17 October 2012 @ 11:07 pm
❧ 17  
.: at 456 Stone St :.

[It's a sleepy, uneventful morning in the small house, and then the unhappy housewife bears down with a frying pan on the intruder into their kitchen with a loud, echoing clang.]

.: Somewhere down Mitchell Rd :.

[It's also a peaceful late morning, with the children already gone to school, the birds settling after foraging for food, and a large tank making its way noisily down the street to grind to a halt right outside 1449 Mitchel Rd. With a deafening sound, it turns its somewhat outdated canon to the house, before a loudspeaker rattles the window in a rather feminine voice. :.]

Young man! Get out here with my motorbike, or else!

.: around 456 Stone st :.

[Later in the day, Hungary is happily hosing down her newest regain. She's also whistling to herself as she does.]
04 June 2012 @ 02:37 pm
16 ❧  
[at 456 Stone st]

[It's pretty obvious by now that the house hasn't been cleaned over the weekend. There are dishes in the sink, some toys in the living room, and plates with leftover cake lying around. And there's also a visibly irate young woman standing at the foot of the half fixed staircase, banging a wooden spoon against the wall.]

Do you know how many people live in this house? Not just me, that's for sure! And just because I don't mind the occasional mess [that she's been cleaning up until the memory corruption] this doesn't mean we have to live like pigs. I'm not picking up after anyone!

[Outside 456 Stone st, and visible in the backyard]

[Guess who has assembled and lined up a neat row of rifles and a couple of pistols? This country here. She's exchanged her pretty dress for her uniform pants and a tanktop, and she's done lining up targets all over the yard.]

We're not going back inside until you hit bulls eye in every target. I won't always be around to protect you children, you know.

Tonight, I'm making men out of you!

[AU info: Hungary is currently in her teenage years, at least in her head. She also firmly believes she's a guy (still)]
25 March 2012 @ 09:30 pm
15 ❧  
[Backdated to March 23]

A: [For once, 456 Stone st looks rather festive. The pastries in the kitchen's taken some extra effort: muffins, pies, and cookies. But it's the cake with the frosting, which Hungary is decorating with Happy Polish-Hungarian Friendship Day that's the centerpiece.

For its part, the living room has been fixed to the best of hers ability short of repaired the collapsed staircase.]

B: [Right outside 1332 Benny rd there may be an overpowering floral scent, all thanks to a gigantic bouquet of tulips and geraniums hides the slender form carrying it--until it sneezes at the assortment of too many petals and stems and perhaps too much pollen.

Although the real feat was taking it all the way to Benny Rd on a motorcycle.]
21 February 2012 @ 07:45 am
❦♕❧ One  
{432 Peepers Street}

[Austria had been reluctant to open her eyes as she laid in bed. She could feel something was off from the moment she'd started to wake up. She was quite positive that she was not in her own bed, as she rolled over to bury her face in a rather stiff pillow. She reached a hand over to pet the other side of the bed, only to hit air instead of more mattress as she was used to. This was definitely not her bed.

Perhaps, she'd wandered into the wrong room in the middle of the night without realizing it. Her house had been going under continual changes and renovations as of late and she could have easily slipped back into one of the servant rooms in a sleepy daze. However, that failed to explain her change in dress. The cotton night gown she was now in felt coarse against her skin. It was a complete divergence from the soft chemise she had gone to bed in.

Opening an eye, Austria was certain that she was not in her home and this room was not to her tastes. Pink with white trim dominated every aspect of the design and her belongings were nowhere to be found, replaced with foreign looking little novelties. The closet, incredibly small, was filled with barely finished, unfashionable dresses that were in no condition to be worn cleaning, let alone out and about.

Had she possibly been kidnapped, she began to wonder? It certainly wasn't an impossible idea, but she was Austria. At another time this might have occurred daily, but not now. Not when her dominion and power stretched throughout Europe like it did. Whomever it was that had taken her hostage was obviously no ordinary individual.

Quietly she rose from the bed and made her way to the door, testing the strange doorknob. She hadn't been locked into her room, obviously her kidnapper did not mind if she roamed around on her own. Moving slowly and quietly she makes her way through-out the home. She didn't have time for this kidnapping nonsense.]

{Around Town}

[Hesitantly Austria wanders around town, continually reaching down to pull at the hem of a dress she'd found in her closet. It was much too short for her liking. A young lady's ankles and calves being visible was completely inappropriate, however she couldn't very well wander around in nothing more than a nightgown.

She could have stayed inside, but she was rather convinced there was something decidedly off about the house's other residents and she wasn't entirely sure if they were even remotely trustworthy. She needed some time alone to gather her thoughts regardless.

Tugging her hem down awkwardly again, she hoped her visit to Mayfield would be nothing more than brief.]
14 February 2012 @ 06:00 pm
14 ❧  
[It's a beautiful day, and Hungary couldn't have been happier. This is the nicest her flowerbed has looked in a year, which makes the vicious guarding of it for the past few weeks all worth it.

It doesn't hurt that she's been gifted with an equally beautiful arrangement of blood red roses, as well. Hopefully, her happiness is as contagious as the pollen is.]

A: Action right outside 456 Stone st [Hungary's elbows are propped on the windowsill right over the flowerbed, on her face an expression of utter bliss. She's in a good mood, so she'll certainly be sweet this time. She'll even let you step on the grass.]

B: Action about town [Could be the bakery, or the flower shop, or shopping anywhere, really. Someone is looking for an extra special gift for that extra special someone. Also, she's on a horse]
01 February 2012 @ 11:11 pm
A: 1447 Mitchell Road, backdated to Jan. 31

[She was missing yesterday, being operated on and stuck in the factory with all those other poor souls, so when she finally makes it back to her house the next day, she's looking a little ruffled around the edges, but not unharmed. Physically.

She certainly does seem confused when Kumarie and Moose want her attention, though. Animals are cute and all, but not really her thing.]

B: phone, backdated to Jan. 31

[Well it sounds like Canada, but the tone is a bit wrong. And way too loud.]

Hey everyone! I know you're all freaked out over the horrible things going on around here, but I wanted to promise you that the heroine is on the case and I'll have everything back to normal in no time. You're all really lucky to have me, you know, but how grateful you'll all be when I fix this will be thanks enough.

Stay strong, Mayfield!

C: around town, Jan. 31, Feb. 1

[If you look like you're struggling at all, or even just sad about whatever activity you're performing, you'll suddenly have a blone popping up, trying to assist you.]

Here, let me help!
30 January 2012 @ 08:04 pm
13 ❧  
Action: A
[It's a deceptively pleasant afternoon. The weather is cool just enough for a stroll, and robins are chirping in the background. And there's a flowerbed. There's not much in it, but it extends from the porch outward toward the curb.

But if you get too close to the freshly planted bulbs and bushes you'll have a piercing shot with a near terrifying accuracy--or close to it. It's mostly a warning shot. Or is it?

Action: B

[You're going about your errands, work, walks, what have you. Perhaps peacefully, perhaps groggily considering the latest event. Don't mind a speeding motorbike skidding impatiently at red lights, short of running poodles over.]


Haha... Ahaha. [A choked sob, followed by a shaky breath.] I knew it would happen. I knew it.

[OOC: As an after effect of the surgery, Hungary's hair has gone completely white. Her brain was modified to induce extremely violent tendencies.]
29 January 2012 @ 09:57 pm
2nd Pocket  

[The voice on the other end sounds rather faint at first, then louder, then faint again, as if they keep moving the phone closer and further away from their head - or vice versa]

Okay, now press the- not that, the other one, the... come on, you can shoot a cue, you can dial a phone, it's not that- look, nevermind, just set it here, I don't even care.

[There's a clunking noise, like the phone hit glass almost, and the volume steadies]

Slick, Deuce, what's up on your end? I'm in... a situation.

[Action A; 463 Stone Street]

[That sure is Droog's body sitting at the kitchen table. And that sure is Droog's head in a jar. And that sure is his face mashed up against one side of the glass in the most undignified manner as his hands clumsily jam the filter end of a lit cigarette against the other.

Unsurprisingly, it's not working. He knows it's not working. But he's still trying. Addiction is a powerful thing.]

[Action B; outside 463 Stone Street]

[You probably notice the headless body in a dapper suit wandering around like a chicken with its head cut off an idiot, waving its hands about likes it's trying to feel around for something. You probably next notice the head in a jar lying on its side on the lawn, the irritated face of a very angry mobster clearly visible and, the reason you noticed it, its voice clearly audible.]

No, to your left... other left, come on. Over here, come on, closer, closer... no, that's towards the house, I'm over- damnit, this should not be this much trouble.

[Action C; Grocery Store]

[It's while browsing the aisles, looking through the various labels and brands that suddenly you find yourself face to face with another person. Not because you reached the end of the aisle, but because there is a head in a jar just sitting on the shelf, glaring angrily at you.]

Yeah, what are you looking at?

[Action D; Some street on some hill or even slight incline]


[A string of curses doppler's past you, or perhaps it coming straight towards you, or whatever. The point is, it's headed downhill, and if you bother to look, you can clearly see some kind of jar rolling down the street and a man in a suit chasing frantically after it. Only the man doesn't have a head, and the cursing seems to be coming from the jar]


[Perhaps you could go stop the jar for him, since he's obviously having trouble catching up with it. Or perhaps you could do the wise thing and pretend you didn't see and go about your day.]
24 January 2012 @ 10:44 am
One 8ite; Action.  
A. Action: Mayfield High School; Start of the day.

[Having received a call a day or so back about her apparent new job in this town, Mindfang's finally decided to show. It was a waste of her time really, but no one said she ever had to actually stick with the curriculum given to her.

In fact her first act had been to throw that out one of the windows. Mindfang makes her own lesson plans thank you. Lesson plans in kicking ass and not being a loser like a certain douchefins or redeyes. And after that was all done she had taken a seat, chin on her hands as she watched children slowly trickle in, eyes half lidded, her appearance still disturbing despite the 50's clothes, considering her troll body.

When everyone was seated she finally stood, flicking her eyes over the lot]
Well then. This is life skills blah blah blah, it really doesn't matter. The life skills they want you to learn are useless, so we're not doing them, got it? We'll be following my plans, and if anyone has a problem with that you can leave now. If anyone considers them too weak, go too. I don't have time for people who don't want to be the best, and I don't need to sit around talking to idiots about blah blah why did you crush my wiggler, swords aren't appropriate learning materials blah blah he was bleeding everyone blah. Waste of my time. Understand?

[She flicks her eyes over the class again, coming to stand in front of the desk] Now, I'm Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, Captain of the Gamblignants. You will call me Marquise, nothing else unless I allow you.

Now. Introduce yourself because I threw that stupid list of names out too.

B. Phone: After school

I'm looking for a Vriska. If anyone sees her, tell her to come to 952 Beulah Street right away. If I'm not there she can wait.

...And will anyone care to enlighten me about this dairy place.

C. Action: Out the front of 952 Beulah Street

[Dualscar's gone. Dolorosa's gone. Both smile at her with the face of a drone, and the fact that Dualscar smiles at her at all is wrong. Even if he never regained his troll body, the features of this human man are similar enough that it makes her ill. She had missed him, for all the sweeps after his death, missed their battles, missed winning against him, missed the hitting and scratching until both their bloods covered them. He had been a decent kismesis despite his stupidity to try and flip into a red romance, and for a moment she had thought they could regain what they had once had.

And now he's a drone. A drone lying unconscious on the front lawn of their home, Mindfang having finally snapped at the petnames and smiles. Sitting next to him, she takes a swig from a bottle of some alcohol she's found,  before lazily drawing one yellow nail down his his cheeks, sneering at the red blood that comes.

Worse than the real Dualscar really. She should leave him here to die, even if the drone will just return. At least she'll have a night of peace.

Instead she'll just kick the body, rolling it onto his face as the sun starts to set]