought against the current that threatened to send him away. Another odd thing, that he wasn’t the smooth motions of the other messengers, and whatever he had to share was clearly important. Enzio could all but taste it, sharp blue eyes tracking the man as he made his way further, tongue flicking out to wet dry lips. Something was coming, something big, every inch of him straining out for it. As eager as the rest of them really, but it wasn’t the show of power that he wanted, the visibility and the endless dances, but the raw energy, the power that the nameless messenger possessed in this moment as at long last, the man reached his father.

The ripple of anger, surprise - and was that fear he could see? - was like a pebble against the water, bouncing from one person to another, leaving a trail in its wake. Like a shock wave it moved through the crowds, a murmur that became a roar, washing over him even as he stood above them all. Dead. The Demos King was... dead. Interesting. Who would have done that naughty little deed, changed everything with one motion, a single act and second. How would it have been done? The knife, the bullet, the wire, the poison. What little toys would have ended the man’s life?

Eyes slanted to the side, taking in Issandria as his sister gracefully moved up the stairs to join him and Enzio was grateful she was here with him for a moment at least. “You?” He questioned softly, knowing the negative answer before it would be spoken. Questions were all he had at the moment, hands full of questions all running through his fingers, but this one at least had a solid answer, one he knew, a tiny little nugget of power. It wasn’t her, and it hadn’t been him, but that still left so many possibilities, and without knowing the who, he was left fumbling in the dark like the rest, but he was determined to find out. That answer promised to hold such tender and raw power it made him almost dizzy merely to think about it, tongue flicking out against his lips once more as he glanced down to the court, to the sheer confusion, the panic below.

“My Lady,” Fira called as she stirred, her voice heavy with... something, sadness perhaps, worry. No, fear.“Your father...”

“Has been murdered,” Aneesha finished, voice clipped, controlled, her mind cast back to the vision she’d had some weeks ago.

Everything was soaked in amber, a burnt umber colour which saturated the world. It was deeper toward her door way, out through the hall, down the corridors. Outside her father’s door it was deepest, turning more to the colour of blood than amber, freshly spilt perhaps.

A shadow crept down toward her from the right, keeping close to the wall. Whomever it was had been cloaked by magics, turning him into nothing more than smoke which swirled and convoleased. An assassin, she mused lightly, watching him with interest. Or her. There was no way to tell through the shadows and smoke.

They moved before her, glancing left and right before entering her father’s bed chamber. Aneesha followed. The vision shifted in the space of a step; she entered the room and ended up beside her father’s bed just as the shade split her father’s throat. The blood was lost in the crimson colour of the vision but she knew it was there, knew that soon enough her father’s blood would spoil the lavender and teal bedspread she had always liked.

She reached out, not to stop the shade but to try and catch it, to see who it was but they vanished between her fingertips, the smoke dissipating into nothing.

That vision had been hers alone, not shared with even Aryah or her brother. Kept tucked away in her heart as she waited for her father’s blood to spill. It had been in her power to ensure no one could but sometimes the best course of action is to let time do as it pleased.