☠ 046

[molotov]

Who: young!Molotov and you
What: being young... and terrible
When: from midnight forward
Where: all over the castle common areas
Rating: shouldn't get over a PG-13

[Tonight, Paradisa, there's young woman prowling your halls. She might look familiar, though not fully. That would be because she has two eyes and is somehow covering even less skin. And while you might know her, she definitely does not know you.

That sucks for you, because she's definitely not the kind of woman you want to surprise. She's an excellent spy, though, so there's a good chance you won't surprise her at all, because she saw you first.

Don't let her shoot first, too.]

Comments

[heloise]

[ Lucrezia thinks she could tell Molotov from the back, despite the ponytail, and she tries to sneak closer and tag her on the shoulder before attempting to run away! ]

[molotov]

[Molotov spins just as Lucrezia reaches out. She catches the blonde's hand and squeezes -- hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to break.]

What do you think you are doing?

bksfnksnaflmf sorry >:

[heloise]

Ow!

[ She tried to tug her hand back, glaring at Molotov. ]

You're hurting me.

:>

[molotov]

[Molotov glares back! She's excellent at glaring.]

As well you deserve. You should just be grateful I do not break it off. Now who are you and who do you work for?

[heloise]

[ ...Molotov is better at it. Lucrezia just pouts and tries to tug her hand away. ]

You do not remember me?

[molotov]

Why would I? I have never even seen you before.

[20thcentury]

[Jenny is trying very hard to quit moping and drinking herself stupid, so she's just sitting outside on the grass right now, arms and legs folded as she puffs away at a cigarette.

This redhead looks vaguely familiar, but more importantly she looks concretely cute, so Jenny looks after her as she does whatever out here.]

[molotov]

[Molotov is heading towards a tree that she obviously intends to climb, but it only takes a few steps for her to realize that she's being watched. She stops, then twists to glare at Jenny.]

What?

[20thcentury]

[Wow, why is glaring necessary? She's just looking, settle down!

Jenny leans back on her hands, eyebrows raised.] Just wondering where you'd even get an outfit like that.

[molotov]

It was made for me.

[20thcentury]

I can tell; it doesn't exactly look like something off the rack.

[echivoc]

[ Cross hits the top of the stairs for his floor, noticing the young woman in front of him. He would check her out, like he would any barely-legal teenager, but that hair...... ]

...Molotov?

[molotov]

[Molotov spins around, gun in hand and arm extended to aim at his face.]

How do you know my name?

[echivoc]

[ ......

Two eyes. What the fuck.

Also, Everything. And he thought her current uniform was fashionably ridiculous.

He throws a glance at the gun before it travels back to her, shrugging his shoulders casually. ]

You look like someone I know.

[molotov]

Someone also named Molotov? If that is the case, you look like someone I should kill.

[echivoc]

What, can't two Molotovs co-exist in this world? [ Although a Paradisa with two Molotovs would be great for some people and horrendous for others.



Who is he kidding, it would be hilariously horrendous for everyone.

He raises his eyebrow at her threat. Attempt to push her and see if she'll do it? ]

If you are so eager to pull the trigger, go ahead.

[wield]

[ Buffy's walking through the lobby, skimming over the journal. She misses her friends, so she's skimming through the old entries they've made, trying not to let herself go.

It's really quite sad, so when Buffy accidentally bumps into Molotov, she doesn't seem too apologetic when she speaks a poor excuse for an apology and turns back to the book continuing forward. ]

[molotov]

[Unfortunately for Buffy, Molotov's immediate reaction is to kick up into a butterfly kick and send a boot at her face.]

asfoijasfml sorry for the lateness. also that reaction made me giggle.

[wield]

[ Message received. Her journal drops out of her hands and skids forward a little bit while Buffy herself drops back. Immediately, she looks up to Molotov. ]

What the hell was that for?

no problem!!

[molotov]

Your manners.

[assassino]

[Ezio is stretched out on a couch in the lobby, sort-of napping, sort-of people watching. Does that make sense? Probably not, but he doesn't care -- he's just content to be chilling, and the lobby is a perfect place to do that.

Then he sees an attractive butt go by, attached to an attractive young woman with a cute bouncing ponytail. Cute! He sits up on his elbows to look at her.

And then he whistles at her. Because he hasn't seen her from the front yet, and is therefore stupid.]

[molotov]

[Molotov pauses, her body tight with sudden rage that seems to course through her. Because she's completely insane.

Then she produces a sai, spins it in her hand, and turns while throwing it directly at the couch. Maybe the asshole who doesn't know to keep silent will be lucky. Maybe she'll just hit right next to his ear.]

[assassino]

[Oh.

He wasn't expecting that.

He picks himself up off the couch, both curious and immediately put on edge -- oh god fighting a woman -- and then he sees her face. It's ALMOST enough to make him forget about the sai that just narrowly missed his head, but still.]

Molotov?!

[molotov]

[Molotov has met enough people so far to be aware that maybe there's someone here who looks like her and shares her name, although she thinks it's more likely that these are all enemy agents (she still doesn't doesn't really buy this "older version" crap) -- the point is that she's not violently surprised to hear him call her that.

That doesn't mean she's reacting well to the continued recognition.

She has a gun in her hand before he's able to stand, and points it at this stranger as she sashays forward.]

Tell me who you are and who you work for, or die. Your choice.

[assassino]

[He lifts his hands, but is suddenly acutely aware of how much harder a future gun might be to dodge. Perplexing.]

I am Ezio Auditore, an Italian Assassin... but I am from the fucking 15th century so rest assured I have no business with your work.