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Wasteland || Open - Printable Version

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Wasteland || Open - Kat - 03-26-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/D01nHYr.png" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]The stranger was correct.

Caldo didn't fit into what images flooded her mind regarding Oasis dwellers. Theirs were a less hardy sort, adorned in clean linens that covered little. Unmarred flesh. Beautiful, timeless faces that aged without the worries of the sands. Bajazet only crossed through the Oasis when there were goods they wished to acquire, but even those ventures were limited; those of the Oasis produced much of their own means. When he removed his mask, it was enough to ensure he wouldn't find a place with the well-to-do's camped around the pristine waters of Sierra.

Bajazet's stomach had been through enough at this point to see beyond the ailments. Not that she didn't stare; surely that was expected. She just didn't shy away from the sight. No flinching. Instead, dark orbs lingered on his lips and the damage, the hole in his cheek. Even, for a time, they processed his lack of hair as though unsure just where it all could have gone. Leprosy wasn't a commonplace occurrence within the caravan, but those who contracted it didn't receive sympathy from their fellow travelers. Tribes all dealt with disfigurement differently, and the bartering ones factored it into a loss of business. Buyers didn't want merchants with half their face deteriorated into a mask of grotesque sickness.

Of course, they hardly tolerated her kind either, but for entirely different reasons. Archaic standards of skin color, mixed with a fear of the unknown. Cultures like Bajazet's were a dying breed. "<font color="e6b519]Just eat. We shall see if there is threat.[/font]"

Rising, the shadow of a woman slipped passed the fire light, closer to the darkness that engulfed much of the campsite. There was no way to entirely protect the perimeter, but the Walkers had done a very good job trying. Years of stalking, of seeking the sounds no one else was willing to meet head on, it all came naturally to Bajazet. This instant was a tamer one, just a singular biker the other Walkers had sent warning of. Had they come with more numbers, the woman would be concerned. Not visibly, but below the surface of her rigidity. Rare was there a time anything openly unnerved her.

A stone's throw from the firelight, the stick continued tapping lightly in time with her steps, Bajazet stopped before the questioning youth. They were not alone by any means, but they were distanced enough to ensure the biker could flee if they became overwhelmed. Bajazet would grant that much hospitality. "<font color="e6b519]Nothing is free[/font]." Edging the stalk of wood into dirt to give her arm a rest, the propped weapon loomed over their conversation. "<font color="e6b519]You come and ask for aid, you must have something to give. What do you offer?[/font]"

Wasteland || Open - tsunderebanchou - 03-29-2015

[size=small]<img style="Kenji" style="max-width:50%;float:left;" src="http://i741.photobucket.com/albums/xx53/VampyrHeart/Kenji_zps3cf30e58.jpg]Kenji's gang was famous for offering protection to passing caravans around that area, but looking at Bajazet, this caravan needed no protection, to tell the truth, he didn't expect to see a walker when he heard there was another caravan passing by. 
For a moment he even wondered if her caravan needed anything at all from him and his gang, they didn't seem like the people who needed anything fixed, or any protection for all that mattered, these people were one with the desert around them, he admired them, and sometimes he wished he was born in one of their caravans instead of the rough gang he was part of. He probably wouldn't be as flamboyant and reckless as he was now, but his life would have probably had more meaning.

The scout could see the mix of admiration and respect in his bloodshot eyes, mixed with a feeling of helplessness which looked so contradicting to his otherwise full if himself attitude. A long silence followed, then he seemed to have gotten back from another world <font color="#d86161]“I suppose a strong and respectable caravan like yours wouldn't need protection from a humble gang like ours, or any mechanical or electrical maintenance.”[/font] Calling his gang humble was an understatement, she probably knew what gang he was part of just by looking at him, the 'Crazy Diamonds' may not have been the largest gang, but they were one the strongest and certainly the most flamboyant.

He stared emptily at her some more, cracked his neck and looked back at his bike.  <font color="#d86161]“I have a tank full of fuel, you can have most of it... If you even need that.”[/font] He had just realized he had nothing to offer her, it wasn't at all what he expected. Things were going awry for him and he was now thinking about the safest way to retreat without causing any trouble, he should have waited for his gang to come back with provisions at night and not have done any rash things, but that's how he always was.

At this moment, he got distracted by something else, Cauldo's mask, he knew what it was and he knew it wasn't working, but now most of his attention was shifted to it.  <font color="#d86161]“That's a pretty cool mask, it's a shame it's not working well. I can fix that for you.” [/font] He wasn't really sure what made him say that, but before he noticed he had already said it. He smiled sheepishly at them and said nothing else. Bajazet could tell he was under the influence of alcohol or some other type of substance, especially when his stance started to look less alert and more slouchy, it was like he couldn't really stand anymore.[/font]


Wasteland || Open - Kat - 05-19-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/D01nHYr.png" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Bajazet was a woman with thick skin, and a strain of stubbornness that only reared it's head when the time was least opportune. The world needed more women capable of carrying out acts based on steeled resolve. This was her opinion, at least. If nothing else, she did her part in all the ways she was capable of, minus any peace breaching methods that might effect the camp adversely. It wasn't like she intended to stay in this caravan for the rest of her life, but it would do her a great deal of good to not be left without a home so abruptly. So, in this vein of thoughts, the ebony femme blinked dark lashes through the veil of dusk, and exhaled with a snort. "<font color="e6ad19]Protection? What would we need protection from?[/font]" The question was a delicate one, thrown to the stranger to ensure they chose wisely, as the wrong answer might be enough provocation to set Bajazet off.

First came the leper, then came the biker. She could only muse over what followed this ragtag pair. A clown? A pirate? A stripper? <font color="e6ad19]"Did you come armed, boy?"[/font] Bajazet dug her staff into the dirt again, dragging free loose grains of sand in a lethargic sweep near bare feet. <font color="e6ad19]"Even if you did, you are in no state to imply this caravan needs help. So, your fuel offer may stand, but you would be wise to use caution towards those who you speak to. Few are as tolerant as I am."[/font] A pause was made, full of assessments and judgement that may eventually come to light. In her way, the tribeswoman could be just as much a mystery as their desert landscape; a questioning scout who carried the burdens of those under their care. It bled through her persona in smudges of expression, foreshadowing what her own intentions to this interrogating line of questions may have been.
<font color="e6ad19]
"Are you high right now?[/font]" This didn't needed to padded. Bajazet needed to know so not to underestimate the youth. If he was under the influence of something, it was well within the scout's rights to ask. <font color="e6ad19]"If you wish to stay, you will need to be clean. That... Taint on your person isn't welcome. You, perhaps, are. But there will be no drugs in this caravan-- No exception will be made. I will not play host to a liability."[/font]