[attr="class","pipefont"]

---

Of course Henry caught ahead of her, Corsen isn't exactly the fastest of individuals on the best of days, and from her perspective, the last few hours of her life have just been walking, something her body isn't entirely built for if the sickly white pallor of her skin and the visibility of her veins is anything to go off of. Still, both she and Henry have kept ahead of their final ally, and it's checking over her shoulder to find him deregistered from the party that has her missing the initial attack. She would've bumped into Henry's back where he not getting choke-slammed against a building.

[break][break]

Shockingly enough, it's not the sight of the presumably dead woman that gives Corsen pause for as long as it does, it's merely the sights around her. It's one thing to, what, teleport? It's another to see something out of a genre-confused video game leap at someone, to see that same someone destroy the brick and metal behind them with a rippling touch, to see someone else suddenly appear and throw a coin that seems to have all the impact of a star wrestler's punch. She could swear she hears a crack of ribs from the neo-imp.

[break][break]

Which would be more concerning, if this small girl, still half-deaf thanks to her headphones, ran in suddenly screaming bloody murder, or if she rushed in with the same level of idle disinterest she had offered everyone and everything else she'd met in the last few minutes? Whatever the answer might be, the latter is what happens, Corsen's pipe scrapping across the ground as she runs up on the monster.

[break][break]

This is a mook. The small-fry of the first wave of a multi-enemy event. It can't take that many hits. Even so, a fair bit of luck plays into Corsen landing her blow. For whatever reason, she thinks to jump. She's not a video game character, she's a person and she's maybe jumped precisely once in her life.

[break][break]

But when a coward and a scavenger feels cornered, it will take to the air. Her weight pulls her down into a crumbled pile, but Corsen gets a good swing through the air, the crook of her pipe catching the gatcha hellspawn right between the eyes and slamming it back into the ground with her.

[break][break]

She rolls, not very well mind you, and ends up hitting herself in the leg with her pipe as she comes back up in a position that could only generously be called standing. At first, it appears that she's worse off for the attack than the neo-imp is, especially since it still seems to be moving for just a moment. On closer inspection, however, the metal attachments that make the monster so sleek and deadly have taken some of the rust from Corsen's pipe, leaving it [RUSTED], and the decay sees no reason not to ride the sheen of chrome down to the tawny red of devil flesh, confirming the creature's demise.

[break][break]

Her life not in immediate danger, Corsen opts to just slump back onto the ground for a moment, glancing about for where her headphones launched off during her 3-inch aerial assault. "Corsen," she mutters in the worst possible approximation of an introduction to the new guy, well, and to Henry.

[break][break]

[break]
Corsen Russell

Application[break]
Inventory[break][break]

[attr="class","pipefont"]

---

It's definitely a bit odd how stationary Corsen remains even as she's bombarded with pleasant little questions and Summer approaches her. The only movement, at first, is in her eyes, following the girl as best she can despite the glare of the sun overhead. It makes it very hard to tell if she's planning to take a swing or not...

[break][break]

Luckily, she doesn't, but trying to figure out why she didn't still remains a mystery. Of course, a large part of it is just the numbers aren't in her favor and it would be a waste of energy even if she did win, but her stoic expression betrays none of that. With an awkward amount of delay, she takes the offered glasses, the plastic legs of the novely glasses warping a bit under her touch, some of the coloration peeling off like paint as the heart-shape of the lenses deflates a bit.

[break][break]

Stained now with the same dusty red decay of her pipe, Corsen puts the glasses on. The world is certainly pink now, but it is a touch better. The glasses will probably fix themselves when Corsen gives them back. A glance to the window she broke reveals that the rusty little imprint that originally cracked it has faded as Corsen stepped away, so it seems to be her presence that maintains it to some degree.

[break][break]

She answers Summer with a shrug, mumbling something alone the lines of, "Not long, too bright and hectic," with her scratchy little voice. Then, looking to Hana, she brings her pipe around to reach into her bag and pull out a little granola bar. A line peels off of it to spawn a little text box in the air, denoting it for all to see as a [GRANOLA BAR] along with an associated monetary value and a little description that offers an estimation of how filling the snack is. She tilts her head, obviously thinking the pop-up is what Hana meant, not realize that she can non-physically store the item somewhere.

[break][break]

[break]
Corsen Russell

Application[break]
Inventory[break][break]

[attr="class","pipefont"]

---

Corsen hadn't exactly been eager about taking a trip across the ocean again but having heard the Seoul was one of the least changed areas of the brave new world, well, she had to take her chances. Nominally, she was looking for things like food, extra sunscreen, and some entertainment of course. Some games for her 3DS or maybe a CD player to pair with her MP3 player and use as a speaker.

[break][break]

These things were probably entirely possible to find in LA, and they'd even be affordable enough with the haul Corsen brought in with her tutorial alone as someone she'd met had made her realize, but she was a scrapper by nature. If she let herself slip into the comfort of easily meeting her needs it would lead to her isolation one way or another. And, ironically enough to that desire, LA was far too crowded for her. She preferred the empty and foreign yet reminiscent streets of Seoul at the moment.

[break][break]

The empty café was a reprieve from the sun blazing overhead. Corsen had needed to change her outfit since her last one was getting a bit muggy, wearing the white button-up and the long skirt that would be reminiscent of a private school outfit. She disliked the long skirt, but at least it covered her legs, and frequent breaks in shaded, abandoned buildings gave her the time to reapply sunscreen and wander without much trouble.

[break][break]

So of course her little sanctuary would be intruded on. The taller girls both seemed preppy and sweet, which was already setting off all kinds of warning bells, but they seemed nicely dressed too and lackadaisy, signs Corsen has quickly picked up to be representative of good gear and levels.

[break][break]

She takes a careful step towards the big store window of the café, thinking she might spy on the girls for a moment, do a bit of threat assessment. Unfortunately, her grip on her rusty iron pipe she lugs around in one hand tightens out of instinct and a little line of rust runs along the interior of the window, setting a long crack in it that makes her presence more than obvious.

[break][break]

Well, let's hope they weren't looking for a fight.

[break][break]

[break]
Corsen Russell

Application[break]
Inventory[break][break]

[attr="class","pipefont"]

---

The small and pale girl's lips flatten into a line of distaste at Koyu's appearance and rather overly-friendly greeting. She doesn't even bother taking her headphones off, but she does find the energy to at least lower the volume of her music on a third individual's approach. She hated how much she had to look up at the both of them.

[break][break]

Hearing the man with monochrome hair reference the same mission just moments after the brunette was poking into her business, Corsen turns back to the little screen she has. Hairline cracks and a bit of red dust spiderweb across the screen as she pokes at it, looking for any amount of settings that she can. Sure enough, she seems to be in an [ACTIVE PARTY] with these two.

[break][break]

Hopefully that doesn't make them the court of her betters, one seems much too excited and the other... Well, that's probably the proper amount of morose for a man walking out a bar.

[break][break]

It's odd to be someplace where people didn't already know her name and treat her like an assignment. How were you even supposed to introduce yourself again? Luckily, she's saved the embarrassment of figuring out again as a cry for help rings out in the distance, cutting through the din of advertisements that clutters the night sky with neon.

[break][break]

Did everyone here have a class? Were some of them just false-people generated by the system? God, no, Corsen stops herself before she can give herself a headache thinking about logistics and the morality of potential NPCs. She has plenty to worry about dealing with herself. Like completing this objective, and it sounds to her that an enemy has just loudly announced where it is with the help of some participant.

[break][break]

Pulling her plastic bag of an inventory off her pipe and stuffing it into her hoodie pocket, Corsen lets her pipe clang against the ground as she holds it with both hands, looking ready to swing it up at whatever gets in her way at a moment's notice. "Seems like," are the only words of reply she offers both boys, her voice as scratchy from disuse as it is small.

[break][break]

And she starts moving forward. She's not very keen on whatever risk comes with timing out.

[break][break]

[break]
Corsen Russell

Application[break]
Inventory[break][break]

[attr="class","pipefont"]

---

Its true that Corsen does look a touch lost, but she looks a little less lost than she did just earlier. For a girl that had barely staked out a few neighborhoods around where she lived before all of this, suddenly jumping from one city to the next was massively disorienting. She had spent a good thirty minutes simply wandering around where the waystone had deemed to deposit her.

[break][break]

Now, however, she's parked herself on a set of wooden stairs that terminates a steep road leading up the path to Mt Washington, bridging it and some other dead-end street that probably has a different name now than it did once before. She would've loved to find some store front or what-have-you to station herself in and enjoy modern air conditioning, but the thought of the number of people that would force her into proximity with generates more dread than her black hoodie does discomfort in the LA heat.

[break][break]

She's propped herself up against a small stone wall, the kind that guards a street from greenery, to seek defense in the shade. There's a large metal pipe sat between her legs, adorned in a concerning amount of rust, and sat atop it is a plastic bag, held together with duct tape and spite.

[break][break]

The top of the bag is open, making the contents visible, especially considering the system has popped up a little text box to denote her inventory. None of it is marked as anything of any real worth, save the shitty, beat-up pipe, funnily enough. She has spare clothes, the remnants of snack food wrappers, a 3DS along with its charger and a few games, and a few bottles of pills, sunscreen, and water.

[break][break]

First her medicine. The memory of the action is ingrained in her muscles, to the point that it might be grounding in this time of chaos were it not a reminder of how broken she is. She turns her grim attention next to the exposed, pale, skin of her legs. They look less frail, given how much she walked to school and back, and the power boost from her class certainly helped...

[break][break]

Still, they certainly don't look healthy, signs of lingering disuses only exacerbating the way her legs shake, even when sitting still. With a little huff, a rare show of emotion on her grim expression, she dashes her little inventory screens, red dust and degradation trailing across her fingers on the menus and hastening their retreat. Now, unbothered by the glare of screens, she takes to applying sunscreen. A generous portion for her shoulders, in case her hoodie should fall aside, a thumb of it over her nose, cheeks, forehead, the majority for her legs.

[break][break]

Perhaps she should just buy pants... But, food will be a priority, as soon as she figures out where she might solve that issue.

[break][break]

[break]
Corsen Russell

Application[break]
Inventory[break][break]