Give me any two fictional characters and I’ll tell you which I’d rather date.
DO IT.
plsz
lombacks started following you
“If you ever did operations in Southern Africa, I’m certain I’ve met an agent of your division. Pliio Atkins, Lieutenant for the African Union, South African 113th Anti-Crime corps.”
Send me a ‘★’ and I will tell you how my character feels about yours
tricellbitch replied to your post: OOC: Minor Rant
Wait, but doesn’t Uganda want to set up a law to kill homosexuals if theyre openly gay or s/thing. im not disagreeing im jw, because I don’t see how gay marriage couldve gotten through with people like that around
Yes. Uganda does. Most of Northern/Central Africa does. And smaller, more tribal-based nations, like Lesotho.
There is some heavy progression in some African Nations. South Africa is probably the biggest example.
OOC: Minor Rant
You know what I don’t get? when people say that African countries have “simple societies.”
I think you have to owe it alot to an African country to host nearly 50 different indigenous languages, over 100 ethnic groups, and still accept gay marriage before America while having an 80% Christian majority AND be one of the fastest growing, most stable economies in the world.
That doesn’t make a society simple. That makes a society complex as hell.
The problem with getting Africa out of it’s current state isn’t because the people there are simple bangs-rocks-together-for-science people. It’s the because the problems there are fucking complex. Really complex.
If the problem was Africa was as simple as people think it is, the problem would be fixed by now.
This is not fucking hard to understand.
i don’t understand what happened
Ciril paused in her task of placing a straw into her drink, stopping to stare at Pliio for a moment before throwing back her head, hysterical laughter coming from inside her helmet. Her laughter continued a good while before it finally tapered off.
“Oh…I haven’t-haven’t laughed like that in a good while, my friend.” she said breathlessly, clutching at her sore sides. She took a moment to catch her breath. “Those are batarians, natives of the planet Khar’shan. You won’t find a more unlikable bunch of bastards. A lot of the ones you tend to find out in space are pirates, or worse slavers.” She spat out the last word like it was something distasteful.
“When I was on Pilgrimage…I stayed on a human colony that was pretty close to batarian airspace. Slavers attacked one day and I helped the colonists fight them off. I happened to be helping this school fix an air conditioning unit when it happened… Bastards thought they could take kids, I showed them…” She set her arm on the table, bringing up her hand to rest her head against it, “The first person I ever killed was a batarian…with a particularly good pair of scissors.”
“A human beer might be something good to start out with…” she offered. ”Or from what I’ve been told some asari drinks taste kind of fruity…”
“I like fruity,” He stated randomly, throwing up his hand and calling out, asking for one. Following, his ears plastered against the head- he was unsure if what he just did was normal or customary. He didn’t quite like being foreign.
“First person I killed,” He started off, leaning in towards the Quarian, “His name was ‘|Xbussie Mbdola.’ An odd African name- and definitely a charmer. Shortly after I joined the African Union I was set on the task with my group to take car of a small band of Red Sand smugglers. We infiltrated- got ambushed. He came up from behind me and I had to wrestle him a bit. I started to pummel him up. I was- am- strong, and it wasn’t that much of a fight. If he grappled me, I bit a chunk out of his arm. If I got a clear shot at his face- I’d slash. I think I sliced one of his eyes during the ordeal. After a long time I managed to get him on the ground and I brought my boot down on his head. There was the sickening crack…” He paused for a moment. “And after that, Mr. Mbdola was no more.”
“Not as much of a valor as yours. Not very dramatic. It felt like I murdered him. I was fifteen years old…”
“You were fighting for your life. It wasn’t murder.” She made an impressed noise as she took a quick sip of her whiskey. ”Fifteen? Seriously? I was…mmmmm, nineteen I think. Perhaps we could spar sometime? Could be interesting.”
As Roshan brought Pliio his drink a thought struck her. ”Do you…do you not know what any species here is called?”
“fifteen.” He nodded for confirmation. “As a Lombax, I was probably as mature sexually as a male Quarian would be at twenty. And I’m no certain how I feel about sparring. Most of the things on my body are built to cause damage. Fangs, claws… don’t even get my started on the claws my feet have. They’re just plain deadly.” He smiled and pointed to the bartender, taking a sip of his drink before answering, “Salarian.” He pointed to a Turian on the dance floor. “Thing like a bird? Turian.” He pointed to himself, saying, “Lombax,” before switching his finger to Ciril’Shan. “Not a Lombax.” He smiled, his red eyes gleaming as he gulped down a portion of his drink.”
Ciril paused in her task of placing a straw into her drink, stopping to stare at Pliio for a moment before throwing back her head, hysterical laughter coming from inside her helmet. Her laughter continued a good while before it finally tapered off.
“Oh…I haven’t-haven’t laughed like that in a good while, my friend.” she said breathlessly, clutching at her sore sides. She took a moment to catch her breath. “Those are batarians, natives of the planet Khar’shan. You won’t find a more unlikable bunch of bastards. A lot of the ones you tend to find out in space are pirates, or worse slavers.” She spat out the last word like it was something distasteful.
“When I was on Pilgrimage…I stayed on a human colony that was pretty close to batarian airspace. Slavers attacked one day and I helped the colonists fight them off. I happened to be helping this school fix an air conditioning unit when it happened… Bastards thought they could take kids, I showed them…” She set her arm on the table, bringing up her hand to rest her head against it, “The first person I ever killed was a batarian…with a particularly good pair of scissors.”
“A human beer might be something good to start out with…” she offered. ”Or from what I’ve been told some asari drinks taste kind of fruity…”
“I like fruity,” He stated randomly, throwing up his hand and calling out, asking for one. Following, his ears plastered against the head- he was unsure if what he just did was normal or customary. He didn’t quite like being foreign.
“First person I killed,” He started off, leaning in towards the Quarian, “His name was ‘|Xbussie Mbdola.’ An odd African name- and definitely a charmer. Shortly after I joined the African Union I was set on the task with my group to take car of a small band of Red Sand smugglers. We infiltrated- got ambushed. He came up from behind me and I had to wrestle him a bit. I started to pummel him up. I was- am- strong, and it wasn’t that much of a fight. If he grappled me, I bit a chunk out of his arm. If I got a clear shot at his face- I’d slash. I think I sliced one of his eyes during the ordeal. After a long time I managed to get him on the ground and I brought my boot down on his head. There was the sickening crack…” He paused for a moment. “And after that, Mr. Mbdola was no more.”
“Not as much of a valor as yours. Not very dramatic. It felt like I murdered him. I was fifteen years old…”
“I never drank alcohol because I was afraid my body would metabolize it differently. I’m certain it’d take much more than the average few drinks to get me drunk- or even buzzed.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I’m new to anything out in space for the most part- care to lead the way?”
Purgatory; the place where every race in the galaxy came to dance and drink their cares away. Walking into this place it almost seemed like there was business as usual with the music blaring and the alcohol flowing. Ciril could even see a good number of people who were well on their way to being inebriated and it was still fairly early. But she didn’t blame them; there were plenty these days who thought they could drive away their problems one glass at a time, herself included…at times.
Carefully weaving through the crowds, Ciril was careful to keep a hand clutched around Pliio’s wrist to keep them from getting separated. She’d noticed a group of turians giving him the once over as they walked in. And it wasn’t that she doubted his ability to defend himself, but she recognized a couple of them…and needless to say, they were tough customers.
Leading them down to the lower bar, she waved down the salarian bartender.
“Ah Lieutenant,” the red tinted salarian greeted. “Back again? I suppose you’ll be having whiskey as usual?”
“Roshan…you can’t believe how much it amazes me how you can remember who I am and what I drink with all the people that pass through here,” Ciril said, grin obvious through her tone of voice.
“Well, it isn’t every day I see a group of quarian marines clear out a bunch of drunken batarians. You made yourself quite memorable, lieutenant.” Roshan nodded his head towards the bar by the dance floor, “They’re here, so you know.”
The quarian resisted the urge to beat her head against the bar. “Great… Hopefully they don’t remember much of that night… Because we passed a couple of turians that I’m also…acquainted with… But yeah I’ll take that whiskey. I’ll also be buying for my friend here.” She sat on one of the stools and patted the one next to her, gesturing for Pliio to sit.
Roshan, being a smart salarian as most of them are, made no comment about Pliio and went to work getting Ciril her drink.
The sights and sounds of the bar overwhelmed Pliio, the lombax trying futilely to cup his ears to drown out the noise. He breathed deep below his normal level, sniffing the air and taking in the scent of a myriad groups of patrons- possibly even some neer-do-wells whilst noting Ciril’Shan’s reaction to the Turians. His pupils dilated the more he saw- all the kinds of creatures he had never encountered before. To see all of these species together was astounding to him. He was only used to humans entirely- or when he was younger, groups of Lombaxes on their homeworld. Unused to the customs, he slipped up onto a stool near his new friend- smiling wide, giving a view of his fangs to surrounding drunkards and inebriates. To Ciril he leaned close, and asked, “Ciril- What are the guys with the four eyes?” He nodded his chin to the group of Batarians. “They smell like shit.” He chuckled, turning to the Salarian inside the bar. “I’m not sure what to order…”
