another pre-game catchall!

[fledges]

Who: Kate and whoever!
Where: Westerley, mostly.
When: The past two years.
Summary: Just a log to establish pre-existing cr. Feel free to put up a top level if you want to do anything, no need to contact me first!
Restrictions/Warnings: n/a, but will warn in the subject if anything comes up

Comments

For Kara/Linda/the cute alien girl!

[fledges]

[Kate has decided that Linda is an absolute godsend. She's clever and quick, and while Kate sometimes feels like using trick arrows are a little gimmicky, sometimes a girl just feels the need to have an exploding acid arrow in her life. Just in case.

Every time Kate goes to Linda's shop to pick up a new batch, she looks a bit like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement and energy, a clear bounce in her step. Today is no different, and when she throws open the door of Linda's shop, she does it dramatically, pushing up her shades, her bow and quiver slung over one shoulder.]

Hey! How'd it go?

3 months prior

[sin_of_wrath]

[Set in their decision to accost an unassuming teenager who looked to be half their age, three young men a head taller than him were harassing Meliodas outside of a dull-looking bar in the middle of the afternoon. One held a knife, pointed right in his face, while the other two loomed overhead to cut him off from escaping--though it didn't seem evident from his body language that he wanted to go anywhere.

In fact, he looked as if they were offering to help him with a favor. He answered a question long since repeated over and over in increasingly threatening and vulgar tones.]

What if I don't feel like giving you my keys?

[The question was posed as if he had no clue what would happen--despite the very sharp implement lifted dangerously close to his eye.]

Sup Koon

[fledges]

[It's probably no secret by now that Koon can drive Kate a little nuts. They're both stubborn, which isn't a great match, but Kate wouldn't keep coming back if she didn't think he was worth something. He's been helping, sure, but he hasn't been helping enough, and they need all hands on deck. He's been giving them information, but they're outgunned, and she knows it can't be a matter of personal safety or danger for him. Someone afraid of that wouldn't be waltzing around space as a killjoy.

Which means, of course, that Kate is going to give him the dressing down she thinks he deserves.

The knock is insistent and just on the edge of rude, and if he doesn't get to the door quickly enough, she'll knock again. Open up, Koon, she knows you're there!]

✿ hard boiled detective work

[shikomizue]

[OOC: let me know if you'd like me to change/add anything ;u;b]

[Keep an eye on him, and report back with his movements. It's a relatively simple detective job, on paper. The client who had requested the work - a balding man with wide eyes and a monotonous tone - hadn't been the talkative type. Hushed words and little explanation was provided, beyond a list of possible locations, a description, and a name:

Tani Umenosuke.

Any basic searches would turn up the entertainer's esoteric sense of aesthetic and grim subject matter. Some say he retains a sense of delicate beauty about his work, while others dismiss him as unworthy of attention.

Others say, in whispers and anonymous comments, that the name is but a moniker taken by Takasugi Shinsuke - a man carrying a bounty on his head with almost as many zeroes as crimes on his docket.

Tonight that man is not the center of attention, but lingering among a crowded bar. The air is thick with smoke and the stench of alcohol, something more than tobacco smoldering between many a customer's fingers. The seats and tables are low to the ground, deep reds and stained browns coloring the dimly lit establishment with an atmosphere of lushness that clashes with the chipped door frame and warped windows.

Music, a haunting solo played on the strings of a foreign instrument, intertwines with the low chatter of those within, Takasugi himself sitting, spread comfortably, simply listening to the men at his table. A nervous, wiry fellow repeats himself for the fifth time as two bulky men constantly interrupt - all of them scarred or modified in some way.]