I am Mona Dempsey-Féin, Demolitions Specialist for BLU, but once an' always IRA. Not enough people are angry over the injustices in the world... so I will be angry for them.
Tiocfaidh ar la.
(( A TF2 RP blog for a BLU demowoman. ))
ooc; so uh…should I keep following people who are leaving or…?
Honestly, unless you’re like super attached to the ocs or whatnot, there’s not much reason to? It’s not exactly… fun, I guess, to see other bases, you know? Or at least it seems less productive, since it’s hard to do anything with someone at a different station.
*She finally raises her head to look at him, keep herself occupied by scratching the dog behind her ears and shakes her head.*
There’s a time for fightin’ that kind a thing… I jus’ don’t think it’s now. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been moved around, at least. Jus’ the first time I’ve felt a little less outta place.
*She stands, crossing the room to sit on the couch beside him, and places a hand over his.*
I’m glad I met you. You understand.
-She’s absolutely right. It’s not time to fight. Not now. And it would be incredibly selfish of him to anticipate that from her. There are far worse things than separation. And he is hardly a figure of significance in her life.
Logically, Isaak understands this. He does. But that doesn’t stop the tears from building up in his eyes when she takes his hand. He responds instantly, turning his palm over and grasping hers-
Do I…? -His voice is shakier than he’d like- Nobody else does…. Nobody understands like you. I vill miss you so much.
Let me do your tattoos before you go. Please? I vant to do it for free.
*A little spark of contact, a warm hand around hers, does a good deal to soothe the frustrations bubbling in her chest, and she squeezes lightly. Isaak might think he isn’t of much significance to her, but if that were true, she would pack in the night and leave without a goodbye.
It’s just hard to show how much a person can mean to her.*
I know. I’ll do whatever I can to keep in touch, okay? I… don’t have many friends; they’re hard to make for me, so… I want to hold on to the ones I have.
*The emotion in Isaak’s voice gets to her, and impulsively, she brushes a wet trail from her good eye, and she nods.*
Yeah… Yeah, I’d like that.
*She doesn’t lift her head up when she speaks.*
Fff, Pipeline. Pretty soon, too. I’m… kinda regrettin’ not comin’ around more often, now. I’m. Not good with people an’ makin’ friends, you know that very well, so… I’ll be startin’ from scratch again, an’ what are the odds I’ll meet anyone else that… that gets it. You get it. An’ that’s been more than enough for me. It’s all I’ve needed.
-He rests his chin on the top of the couch and stares at her. Isaak understands the fear of transferring quite well. In just a little more than a year he’s worked at three bases (and he wouldn’t be surprised if someday they plucked him again). It’s daunting, being forced to start over, especially once you’ve made connections. It made him feel powerless. He can only imagine how she feels now. Slowly, he drags his fingers along his scalp and takes steady breaths. But anger is coming regardless-
Zhere’s no fighting it, is zhere?
… I don’t vant to see you go. But, I know you’ll stay strong. You alvays do.
*She finally raises her head to look at him, keep herself occupied by scratching the dog behind her ears and shakes her head.*
There’s a time for fightin’ that kind a thing… I jus’ don’t think it’s now. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been moved around, at least. Jus’ the first time I’ve felt a little less outta place.
*She stands, crossing the room to sit on the couch beside him, and places a hand over his.*
I’m glad I met you. You understand.
madame-gelignite said: heh, enjoyin’ your sunday, i see. ah… yeah, probably good if i come in, if it’s all the same t’ you.
-He steps back inside and sits down on the couch, at the moment having no cause to be alarmed. He’s more focused on what a mess he’s let his room become, and he hopes she won’t acknowledge the generous bushel of vodka bottles on the floor near his bed. Pavlova trails her when she comes in like ants on candy-
What’s up?
*She takes a seat on his bed for the moment, taking the dog’s face into her hands and resting her head against Pavlova’s with a heavy sigh.*
I’m gonna miss you, you know.
-Pavlova has no sense of what’s going on, or what those sort of words mean, she’s only concerned that attention is being showered on her. But Isaak knows that was addressed to him, and he turns to look at her on his bed with a perplexed frown. His eyes finally scan the letter in her hand-
And vhere are you going?
Or perhaps I should ask, vhere are zhey sending you?
*She doesn’t lift her head up when she speaks.*
Fff, Pipeline. Pretty soon, too. I’m… kinda regrettin’ not comin’ around more often, now. I’m. Not good with people an’ makin’ friends, you know that very well, so… I’ll be startin’ from scratch again, an’ what are the odds I’ll meet anyone else that… that gets it. You get it. An’ that’s been more than enough for me. It’s all I’ve needed.
madame-gelignite said: heh, enjoyin’ your sunday, i see. ah… yeah, probably good if i come in, if it’s all the same t’ you.
-He steps back inside and sits down on the couch, at the moment having no cause to be alarmed. He’s more focused on what a mess he’s let his room become, and he hopes she won’t acknowledge the generous bushel of vodka bottles on the floor near his bed. Pavlova trails her when she comes in like ants on candy-
What’s up?
*She takes a seat on his bed for the moment, taking the dog’s face into her hands and resting her head against Pavlova’s with a heavy sigh.*
I’m gonna miss you, you know.
*She leans back and takes another hit, the smoke agreeing with her more now, or maybe it’s just the effects of THC kicking and doing its work. She grunts in acknowledgement and waves her hand back at him.*
Probably not. Though if this person’s a friend a yours, I hope things straighten out for you.
*Her head feels pleasantly light in the moment… it’s enough to worm a smile across her face. She hums as Isaak speaks, clicking her tongue when he falls quiet again.*
A boy? I’m fallin’ behind with all the new people comin’ an’ goin’, I think— but christ we don’ need more children findin’ their ways here. *snorts* Patterns a what, exactly?
I don’t disagree -The Heavy shakes his own head in displeasure at the thought- I don’t really care for zhe fact zhat he’s here. Or any of zhem around his… Mm, age -twirls his hand around as he pauses, still a bit of a habit to talk with his hands- But of course zhey don’t care.
-It goes unsaid specifically who he’s referring to since they’re both aware of it-
But while he’s here I have no issue vith fulfilling his request. Zhey are tribal symbols? Irish? I’ll have to show zhem to you vhen I’m done. I zhink it looks brilliant but—
Vell.
-Takes another hit and throws her a cheeky smile-
Zhe artist doing zhem is just so brilliant.
-As much as he appreciates an opportunity to brag he can’t ignore the more unsavory lean their conversation is taking. And with a clear wandering mind it’s encouraging his mind to consider unsavory thoughts. Fortunately, Mona is the kind of person he can express those with quite freely. He takes a moment to get comfortable though-
Hey…? Do you ever vonder vhy ve’re doing all of zhis? Two teams just killing each ozher every day? Multiple bases, hundreds of people?
It feels so.
Pointless.
*She takes another hit, finding that a lot of her ever-present— for lack of a better word— frustration tends to feel tenuous at the moment as she holds in another breathful of smoke, breathing it out slowly. She wouldn’t go so far as to say she’s a hot-headed individual, otherwise much of her ability to operate under pressure would be shot, but certainly considering this train of thought she and Isaak are taking with a very calm head is refreshing. If not a little distracting and muddling. She huffs, decides to move on from the topic of youth in war, remembering she’s never been an exception in that regard, and instead shifts to the tattoo.*
Celtic, then? The boy Gaelic or just like lookin’ at the stuff? Sounds pretty enough, if not a bit pointless, but I guess not all art has ta have a story. Either way, I wanna see your work… An’ heh, yeah gotta. Get to you on mine. I feel so busy, but it’s all really busy work ta keep my hands busy, you know?
*She props her legs up on the bed and leans back in her chair a bit, balancing it largely on the back legs, and she nods, frowning in a moment of deliberate silence.*
I do. Always have. From the moment I got inta this line an’ realised no one ever gave me a clear initiative, an’ I don’t mean “capture the intelligence” or “storm the enemy base” or any a that shit, I mean… why? What’s the intelligence? The same shit they dangle in our faces on a regular basis. I’ve mentioned it now an’ then to my old teams… Most of them never cared, they were here for pay, an’ I know that the pay is a life-saver for some a them. But ta never really stop on wonder what we’re bein’ paid ta do? I guess they an live like that. I can’t.
This is fuckin’ stupid an’ I’m wastin’ so much time here. So much fuckin’ time.
-He shouldn’t find that last statement as funny as he does. Something about her dead-pan shortness just tickles him. Which isn’t good sometimes because she’s not trying to be funny. And he’s not trying to make fun of her. But she’s endearing none the less. He offers her a few small back pats at her coughing-
I’m not sure really. I’ll be honest zhe season isn’t my favorite. I don’t really like summer eizher; alvays sweating like pig. Could just be zhat. Could be because of family.
-The Heavy’s lips thin momentarily as he considers a thought, but he doesn’t express it until he’s had another long hit-
I can’t really, mm, give details. It’s not my place to talk about. But around someone else lately I feel… zhey’re zhinking foolishly. And I can’t say it to zheir face but it’s somezhing I often zhink vhen ve’re togezher. So I just, mm, don’t say anyzhing.
I know zhat’s my problem, zhough, and I have to be getting from it. And I know I sometimes zhink I’m right vhen maybe I’m not, or is more subjective zhen I zhink.
Maybe you could start a new project. I’m doing a new tattoo! It’s, vell. Fucking art -doesn’t he look smug- I still need to do your’s too.
Hm. *she nods, though a little absently; Isaak’s chuckled over her having no effect aside from mild pleasure… while said in earnest, she’d meant it to be amusing, at least.*
Can’t say grey skies would bring much cheer, no. But… You’ve got me curious about this individual now. But I guess just avoid them until they stop bein’ stupid? If that’s feasible, at least. God knows people around here are infected with stupid and it’s hard to drop.
*She shrugs* I mean, even if you’re wrong, doesn’t change the fact that you’re… uncomfortable, I guess? Eh. I’m not good with that kind a shit though so, probably best ta ignore me.
*stretches a bit, nodding* Maybe. Just a matter of figurin’ out what I’d do, heh. But who’s this new tattoo for?
If if vas my place to say you’d know.
-He shrugs and taps his joint, leaving it at that. He’s known to be a bit of a gossip, at least he believes as much, and he also believes Mona wouldn’t disagree with that statement. But this isn’t a secret he can treat too lightly. And he’s also quite certain she doesn’t care all that much either way-
I vouldn’t describe it as stupid. Perhaps… Mm, naive. Alzhough zhey both create zhe same type of damage -He wrinkles his nose. There’s really no point to push the topic further. He’s simply complaining for the sake of it now, because he understands that nothing can be resolved around the matter. Nor is it any of his business-
It’s not important now -waves his hand- But, right. It’s for a boy on RED. I’m… really hoping he’s zhought this through -Rubs his brow, fiddling with the piercing- I never really question my customers unless zhey’re intoxicated or asking for a design I find insulting. And zhat’s rare. But he’s younger and getting a large piece.
But if he regrets it zhat’s his mistake. Sometimes learning is painful -Quite literally, he thinks bemusedly- It’s not a bad design zhough, just patterns.
*She leans back and takes another hit, the smoke agreeing with her more now, or maybe it’s just the effects of THC kicking and doing its work. She grunts in acknowledgement and waves her hand back at him.*
Probably not. Though if this person’s a friend a yours, I hope things straighten out for you.
*Her head feels pleasantly light in the moment… it’s enough to worm a smile across her face. She hums as Isaak speaks, clicking her tongue when he falls quiet again.*
A boy? I’m fallin’ behind with all the new people comin’ an’ goin’, I think— but christ we don’ need more children findin’ their ways here. *snorts* Patterns a what, exactly?
