glowing_skye: (cooler than you)
A [Action]:

[Ema Skye is not usually a happy person. The fact that she seems to be one today should be a clue that something is amiss. When weird things happen in Mayfield, Ema usually goes into a foul mood and either sulks or mobilizes to take action.

Today, she's doing neither. She's simply sitting in the park, munching on some treats she bought at the grocery store and watching people go by. If any of them are paying attention, she's making catty comments to herself as she takes notes on what she sees. Science at its finest.]

B [Action 2: Electric Boogaloo, Locked to [ profile] puzzlerprince]:

[The real Ema Skye is in a pod just outside of the hospital. Someone was body-snatched on her way to work this morning.]

C [More Action!]:

[Post-rescue (and post-rescuing other people), Ema's just wandering around town trying to take all of the details in. Not knowing what else to do with herself, she's decided to fall back on familiar habits--i.e., investigation. She has her notepad in her hands and is furiously scribbling down all of her observations.

Unlike the pod version of her, she's actually taking notes on things that are relevant to the events at hand.]
glowing_skye: (gentle green)
[A: Action]

[Sometime in the late morning, Ema Skye can be found in her kitchen making (or simply setting out) a variety of breakfast foods: scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits, toast, muffins, fresh fruit, and so forth. There's even coffee and some mimosas made from all-American orange juice from Florida and some sparkling wine from California (not champagne, that's French!).

Why all the food? Well, because it's Independence Day and Ema's decided to have an open house for brunch, that's why! Both her front door and her back one are wide open, allowing smells from the kitchen to drift out into the street and neighboring properties.

Come grab a bite and say hello? An open door means an open invite, after all, and that's what good neighbors do.]

[B: Phone]

[A little later on--after talking to several people--Ema's concerned and more than a little confused.]

I don't know what's gotten into the water, but I'd like to know why everyone is suddenly acting like the Communists have taken over and we shouldn't believe anything we're told.

What the hell happened? I thought this was a place where we trusted each other.
glowing_skye: (tears)
[Klavier's droned. For good.

Needless to say, Ema's taken the discovery pretty hard. The two of them had been together for over a year after arriving within a few months of each other. Yes, lately things had been strained, but they had been working through it. Klavier was her rock, the man who gave her comfort when the town hit her too hard, the man who held her and assured her that she was brave (if reckless) and was doing the right thing.

He loved her. And she loved him. Loves him.

And now? All of that is gone, ripped out from underneath her. She has no rock, no lover to turn to. Mayfield has, effectively, taken away the most important foundation she has in her network of allies.]

Okay, Mayfield. I get it. We're all supposed to be miserable. There's not supposed to be any joy here. Fine.

Lesson learned.

[After a long pause.]

For anyone who knew him: Klavier's been droned.

[And she hangs up.]

A: 1492 Kramden Road
[Ema's only home for coffee and a meal. Both are sitting in front of her, half touched. Her expression is distant, as if she's not really there at all.]

B: in and around 5723 Cunningham Lane
[Ema has already torn through the house once today, tearing through Klavier's belongings in order to discern whether his droning was permanent or not. There's no reason for her to return; it's not like she can simply wish him back. Logically speaking, she's done with the address for now.

And yet, she's hanging around nearby, looking up at the house and sighing heavily as she thinks things over. Occasionally, some impotent anger flares in her and she throws something at the front door. She isn't sure if she's more depressed or more angry, so she's letting herself swing wildly between the two.]

C: John Doe Park
[Ema finally settles in the park, sitting on a park bench and drinking herself stupid. She knows this is a terrible way to react--it's letting the town win, in a way--but she needs to simply sit and be miserable. Tomorrow is for bouncing back and taking action. Today is for drinking until she feels better.

Unsurprisingly, it's not working. Several bottles are scattered on the ground around her. And Ema looks like she's ready to cry. Really, she's wanted to cry all day--it's just that she's finally ready to let herself do so]
glowing_skye: (not trusting you)
[Filtered to one certain Edward Nigma.]


We need to talk. About what happened at prom and about the ridiculous amount of chocolate you left on my porch.

[Amazingly enough, she doesn't sound angry or even annoyed. Simply serious.]
glowing_skye: (not trusting you)
[So the investigation at the Smith house was a bust. Honestly, Ema's lucky to have gotten out of there injury-and-death-free.

She's more than a little frustrated with the time wasted, but no matter. She has a Major General to talk to.]

[Filtered to Olivier Armstrong.]

I hope you found more information the other night at the party than I did; I've learned more from listening on the phones than I did tearing their house apart. You weren't hurt or anything, were you?

In any case, this is me officially offering myself to your service. Just let me know what you need me to look into.
glowing_skye: (hmph)
[Filtered to Klavier and Apollo even though the latter's been permadroned.]

We're going to that "night of fun" at the Smiths.

[Judging from her tone, this is not a question.]

[Action! Ema needs to ask her not!husband a favor, even though she might regret it for all eternity...]

Schuldig, you wouldn't happen to have that gun anymore, would you? [It's not her preferred line of defense, nor is Schuldig her preferred method of procuring a weapon, but... going in unarmed just seems foolhardy, and a firearm would work better than a spray bottle of bleach.]

((ooc: Bringing Ema out of hiatus because this event is a can't-miss opportunity for her interests! :D ))
glowing_skye: (munch munch munch)
[Ema was hung over as hell the day after the Louvre Hotel event, and not without good reason. She's getting too old for that kind of drinking; four shots of tequila in rapid succession was perhaps not the wisest decision she's ever made. Still, it was totally worth it, even with the day-long headache and the vomiting that followed. The time alone with her boyfriend was very nice indeed.

Even now, she can't help but smile as she remembers it.

It's now Monday, and Ema has a package in the mail! Inside the box is the one thing that can make an already wonderful weekend even better: a bag of Snackoos. How she's missed them these past four months. Their delicious crunch, their sugary taste... she's salivating just thinking about them. Her initial instinct is to dig right in and eat the whole bag, but she hesitates. No, this bag needs to be savored, truly enjoyed. She'll just have a few, then hide the bag and go back to it once in awhile when she's really craving one. At first, she does exactly that, but then something occurs to her.

She lives with a psychic. More specifically, she lives with a psychic who's enough of an asshole to take her beloved snacks and either help himself or, worse, tamper with or destroy them somehow. She can't have that happen, so back to the original plan it is. She figures she should probably be annoyed, but she's just pleased that she has an excuse to binge like she is accustomed to doing.

Feel free to find Ema sitting on her front porch, munching happily on her regain. No, you can't have any.]
glowing_skye: (blank stare)
You awaken in a hotel.

It's a classy hotel. The sheets on the vibrating bed are satin, and an almost inviting shade of red. There is a small table at the side of the room, atop which a single flickering candle illuminates the room. Your meal has been prepared on gleaming marble plates, and there are two chairs seated at the table.

The door, should you care to test it, is locked. The walls, should you care to test them, are unbreakable. The meal, should you care to test it, is delicious. Your wardrobe appears to have been misplaced: men will find themselves wearing a tuxedo and clip-on bow tie, while women have found themselves wearing an extremely clingy dress or racy lingerie. You appear to be clutching a bouquet of roses.

There is a mini-bar. It is extremely well-stocked.

It dawns on you as you look around the room that this is, without a shadow of doubt, a hotel for lovers. A Lover's Hotel, if you will.

It also dawns on you that you are not alone.

[Ema wakes up sprawled across the bed wearing less than she's usually comfortable with. The room is equally unfamiliar, although it's quite intimate in its design. It's obviously a hotel room, and Ema groans softly. Looks like they didn't even get a choice about the discount weekend; they were spending time at the Louvre Hotel whether they wanted to or not.

It occurs to Ema that she's not alone--someone's in the bed with her. She rolls over to see who it is and breaths a sigh of relief. Her bedmate is Klavier. Even though she has no idea where she is, at least she's with someone she cares about and not some stranger... or, worse, Schuldig.

Gently, she gives him a shake.]

You awake?


Aug. 28th, 2010 03:53 pm
glowing_skye: (pout)
[Filtered to Klavier Gavin and Maes Hughes.]

So it seems like someone's starting a book club for real.

Should we continue with our plan as-is, or do we need to come up with a different kind of club?
glowing_skye: (guhhhh)
[Ema wakes up in her bedroom, which is the first indication that something's Not Right. She hasn't spent the night in this room since Schuldig arrived, and she certainly doesn't remember going to sleep in it. As a matter of fact, she struggles to remember where she fell asleep last night, which is indication number two.

Scrambling out of her bed, Ema has to dig through her dresser to find her lab coat, which was laundered and impeccably folded at some point before being placed in the bottommost drawer. Indication number three.

A sense of dread fills her as she checks the date, which confirms her fears. It is the morning of Tuesday, August 17th. The last date she remembers is August 6th, eleven days ago. Ema Skye has just come out of an extended droning.

After a scream of utter frustration, she takes to the phones.]

What have I missed?

((Guess who's back? :D Housemates are welcome to find a very distressed Ema, everyone else is welcome to greet her and explain the wonders of the new post office!))
glowing_skye: (omfg!!)
[Ema's fake husband killed a man and cut him to pieces in their garage. Obviously, Ema did not know about this as it happened.

When Ema goes into the garage the following morning, there are indications that something is amiss. The stench is the first thing that hits her; she has to cover her face with her sleeve in order to continue into the garage. There are widely distributed spots of something dried and dark on the floor that look suspiciously like dried blood. She runs back inside and grabs her luminol to test one of the spots and make sure--the test comes out positive.


Time to go ask fake husband what the hell happened in there last night.]

glowing_skye: (hmph)
[After a terrible first impression of her new fake husband, Ema gathers some belongings and immediately marches off to sit on Sniper's roof and take refuge there for awhile before continuing on to Klavier's place for the night. Based on her first interaction with him, Ema refuses to share a house with this Schuldig person, much less a bedroom. She'd rather be droned first.

At Sniper's house, she's greeted to a creepily cheery Sniper drone--still--whose hospitality she completely rebuffs. Further infuriated, she continues on to her second destination.

The familiarity of this march doesn't escape her--it's very familiar to what happened after she was struck by her drone husband two months ago. At least the drone didn't hold the potential of continued aggression and, worse, an eventual psychic ability. After the initial lashing out, the drone had been on his best behavior, possibly because of the harm he came to as a result... although Ema doubts it. She theorizes that the slap had been a glitch in the droning more than anything else, since drones are generally nonaggressive. Schuldig, on the other hand, is openly cruel. She already misses the drone.

Feel free to approach the scientist with the bruising around her throat (or in Klavier's case, have a pissed-off girlfriend banging on your door.)]

((ooc: And please forgive the spam. Multiple plots hit at the same time. ^^() ))
glowing_skye: (not trusting you)
[Filtered to Maes Hughes and Klavier Gavin.]

Mr. Hughes? Klavier and I have an idea, whenever you're ready to go forward with the Smith infiltration.

Also, have you talked to a man named Cynric? He has--or had--a very interesting article that I'm sure you'd like to see.

[Filtered from drones/Mayor/Grady/milkman/your mom]

Now that we're a week out from our glorious week of hell, how is everyone doing? Does anyone still need anything?
glowing_skye: (guhhhh)
[Ema wakes up in Mayfield. Color is back in the world, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and her drone husband seems much less severe, even kissing her forehead as he leaves for work. Life is back to normal, or at least as close to normal as possible in this place.

Or so Ema thinks. After checking in on the phones, Ema goes about her morning and realizes that things in Mayfield aren't exactly as good as she'd hoped. Over the course of the day, she will be doing the following:

1. Checking on her not!children Touma and Misaka to make sure they're all right after Soviet Mayfield. She doesn't interact with them all that much, but that doesn't mean she doesn't care about their well-being.

2. Going to find Sniper so she can sit on his roof and get a feel for the situation with him. Unfortunately, she's greeted by an obviously droned Sniper, a fact that unnerves her more than a little. She hopes that this is a temporary droning, although the sinking feeling in her stomach suggests otherwise.

3. Banging on Klavier's door. She wants to see if he's all right/intact/un-droned. She also wants someone to commiserate with and to help her feel better, although she won't directly admit it.]

((Open to people who aren't Touma, Misaka, and Klavier--feel free to approach Ema on the street as she's moving from place to place~ :) ))
glowing_skye: (hmph)
[Despite the fact that Ema's still infuriated about what was announced on the television, she is currently running around the factory and posting plans drawn up by Fran to create cow-tractor cyborgs. It's very early--the tractor lines haven't even started moving yet--and Ema's still exhausted from helping Fran herd the cattle yesterday, but she's diligently posting the plans anyhow. After all, Fran has the foreman's permission, and Ema had promised to help her.

Plus, it gives her time to think.

Feel free to approach Comrade Skye and ask what the hell she's doing. She's off to do something rash after this, so it might be your last opportunity.]


Jul. 6th, 2010 08:58 pm
glowing_skye: (pout)
Um... Mr. Glorious Party Leader person? Or that creepy Russia guy, whoever.

How am I supposed to investigate reports of subversive activity if I haven't actually received any? A little help here would be appreciated.

[No, Ema doesn't sound perturbed at all~ Whatever gives you that idea?]
glowing_skye: (guhhhh)
[The Mayfield Ema wakes up in is very different from the Mayfield in which she fell asleep. It's ridiculously early--the sun isn't even up yet--but her drone husband is already up and getting dressed. He notices that she's awake.]

доброе утро. You've overslept this morning; it's already 4:30am. You should get dressed so that you can get started with your investigations.

[Wait... what the hell?! Where did that Russian accent come from? And what does he mean by 'investigations'? Does he know what she's been up to?

Rubbing her eyes as she climbs out of bed, Ema pads over to the window and looks out at the landscape. It's nothing at all like the suburbian sight she's grown used to; this is much grayer, darker, colder. A large factory overwhelms the rest of the town, already spewing smoke into the still-dark air. It takes Ema a few minutes, but it finally clicks: She's now in the Soviet Union of the 1950s. Damn everything.

Her drone husband leaves, saying something about inspecting beets at the factory. Ema dresses, noting with disdain that her lab coat is nowhere to be found, and goes to head out herself. Just outside her door she finds a letter explaining what her assigned job is. She's an Investigator, responsible for investigating reports of subversive activity.

Ema just laughs. It's the humorless, almost-painful laugh of someone who knows she's the butt of some kind of cosmic joke but doesn't know how else to deal with it. She's not sure if this is Mayfield's way of telling her that they know what she's been up to, or if it's just their way of being jackasses about her real life back home. Either way, it stings a bit.

Once Ema gets over herself and has something to eat (beets, since that seems to be the only food she has), she heads out. At the very least, she'll be free to walk around at her leisure and see what the hell is going on.]

((tl;dr - Ema Comrade Skye wandering the streets wondering what the hell she's supposed to be investigating, since she has not received any reports of "subversive activity" as of yet. Feel free to approach her! :D ))


Jul. 4th, 2010 09:57 pm
glowing_skye: (guhhhh)
[Filtered to Klavier Gavin.]

What are your plans for today? Are you part of this whole army mobilization?
glowing_skye: (pic#)
[It is Monday, and Ema's off to meet a certain Maes Hughes. Despite the fact that she's talked to him a few times on the phone and he seems to be a nice guy, she's nervous. Her notes are scattershot at best, and what if she's actually of no help to him? She's gotten used to disappointing people over the years, so she's aware of the fact that she could very well end up disappointing this Hughes person, too.

Not that she intends to. But the possibility still leaves her a bit anxious.

After politely asking where his office was at the front desk of the legal firm, Ema makes her way to the office and knocks gently. Hopefully this isn't a bad time.]

Mr. Hughes? It's Ema Skye.


Jun. 21st, 2010 07:16 pm
glowing_skye: (anger)
To the man who oh-so-kindly told me to ☠☠☠☠ myself yesterday:

Watch your back.

[Ema's a little pissed, can't you tell?]
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