hiatus

i’m considering taking a partial hiatus from tumblr rp. from this point on, i likely won’t be taking on any new threads. there are a couple of threads in progress that i really do want to play out, but other than that, i might just stick to discord rp with a select few.

p. pog

Just under the base, Levi finds himself an opening. A hole, caused by rusting metal. Entering the base, wasn’t as smoothly done. Wet claws, scraping against hard, smooth metal as Levi attempted to crawl inside to begin his search for trinkets a new. Once inside, the wyrm glanced around, unsure of how far into the base the visitor had gotten.  Leviathan stood to move into cover, keeping out of view. Who knew what the boat’s resident was capable of. He ducked into another room as he heard footsteps coming closer, careful not to bump his tail against anything around him and give his position away. 

The ocelot’s ears crook and twist this way and that as he stalks DEEPER into the base.  Even during its heyday serving as the Diamond Cutters’ HQ, a LOT of routine maintenance was required just to keep these walls standing against the battering waves.  Without Smithy’s dedicated hand, it’s only a matter of TIME before this floating pile of scrap becomes a new home for the fishes.  For now, it is a hollow stronghold of EERIE noises────creaks and groans as it STRUGGLES despite itself.  It’s haunted and dangerous and Slinger NEVER intends to stay long.

...But he knows the sound of FOOTFALLS when he hears them.

@wispslinger​

It…couldn’t be.

Claire was sitting on a tree when she sensed the energy. But why? It didn’t made any sense. She couldn’t feel it when she fought her way out from the androids. When she passed somewhere out, awakening later, trying to reach the others with telepathy. It’s been months. So why now…?

A shaky breath as the monkey stood up from the branch. Although changed, it definetly belonged to someone Claire felt akin to a older brother figure. Wanting to swing down, the psychic realized that this was impossible consdering the androids ripped her tail off while attempting to fight them. So instead, Claire jumped from tree branch to tree branch before landing on the ground, heading off into  the direction where the teen could sense his energy the strongest.

Hiding behind some bushes the monkey tried to be stealthy. It was him. It couldn’t be Mimic walking around as Slinger. For some reason…she could sense it was him.

“…Slinger.”

Finally taking the courage to step out, Claire was still slightly shaken as she stared. The only thing currently to recognize was her voice and the familiar clothing the diamond cutters wore. The usually long tail nowhere in sight, her face was covered from the hood to hide her two notched ears.

Slinger is on his side in the grass at the base of a tree when Claire finds him, and if his hands were not loosely wrapped around his gun as they are, he may look like a man who has just lied down to DIE.  It doesn’t take a psychic to see the exhaustion weighing him down.

No doubt Mimic’s betrayal has CHANGED the surviving Diamond Cutters────perhaps for the WORST, in Slinger’s case.  His eyes have never looked so...COLD, and he just stares at the approaching Claire as though he’s really looking right THROUGH her.  Even in his HATRED for Eggman and his empire, the ocelot was PASSIONATE, gleefully putting a bullet in anything bearing the scientist’s trademark, face-splitting GRIN.  But he was also friendly────if a bit SECRETIVE, taking his sweet time to warm up to others────and playful, doling out nicknames in his first language with a wink.

Now?  NOW he doesn’t even bother lifting his head to greet her.  Now he has GHOSTS.

@wispslinger​ // this

Getting in was easy – no lock could ever keep Mimic out for long. He’d gone through each room, each hallway, clad in black as always, tip-toeing low to the floor, with all the elegance as a panther, silently cartwheeling past open doorways, and slinking up, over and under furniture, putting his expert skill as an infiltrator to very good use, all without making even a single floor board creak, setting off even a single trap ( if there even were any ), and didn’t even so much as disturb the weight of the bed as he’d climbed up onto it. And now, like a gargoyle, and as unmoving as one, too, Mimic had been perched atop the headboard for nearly 6 hours, his beak not more than a foot away from the “sleeping” ex-Diamond Cutter, his weight so evenly balanced between two arms, legs and four tentacles, like a gymnast, that it never shook under him, and that Mimic never had to adjust himself even once. All the while, he grinned madly down at them, so drunk on his own skills, knowing he could slit their throat so easily and finally end the borrowed time Slinger was on. Fuck, but he was so good at this. How far Mimic had come from being just the breaking-and-entering guy for a rag-tag “team” of war solider wannabes, now one of Mobius’s top assassins, as silent as the grave he put his marks into and just as deadly as the knives he wielded. His tongue flicked out across his beak.       When they finally woke, Mimic didn’t resist, and even barked out a laugh as he was pinned. They were on high-alert, from ears to tail-tip, and Mimic took it all in, that fight or flight reflex, with a flick of his gaze down and back up, the corner of his beak twitching up into a smirk. He never got tired of it. 

“Ha, well, someone’s gotta keep you on your toes. If I’d been tryin’ to kill you for real, you’d already be dead. But, you already knew that.”   Mimic was let go of, but rather than sitting up, he folded his arms behind his head, and a leg over the other, getting quite comfortable, and as he spoke, he lightly bounced that leg.  “But I gotta say, I’m disappointed, Sling. It’s not just the knives I got strapped all over me that makes me so dangerous; all this time I’ve already been in here, I could’ve messed with anythin’. Poison in all your food and water. Rigged some traps. Hell, just set some bombs and blown the place sky-high. Seems to me like you’re either goin’ soft, losin’ your touch, or just wanted to talk to me so badly that you made it this easy for me to get in. Well? Did you miss me, Sling?” 

NOWHERE is safe────has EVER been safe.  Not since he ran away from his village all those years ago, not since he joined the Diamond Cutters, not since he survived, and ESPECIALLY not since he became a mercenary.  So he should’ve KNOWN better than to take those pills to help him sleep────and sleep so DEEP────but he was so TIRED, the pain would not let him rest.

The STITCHES are so unsightly, his WEAKNESS on full display.  As is that knife, held close to his body and ready to strike like a cobra should Mimic get too close.

❝ Couldn’t care less what you’ve done to the place; it’s not mine to destroy. ❞

Nevertheless, he is out of here the MOMENT he can get away...but it won’t be easy.  For WHATEVER reason, Mimic chose to wait for...gods know HOW long, until Slinger woke up.  And he made it a POINT to let the ocelot know that he is armed to the gills────of which Slinger has no doubt.  In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if Mimic somehow found out about his near-fatal INJURY beforehand.  It’s really no wonder he’s just lying there, so at ease: he could have EASILY killed Slinger, who is in no condition to fight back.

But the assassin is here for SOMETHING, and he wanted Slinger present and conscious for it.

...Calmly────but no less guarded────Slinger scoots back until he can recline against the headboard.

❝ Seems more like YOU’RE the one who missed ME, Mic.  LONGING for those Diamond Cutter days or something?  Never pegged you to be the NOSTALGIC type. ❞