Oct 2, 2014
//What happened to logicalthought-and programming? ;;
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//What happened to logicalthought-and programming? ;;
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(Eventual) Buttons splicer! What a precious. I have a soft spot for splicers.
Intellectual, genius, but not well-spoken at all. One holding back the other, and come here, I will sing your praises. His flaws make him human and introduce inter-character conflict.
It hasn't come up yet (pun intended) but a character with little to no sexual interest is refreshing and much appreciated.
"I’m not speaking to you anymore."
( This simply earns a blink from both. )
❝Good.❞ ❝Perfect, even.❞ ❝We wouldn’t prefer it any other way.❞
"Why sister, we seem to find ourselves in the city of Rapture once more." "Why ever would someone want to build a city underwater?" "The same reason someone would construct a city in the clouds, I'd assume." "Don't make assumptions brother, it's unbefitting of you."
"You wouldn't happen to know your way around this subaqueous deathtrap, would you?" "Why don't we ask for directions?" "You know the answer to that question." "Nonsense, it'll be novel." "Fine then, inquire away, dear sister." "Wonderful." Rosalind took a minute to scan around the submerged city, not yet ravaged by a wretched war. Neon lights decorated the walls, and denizens walked around without a care in the world. They all looked oblivious to the world around them. However, someone in particular stood out. A rather large, somber figure off in the distance. He wasn't like the other residents of this "utopia", and proved to interest Rosalind enough to draw her attention towards him. "I think we've found our guide." "I want it known that I am vehemently opposed to this venture. I don't like this city, even slightly." "Come now, brother. Where's your sense of scientific curiosity." "It was quelled the moment, we could travel trans-dimensionally..." She ignored her brother, walking towards the strange gentleman with the glasses. "You there, sir. May we have a moment of your time?"
'Huh?'
"Devia de se preocupar mais com auto-realização e menos com o que as outras pessoas pensam de si, Senhor Blackwood,"
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logicalthought-andprogramming has appeared;
May the staring begin.
to the winners of my giveaway:
tell me what you want for your drawings so i can get started on them uvu
betta splendens || logicalthought-andprogamming
Splicers.
Vile creatures, in Rosalind's opinion. Always aggressive, overtly so.
If one is going to attack someone, one should at least assess the probability of being disappointed with the results -- that is to say, killed.
Then again, she doesn't expect the splicers to be very intelligent. Or wise. The ADAM has undoubtedly warped their perception of reality, which is a shame because Rosalind is not a fan of wasting human life, letting it rot away at the bottom of an ocean like Andrew Ryan did. Worse yet, what Frank Fontaine plans to do should he gain control of the poor, desolate city. Really, it's barbaric, and that's an opinion held by someone who lived in Columbia; the underground politics were as corrupted and violent as the ridiculous tug-of-war game the two men have fuelled by their followers, but at least the Vox Populi were of their right mind. Rightfully upset, she also supposed. She never bothered herself with the politics, instead focusing on science.
It's science that brings her to Rapture, but she wishes she'd chosen a nicer time to visit -- from visiting Jeremiah Fink's laboratory, she'd gathered that Rapture was a beautiful city, standing proud and gleaming at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean. Clearly, she'd chosen an inopportune time to examine it from top to bottom as a side-project. A vague interest, if you will.
She picks up a bottle of Plasmid -- Incinerate, which is fascinatingly similar to Devil's Kiss. In life, Rosalind opted not to use Vigors, or fight at all, but from the notes she'd salvaged, she would have preferred it to a Plasmid anyways. She sets the bottle down, turning away from the counter and surveying the dishevelled room with a crease in her brow and pursed lips.
Her eyes fall upon another form in the room, once she hadn't noticed when she entered. She pauses, not out of fear, but curiosity -- he appeared to be a splicer... but if he was, why hadn't he flown into a rage? Had he not noticed her? Surely, he had, she was rather noticeable given her state of dress and unconcerned demeanour. Curious... very curious...