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NEAR MISS/CLOSE CALL MEME

Ever been in a life-and-death situation? No? Maybe you will be now. Something is happening, something horrible, and you're about to die. Maybe someone you love is about to die. Or someone you hate. Maybe you're the danger itself. Either way, you (or your prey) get out by the skin of your (their) teeth. How close was it really? Is someone in deep shit? Alternatively, this can be used for something else: regular life situations. Miss someone at the dance you want to see, can't catch that criminal you need to put away, whatever. The world is your oyster!

• Top level your character. Include any details you might think are relevant. Or don't. As always, we're not the cops.
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It's a nice day out. Bright, not too hot, no rain. It's been a series of nice days for about a week and a half - nothing's soggy from previous rain, nothing's too dried out from a lack of it either. There's even a breeze and some wildflowers in the fields peppered around. Things have been going well overall on this trip - a slow but steady replenishing of supplies. Never a lot at once, but enough to merit continuing on. They've found a real small blip of a town in the middle of nowhere - more a grouping of buildings and a few houses than anything - that seemed promising. Not even many dead hanging around.

Yeah, about that.

Paul is currently perched on the flat roof of a corner liquor store, standing near the edge with a hand on his hip as he looks down at the group of walkers vying to get at him. His other hand is being used to quietly count out how many are down there, figuring out what they're dealing with here. It'd taken some crazy acrobatics to get up here in time, but at least that's not too difficult.

Anyway it looks like at least a couple dozen down there. They have bullets but not that many, which puts a damper on things.

"At least the weather's nice," he says at length, looking over his shoulder to wherever Daryl is prowling to take in the details of their situation from other angles. Or seeing if he's done with that part already.

Crazy acrobatics for Paul, hauling himself bodily for Daryl. He'll never be the artist the other man is, even if they've had plenty of illuminating afternoons going over the logistics of the perfect KO punch, but he gets around just fine in his own wily way.

"Better be," he deadpans. "Gonna be up here a while. 'Bout fifty more creeping outta the tree line. If we were gonna run it'd have to be an hour ago."

It'd be a waste of bullets and entirely too risky to try and fight their way through. Best to lay low and play dead, and just hope they don't press too hard and cave the liquor store in - which is a distinct possibility for a structure this old and weathered.

( near as he can tell, just about every day they're out in the field is some measure of close call, some sprint away from a death that none of them want, but have inevitably signed up for. it's just a matter of whether it's daemons or the niffs, and if he's perfectly honest, he'd prefer neither, thanks so damned much. ( but they are the elite, even if they are on borrowed time and borrowed magic, he's going to make the most of what they've been given. )

this is no different from the usual, a stint outside the protection of the wall surrounding the crown city in order to push back a forward advance by their favorite imperial force, and while there could have been a hell of a lot more damage done — both to themselves and their reserves, both in magic and energy, they're really no worse for the wear —

but leave it to libertus to make a mountain out of a molehill, especially where one ( 1 ) little sister figure is involved, and crowe is getting herself checked out and bandaged up, really nothing worse than some scrapes and bruises and possibly a cracked rib, but here he is right beside her anyway, looking on with a worried expression, brows knit together above narrowed eyes. )

I told you to take it easy. ( libertus. she's a grown woman. chill. )

Perfect KO punches are important, but who cares how you get up on a roof so long as it works and you're not walker chow? Nobody important, anyway. They both got up here, no one had to haul anyone else up.

"An hour's a long-ass time in hindsight." Time to hang out, then. He moves over to where Daryl is and peers out in the same direction before snorting slightly and shaking his head. "Hopefully they'll keep on passing through and draw the rest along with them."

That said and done, he plunks down to sit and rests his elbows on his knees. The building's holding up okay so far, so, well. Fingers crossed. "I'd make a joke about getting a suntan but..." But he's the palest fucker in the world still somehow and also he doesn't have a prop to make the joke really sing. Like his sunhat.

Luna was in New York partly on a research trip for The Quibbler and partly for a break from the rebuilding going on at home. So for the moment she was mostly looking for a noodle truck that had been mentioned when the frogs caught her eye,"Weird, moon frogs should not be seen in this part of the world. Must see what this means!" as she forgot the noodle mission and went deeper into Central Park.

Luna wasn't the only one to notice the frogs. Small, gleaming things meant to be found around a small lake in Russia, only seen following a rain storm when the moon was full. On their own oddities, useful for reading omens if one wanted divinations, but that wasn't the concern for Stephen.

When he was concerned with was the predators that made meals of these particular frogs, and the fact that they weren't really picky if they found humans instead of frogs. He knew there was at least one, he could see the tracks in damp grass and dirt as he hunted through Central Park for signs of where the creature was. It was probably some small rift the wildlife had come through, he could lure them back through and then close it without trouble. Easy enough!

Or it would have been, Strange catching sight of movement to his left, turning in time to see the strange girl wandering through. At the same time the predator watching from the bushes did.

"Get down!" Sorry Luna, were you doing something? Because that would be Stephen running her way, flinging his cloak out, the red garment flying from his hand to wing around her shoulders to try and push her down to the grass before the dark-furred beast launched itself bodily at her.

Luna thankfully lands with only a thud, being used to this during the war coming in very handy. "Was not expecting that for a simple moon frog colony!" she was able to speak once she had her wand in hand and could catch her breath. But her smile spoke volumes, the save did come in handy as she blasted a charm to send the creature after her and the frogs hopefully packing. Her mind however was spinning like crazy,"And the creature after the frogs, new one for me."

Oh don't you start.

[ Only the usual glare actually gets interrupted by a wince, because ow fucking ow, breathing is not fun right now and speaking even less. So, naturally, she's speaking more. ]

You should see the other four guys.

[ Who attacked the group of mages just at their most vulnerable, when the spell caught. One of the other Glaives got a nasty stab wound, but she's going to survive.

Probably. ]

At least you stayed in the clear.

Daryl grunts, irritated - just at himself, honestly, for not keeping a better eye on it, even though he knows there's nothing to be done for it. Sometimes these things are just so damn quiet, fuck only knows how. Two and ten and a hundred sound the same until they're right up on you.

He steps back from the ledge and carefully sits in front of the other man, still wary about the roof caving in. But if they settle on places where the supports are, perch on the sides if needed, it should be okay. Maybe. He'll poke his head up every so often and keep an eye out for breaks.

"You'll burn," he deadpans. "'Cause you're so clean. Ain't got no protective layer."

It's pretty much fine where they're sitting, at least for now - not in the middle, where there should be something under them just in case. He's thinking about when it hits double digits I start running and it almost makes him smile. There's no just running when you're not on your own anymore.

Anyway, he looks at Daryl and raises an eyebrow. "Is that why I'd burn? I shower too much?" Lightly, false-questioning.

"Do tans get through or is it all-protecting?"

[[Curious about putting these two here in some close call type sitch, but not sure entirely what to go with. Plop him in to her setting and deal with a couple Thunderjaws, go from there?]]

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Stephen Strange | Marvel | OTA

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