#micwrs

@micwrs clicked the ❤️ for a starter!

There's something to be said for guard duty. Hazel knows most other campers don't like guarding the gates, since very little happens, but she doesn't mind. It gives her something to do other than to dwell on her curse, and it lets her spend time with Frank, who is probably her best friend at Camp Jupiter. They've been assigned a number of things together, since they're both in the fifth cohort, which helped them to start getting to know one another. He'd always been nice to her, something for which she was grateful; it helped keep her calm, which kept her curse more controllable.

Today looked like it was going to be as boring as most guard duties were, but she grinned over at Frank, an almost mischievous grin on her face.

@micwrs clicked the ❤️ for a starter!

"You know, I get the feeling you don't like me very much," Lotor practically drawled, gazing at the paladin standing outside his cell. He wasn't certain why they felt the need to leave a guard outside; it wasn't like he could go anywhere, even if he were so inclined. Oh, certainly, the moment they let their guard down, lowered the energy field even a little, he could cut through them easily….., if he wanted to.

But he had been telling the truth when he said he wanted peace. And that had to start somewhere.

@micwrs clicked the ❤️ for a starter!

It had been far too long since Alador had spent time with his children. Which was why he was making time for each of them, as well as all of them at once. It was important that he get to know them again, that he listen to and understand their individual interests, what they liked and didn't like.

With everything that had been happening, he felt like he was finally coming up for air, like he could finally see things clearly for the first time in a long time. He'd had his head buried in his work for so long, had let Odalia direct his every waking moment…., but that was going to change.

Alador made his way to Edric's room and knocked on the door, almost sheepishly. He felt like he should have some sort of gift, but he also didn't want his son to think he was trying to buy his way back into his good graces; he knew perfectly well that he was going to have to work to earn back his trust. And that went for all of his children.

Discussed starter for @micwrs - A-991 Rick & Eda

Magic isn't something Ricks have an interest in or deal with. Or well, it would be more correct saying that most of them don't, but every rule, even the strictest, has an exception when you're dealing with infinite realities and infinite possibilities. In any case it's rare to find one who dabbles in something that can be considered the opposite of science and this particular version isn't one of the aforementioned anomalies on the Rick-spectrum.

The black market dealer blows out the last mouthful of smoke and then drops what's left of his joint in the portable disintegrator he always carries around. When you constantly break dozens of intergalactic laws, across many universes, it's always safe to have a quick way to dispose of the most incriminating evidences. He can't exactly just dump his shit in a random portal, not when he is being forced to use a registered portal gun. Not by choice, but life on the Citadel means having to manage with what you're given.

Blue eyes linger on the entrance of what would look like a normal antique shop if it wasn't standing in the middle of no-fuckin-where. His scanner has revealed a flood of unknown energy spread all around the building, which must be some kind of...charm or whatever they are called.

Truth to be told, if it had been all up to him, he wouldn't have taken that particular job. Not only it sounds beyond ridiculous, but he isn't too fond of sticking his noses in business he doesn't truly understand. The last thing his life needs is a curse or some shit like that. However, if he wants to keep his reputation as the guy who can get you everything in existence for the right price, he has to take all the kinds of jobs, even the ones he'd rather skip.

Besides, the clients who ask him for the weirdest crap are also the ones who pay best and, as trivial as it might sound, he has bills to pay and vices to satisfy, costs that he can't fully cover with the salary of his official job. Beggars can't be choosers.

Shaking his head, Rick stuffs his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and sets off towards the door of the shop. He tries not to think about it when his fingers tingle at the touch of the handle and steps inside, gaze darting around to take in his surroundings. The main room is bathed in dim-light and dust and filled with shelves, all stashed full with oddities. Good thing that he knows that the object he is after is in the basement, or it would have taken him hours to go through all that shit.

So far, so good...If it wasn't for the fact that he's not alone in there. There's a woman, not human judging by the shape of her ears, carefully rummaging around the shelves. Rick isn't sure of how much that crap is worth, but he is ready to bet that she's there for the same artefact he is looking for.

It would be just his usual bad luck.