Unlike many of the other passengers, one could easily mistake Lucy for a local, blending in seamlessly with the neon and the unrelenting metal of the city with her bodysuit and loose jacket tugged over top. Ports in her skin are easily spotted if one looks close enough, subtle line identations marking cyberware.
Still, there's a subtle uneasiness about her as she makes her way through the train. Her mask is well-worn, but her eyes give her away, a wariness in them as she examines all of her fellow passengers and the city outside the windows.
How did she get here? She remembers a portal, and a feeling of peace, and suddenly-- here she was. A city that looks a lot like her own, except magic sure as fuck didn't exist back in Night City, and she doubts it exists here, either. She'll believe it when she sees it.
Lucy finds herself stopping before a group of people guiding a hologram into visualizing a story. For a while, she lingers at the back edge of the crowd, arms folded across her chest, doing her best to go unnoticed. But curiosity over one story has her drawing closer despite herself, and as the story ends, she realizes that eyes are on her, expectant.
"I don't have any fun stories," she drawls, "unless your definition of fun includes limb removal or cyberpsychosis." Lucy tips her head, gesturing to the person next to her. "How about you. You look like you've got something decent up your sleeve."
2a. waters of seeing
It's been so long since Lucy's seen real, naturally-grown flowers that she can't help but be enchanted by the lotuses, picking one up to tuck into a button hole of her jacket.
Something about it-- makes her think of lost opportunities. A person lost to self-sacrifice. A jacket still draped over her chair back home.
(She also can't stop noticing how ridiculously attractive everybody is. Has she been dosed with something? Ugh. There's gotta be something in the air, she's not normally this... easily distracted by people.)
Lucy stops by one of the ponds outside the apartment complex they're being guided to, and crouches down, balancing on her heels as she touches a fingertip to the water. Ripples disturb bring pink petals resting on the surface, and...
She can see the moon. Its brilliant white surface as she stood on it, the deep black of the sky dotted with a riot of stars everywhere she looked, and the blue marble of Earth in the distance. And for a long time, Lucy is transfixed, until finally she pulls back, scrubbing her jacket sleeve roughly over her eyes. It only catches her attention, then, that someone is standing next to her, looking into the same pond, like they can see the same thing she's seeing. "This is why I hate reflective neuro-connections," she says shortly, dryly. "At least it's not an ad for the local burger joint being blasted in into my eyesockets, I guess."
In fact, she's reasonably sure it's not tech, but magic, and that's just a whole barrel of worms she's not ready to look into just yet.
4a. water gardens
[ if you'd like to play into the aphrodesiac effect or dancing together, f/f 20+ only please! ]
Ending up in a whole new city in a whole new time is a lot to deal with, so Lucy does what any depressed young adult does to take their mind off things: she goes to the clubs.
Her first drink is a luminous lime green concoction, brought for her by a sly demon girl with glowing yellow fangs. It's got Verve in it, she's told, and the demon girl barely gets through an explanation before Lucy's knocking it back. An hour later, and two clubs over, she doesn't know the name of the place she's in and she doesn't care. The music is pounding in her ears and sending red vibrations across her vision, voices of the crowd are curling motes of color in the air, and every single one of her muscles feels relaxed for the first time in years. Fuck, she feels good.
She winds up in deep conversations with a machine and a boy with delicate wings, discussing the merits of human-made music versus AI creations and how a lot of people seem to prefer the ease of the latter these days despite human-made being more authentic. Then, after being gifted another drink -- she hasn't had to buy any of her own, yet -- she watches the crowd from a high balcony for a while, a lone figure among a roiling crowd.
Before long, she joins the crowd again, dancing in a pleasant haze as the music feels like it wraps around her, bodies pressed in on all sides.
Lucy doesn't bump into someone so much as they seem to wind up together, her hands curled around the stranger's bicep and hip, relishing the textures under her fingertips. "Are you new here too?" she asks, just barely heard above the music, pale eyes flashing with every color the lights switch to as they sweep across the crowd.
lucy kushinada | cyberpunk: edgerunners
Unlike many of the other passengers, one could easily mistake Lucy for a local, blending in seamlessly with the neon and the unrelenting metal of the city with her bodysuit and loose jacket tugged over top. Ports in her skin are easily spotted if one looks close enough, subtle line identations marking cyberware.
Still, there's a subtle uneasiness about her as she makes her way through the train. Her mask is well-worn, but her eyes give her away, a wariness in them as she examines all of her fellow passengers and the city outside the windows.
How did she get here? She remembers a portal, and a feeling of peace, and suddenly-- here she was. A city that looks a lot like her own, except magic sure as fuck didn't exist back in Night City, and she doubts it exists here, either. She'll believe it when she sees it.
Lucy finds herself stopping before a group of people guiding a hologram into visualizing a story. For a while, she lingers at the back edge of the crowd, arms folded across her chest, doing her best to go unnoticed. But curiosity over one story has her drawing closer despite herself, and as the story ends, she realizes that eyes are on her, expectant.
"I don't have any fun stories," she drawls, "unless your definition of fun includes limb removal or cyberpsychosis." Lucy tips her head, gesturing to the person next to her. "How about you. You look like you've got something decent up your sleeve."
It's been so long since Lucy's seen real, naturally-grown flowers that she can't help but be enchanted by the lotuses, picking one up to tuck into a button hole of her jacket.
Something about it-- makes her think of lost opportunities. A person lost to self-sacrifice. A jacket still draped over her chair back home.
(She also can't stop noticing how ridiculously attractive everybody is. Has she been dosed with something? Ugh. There's gotta be something in the air, she's not normally this... easily distracted by people.)
Lucy stops by one of the ponds outside the apartment complex they're being guided to, and crouches down, balancing on her heels as she touches a fingertip to the water. Ripples disturb bring pink petals resting on the surface, and...
She can see the moon. Its brilliant white surface as she stood on it, the deep black of the sky dotted with a riot of stars everywhere she looked, and the blue marble of Earth in the distance. And for a long time, Lucy is transfixed, until finally she pulls back, scrubbing her jacket sleeve roughly over her eyes. It only catches her attention, then, that someone is standing next to her, looking into the same pond, like they can see the same thing she's seeing. "This is why I hate reflective neuro-connections," she says shortly, dryly. "At least it's not an ad for the local burger joint being blasted in into my eyesockets, I guess."
In fact, she's reasonably sure it's not tech, but magic, and that's just a whole barrel of worms she's not ready to look into just yet.
Ending up in a whole new city in a whole new time is a lot to deal with, so Lucy does what any depressed young adult does to take their mind off things: she goes to the clubs.
Her first drink is a luminous lime green concoction, brought for her by a sly demon girl with glowing yellow fangs. It's got Verve in it, she's told, and the demon girl barely gets through an explanation before Lucy's knocking it back. An hour later, and two clubs over, she doesn't know the name of the place she's in and she doesn't care. The music is pounding in her ears and sending red vibrations across her vision, voices of the crowd are curling motes of color in the air, and every single one of her muscles feels relaxed for the first time in years. Fuck, she feels good.
She winds up in deep conversations with a machine and a boy with delicate wings, discussing the merits of human-made music versus AI creations and how a lot of people seem to prefer the ease of the latter these days despite human-made being more authentic. Then, after being gifted another drink -- she hasn't had to buy any of her own, yet -- she watches the crowd from a high balcony for a while, a lone figure among a roiling crowd.
Before long, she joins the crowd again, dancing in a pleasant haze as the music feels like it wraps around her, bodies pressed in on all sides.
Lucy doesn't bump into someone so much as they seem to wind up together, her hands curled around the stranger's bicep and hip, relishing the textures under her fingertips. "Are you new here too?" she asks, just barely heard above the music, pale eyes flashing with every color the lights switch to as they sweep across the crowd.