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Second Opinion
Dec. 8th, 2012 04:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
golemeffect((Well, I wrote this last night on a wim and it feels more like a RP intro than a story, so. May as well put it up somewhere! No one has to take the bait on this if they dont want to. I'll RP with ya if you do, however-even people who dont know GW2 stuff. It can just be a weird AU or something.
But yeah, set a handful of years before GW2 game.))
The extent of her anxiety was so vast that if she were to attempt to quantify it, she would need to invent a whole new means of measurement. She felt as if she had run from one end of Asura Territory to the other and back again for this-which was almost true. In actuality she had intentionally avoided a few key locations due to the high concentration of Inquest. After all, if they caught wind that she was asking around-out of krewe color no less-for an outsider to overlook the blueprints for an invention she had not brought to the Meta-Krewe’s attention… Well.
She could come clean to her superiors, which best case scenario would mean good bye personal patient on (theoretically) functional Transatmospheric Converter. Worst case scenario would be the same result as if she were to continue to withhold information after discovery of her rogue behavior: termination of the deadly variety, and/or forced volunteer work as the subject of experimentation.
Anyway about it, being ousted was not a desirable option.
Rosids wrung the panel-excuse me, currently sealed holographic projectscroll-in her hands. It was beginning to grow dark. The violet illumination of the portal that lead back to Rata Sum and the artificial torch-lights began to take presence in the first shadows that would become night. The sun slowly sank beneath the waves of the ocean, subtly obscured by the ships docked in port and the cargo strewed about. In any other scenario, she may have found the sight peaceful, but with the way things were now, her attention was strictly on the passing faces of sailors and dockworkers. Not to mention, the humid, briny air was making her hair frizz.
She wasn’t sure why her contact had chosen Rata Sum’s port as their meeting place, but she wasn’t really in a position to complain. She was fortunate enough that he was willing to even offer giving her work a passing glance. All before this, she had received nothing but rejection or redirection. In fact, she had only gotten referred to this “Jinul” character by a long, tedious chain of redirection. People citing disinterest in her project, or no time in their schedule, or recognizing her as inquest and being unwilling to associate with her… The excuses were near-endless.
Yet eventually she had been pointed to Jinul by what was apparently one of his college collogues, claiming Jinul to be an Elementalist (which was exactly what she nee-required) as well as being “Rash and unconcerned about public opinion enough to not bother with a simple background check.”
Call her mad (though she advised against it if one preferred one’s ears where they were presently situated) but she had the suspicion that they weren’t particularly fond of this “Jinul”. None the less, they seem to have been correct in Jinul’s nature. After a few exchanges of carrier pigeons with messages entailing the most basic, non-offensive aspects of her plight, here she was, waiting for first contact.
…Bah, with her fortune she was waiting for some kind of trap in her desperation.
But yeah, set a handful of years before GW2 game.))
The extent of her anxiety was so vast that if she were to attempt to quantify it, she would need to invent a whole new means of measurement. She felt as if she had run from one end of Asura Territory to the other and back again for this-which was almost true. In actuality she had intentionally avoided a few key locations due to the high concentration of Inquest. After all, if they caught wind that she was asking around-out of krewe color no less-for an outsider to overlook the blueprints for an invention she had not brought to the Meta-Krewe’s attention… Well.
She could come clean to her superiors, which best case scenario would mean good bye personal patient on (theoretically) functional Transatmospheric Converter. Worst case scenario would be the same result as if she were to continue to withhold information after discovery of her rogue behavior: termination of the deadly variety, and/or forced volunteer work as the subject of experimentation.
Anyway about it, being ousted was not a desirable option.
Rosids wrung the panel-excuse me, currently sealed holographic projectscroll-in her hands. It was beginning to grow dark. The violet illumination of the portal that lead back to Rata Sum and the artificial torch-lights began to take presence in the first shadows that would become night. The sun slowly sank beneath the waves of the ocean, subtly obscured by the ships docked in port and the cargo strewed about. In any other scenario, she may have found the sight peaceful, but with the way things were now, her attention was strictly on the passing faces of sailors and dockworkers. Not to mention, the humid, briny air was making her hair frizz.
She wasn’t sure why her contact had chosen Rata Sum’s port as their meeting place, but she wasn’t really in a position to complain. She was fortunate enough that he was willing to even offer giving her work a passing glance. All before this, she had received nothing but rejection or redirection. In fact, she had only gotten referred to this “Jinul” character by a long, tedious chain of redirection. People citing disinterest in her project, or no time in their schedule, or recognizing her as inquest and being unwilling to associate with her… The excuses were near-endless.
Yet eventually she had been pointed to Jinul by what was apparently one of his college collogues, claiming Jinul to be an Elementalist (which was exactly what she nee-required) as well as being “Rash and unconcerned about public opinion enough to not bother with a simple background check.”
Call her mad (though she advised against it if one preferred one’s ears where they were presently situated) but she had the suspicion that they weren’t particularly fond of this “Jinul”. None the less, they seem to have been correct in Jinul’s nature. After a few exchanges of carrier pigeons with messages entailing the most basic, non-offensive aspects of her plight, here she was, waiting for first contact.
…Bah, with her fortune she was waiting for some kind of trap in her desperation.
