“I made an outfit challenge! I’m not doing it atm, but you guys are welcomed to use it! You pretty much tell people to comment a letter+number+an OC and you have to draw them is said outfit.”
Please credit the creator @hoopla-art and link to their challenge if you use this!! I did not make it! Thanks!
“You know, I once heard that you should always know what you’re getting into first before offering to help.” She tries for a confident smile, shifting in her seat on the crooked branch. High up above the ground, Penna is at least sure in her escape routes in case the mood should suddenly sour. Not many could out maneuver her in the air, and if she remembers correctly this particular minor goddess is not associated with flight. Or for being particularly dangerous, but it’s always good to be careful when dealing with strangers.
“You know the age of heroes passed hundreds of years ago,” she sighs, looking down on the race of man that passed underneath them. Up and down the street they bustled, chattering amongst themselves and stopping at stalls for food.
“Now, stories of honour and love are so hard to come by. The iron age of man really is a race of liars and idiots.” Her voice is resigned, any irritation hidden away. She’d been born late and by the time she was recognized, all the heroes were gone.
“That doesn’t mean they aren’t fun too,” she feels the corners of her mouth twitch upward in genuine delight as she remembers. Lavish parties and corrupt families, like squabbling children all vying for power that didn’t matter. They’d call to Divitiae, and she made many fond memories with the god of lies twisting them around in a web of drama.
“But sometimes one finds themselves craving a good story that doesn’t end in death and destruction, you know? I’ve helped with many of those already.” Sometimes a little variety is nice in an immortal life. Gaze flitting back to fully acknowledge the other, Penna’s smile is innocuous even as she recalls past exploits of said death and destruction. There isn’t anything malicious there, only impish amusement. In a way there’s something much more ominous in that.
She may not be powerful in the way Divitiae is, it’s not within her power to change a mortal’s mind with a single whisper or demand sacrifices of blood and death. And she is even less like Death, Ludwig who makes a hobby out of giving but takes much more. She is not a hidden dagger or the whisper of oblivion. Penna is only as dangerous as words can be.
“I want something exciting,” she admits, running a hand through windswept hair. “Something clever and grand,” the declaration is clear and spoken without doubt, unconcerned in front of this deity she considers an equal.
“This time with a happy ending.” There’s a pause as she considers, then laughs, mirthful and high. “Well I suppose I could be convinced either way, if the story’s good enough.”
“Well, in fairness, all happy endings are a matter of perspective,” answers the little brown weasel as she scratches her ear with a hind paw, “Mortals die eventually, no real getting around that. A cynic might say that that’s where all stories end. Even fantastical heroes either die, ascend, or get popped up into the sky for the rest of us to look at…mmm except maybe for the ones turned to stone? I always wonder if they still keep a sort of life.”
The weasel stands on its hind legs, looking up at Penna with its head cocked to the side.
“I must say you sound as if you must keep rather cynical and dreary company, to think so little of our current mortal companions! Well, not that you’re wrong but it depends on the humans you watch. I can give you hundreds of little love stories from the last week alone-and heroes! Oh I can find you a hero. It might take some work, but heroes tend to call on my friendship whether they know me or not. It’s a shame how few of them get their stories told anymore, but your liars and idiots, the ones who can afford to hire bards, don’t tend to like my brand of hero very much,”
The weasel titters.
“Even if they might be liars and idiots as well. I love a merry idiot. The grand adventurers who retire to be fruit farmers and happily die irrelevant and of old age with a dog on their lap. Those are sweet stories. Much less grim than the petrified saga holders.”
She gazes down at the mortal plane with ears and tail twitching.
Deu’ma’s voice goes soft, “I doubt this will be surprising, but you’re first non-mortal who’s ever called on me. I was almost shocked to feel your prayer. You must be finding a lot of that death and destruction for you to want something better so strongly.”
Service With a Smile- AkA Some HCs about Messenger’s Conditioning and How it Effects Her Strategy
For Prime Verse
Sometimes I forget that Barbara has been under the Administrator’s thumb since she was 18. Despite starting to work directly under her at 21, the whole reason Babs got her original office job in the first place is that Helen discovered her coincidentally through recon on The Berserker.
The job description on the flier Barbara happened to find was specifically targeted at this particular desperate, naive woman.
It drew her out from her small town (and father’s protection but story for another day) into a coastal city, and into the dehumanizing conditions of her first job.
It was super bad to the point that whenever Mess feels overwhelmed, overworked, or stressed to the point of illness, she remembers the first office and her brain goes “okay well compared to that this isn’t so bad.”
Convenient, huh?
Even Hale treats her more like a person than her old bosses did, and offers the occasional positive reinforcement. Which is like crack to Messenger. Especially from a superior, or even just an older adult man. Validating her usefulness wins people major points, especially if you’re on relatively equal footing and she’s like “oh hey it’s not coming from a place of hierarchy, neat.”
Messenger is very easy to manipulate if she trusts or is loyal to you. But she doesn’t trust easily, and her loyalties are very difficult to shift, so she is also the perfect pawn to send out as a sort of Admin proxy/negotiator with allied and rival orgs.
Especially since she has also been conditioned to see herself as the most expendable asset in any situation.
After a few tricky hostage situations, Messenger underwent training and physical conditioning so that now, if the stress or pain levels she experiences get past a certain level, she will “check out” of the situation by passing out into a borderline comatose state. Because intel can’t be accessed without her, even on a drive or in a packet, this renders torture absolutely useless.
On a personal level, Barbara herself has always been highly loyal and a people pleaser, which was a lucky point for Admin. It also means that she applies her work logic of ‘most expendable asset’ to interpersonal relationships as well. Messenger will willingly, and cheerfully, die for anyone she loves or deems more important than her.
Which is p much everybody she doesn’t hate.
(Who she’ll kill for, though, is way more picky. She has yet to be put in that situation. She’s also got a hold on strategy and calculation, so her sacrifices are rarely spur of the moment, emotional “take me instead” moments. Rarely.)
But, and this is a fun point, this way of thinking has been around wayyyy before she ever even heard of Mann Co. Which in a way makes it sweet, because she really does put others first out of love, but on the other hand…trying to separate what comes from her conditioning versus her active, willful choices is…virtually impossible.
Not even admin knows just how lucky she got when she decided to hire this particular child of an ornery ex-employee.
Messsenger’s face flushes pink almost instantly, and her iconic big goofy flustered smile appears despite her attempt to keep it at least somewhat not so dorky. She has never had success with that.
“Ha, aha thanks uh,”
The gears turn in her head for a second as she marks their height difference, ultimately deciding to brace her hands on his shoulders and hop up a bit to give him a peck in return. It’s pretty clumsy, but she does manage to kiss just a bit under his cheekbone. Back on the ground, Messenger takes her hands off Scout’s shoulders and sticks them in her pockets. Still very pink, still dweeby smile. “Gotta be even, right?”
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