( Of course Chloe is going to go into the pet shop – there’s the promise of cute fluffy and feathery things. The rest of the noise is ignored for now as she takes her time peering at all the animals.
The birds are her first port of call, marvelling at their colours. It’s such a shame that until someone buys them – and assumedly treats them well – they don’t really have the room to fly. As if to soften that blow for them, she makes a few coos and chirps at them. They flit from short perch to short perch and flap their wings a bit but otherwise don’t seem as enamoured of Chloe’s presence as she is with theirs.
Moving along, she spots a sight that instantly tugs at her heartstrings. Sitting alone in a cage is an adorable little bunny. And that won’t do. That won’t do at all.
Fortunately for Chloe, the rabbit seems to be a friendly soul as she scoops it out of the enclosure and into her arms. Sitting down on the floor in case her new friend decides to take a flying leap, she rests it in her lap. Stroking its soft fur, she murmurs soothingly. )
You’re not supposed to be alone. Where’s your friend, hmm?
(As she knows enough about them to be aware of the fact they’re gregarious creatures who should be sold in pairs or as part of a group. Maybe this one will become part of a pair, but still. It’s irresponsible. Maybe she’ll have to pay another visit to question Curly on their business ethics.)
⭕ SPEAK EASY
( Following the music, Chloe gains entry into the back room. At first glance, it doesn’t seem like the sort of establishment she should frequent. Not everyone is as torn, resulting in her being jostled into the joint as revellers bustle around – and into – the dithering android.
Maybe she can stay for a little while and enjoy the music. It beats drifting around the city or drifting around the temple. The clearly not above-board nature of it all aside, there’s nothing that seems glaringly strange. Not for now, at least. It’s a welcome relief, but one that Chloe doesn’t let herself settle into too much. A sting in the tail may not make itself apparent immediately.
She stands by the bar, focusing in on the band. A smiling bartender sets a drink down next to her. In spite of her protests that no, that really isn’t necessary, but thank you, the bartender insists she gives it a whirl. There’s a glint in the bartender’s eyes that piques her curiosity (not that it’s hard to do so).
Picking up the drink, she peers at it. Slowly swirls the liquid around in the glass. Chloe glances back to the bartender, who just gives a little nod.
Well. When in Rome. Or something like that. Maybe the island has gotten to her. Or maybe a damaged system just doesn’t matter so much anymore.
Taking a tentative sip, Chloe waits for the inevitable system warnings. A moment passes. Then another. Nothing. No internal alerts to signal critical issues with her biocomponents. No sort of sensation that would suggest any kind of issue with her biocomponents. She’s just standing there having a drink.
Reckless as it is, she finishes the glass. Whether it’s the revelation of being able to consume the booze at all, the booze itself or a combination of the two that makes her start to feel rather giddy, who knows?
But it is interesting. Very interesting. Certainly something that warrants further testing. Just to see.
She orders herself a second round, sipping at it. )
Well. That really is quite something.
⭕ EXPRESSIONISM YOURSELF
( Chloe’s wanderings lead her to the white room, its stark, bare walls reminiscent of the tech lab. An eternally blank slate waiting to be written upon. Waiting for the next discovery to be made. And while this room isn’t that room, it’s so easy to picture.
A man at work, surrounded by devices of his own invention and those he’s had to upgrade to raise them above their mass-produced roots. A man who doesn’t sleep for hours because you can’t stop progress, and progress will wait for no man. Not even the man who changed the world.
Without her usual daily routine, there’s been so much time to just think.
It only takes her a moment to reach for the painting supplies once she spies them. Art has always appealed to her. Her talents may not have been worked for but she finds a freedom in the creative expression (even if how creative she may truly be has been the subject of very literal debate).
Her creator has always had the same response; she likes it and therefore it doesn’t matter what anyone else has to say about it.
The walls shouldn’t be so lifeless. They could really use a little flair. Something pretty to look at. Yes, a little beauty makes everything much better.
Brush in hand and standing before one of the walls, Chloe closes her eyes and searches her memory for a spark of inspiration. With an image in mind, blue eyes open as she begins to paint a lone female figure. Anyone familiar may recognise it as Rodin’s Galatea, only lacking her male counterpart. That and Chloe’s depiction is photo realistic. Meticulously detailed beyond the original statue, from certain angles it looks like it’s standing there in the room. The artist herself seems calm, the brush moving with an almost eerie precision. )
Chloe | Detroit: Become Human | OTA
( Of course Chloe is going to go into the pet shop – there’s the promise of cute fluffy and feathery things. The rest of the noise is ignored for now as she takes her time peering at all the animals.
The birds are her first port of call, marvelling at their colours. It’s such a shame that until someone buys them – and assumedly treats them well – they don’t really have the room to fly. As if to soften that blow for them, she makes a few coos and chirps at them. They flit from short perch to short perch and flap their wings a bit but otherwise don’t seem as enamoured of Chloe’s presence as she is with theirs.
Moving along, she spots a sight that instantly tugs at her heartstrings. Sitting alone in a cage is an adorable little bunny. And that won’t do. That won’t do at all.
Fortunately for Chloe, the rabbit seems to be a friendly soul as she scoops it out of the enclosure and into her arms. Sitting down on the floor in case her new friend decides to take a flying leap, she rests it in her lap. Stroking its soft fur, she murmurs soothingly. )
You’re not supposed to be alone. Where’s your friend, hmm?
(As she knows enough about them to be aware of the fact they’re gregarious creatures who should be sold in pairs or as part of a group. Maybe this one will become part of a pair, but still. It’s irresponsible. Maybe she’ll have to pay another visit to question Curly on their business ethics.)
⭕ SPEAK EASY
( Following the music, Chloe gains entry into the back room. At first glance, it doesn’t seem like the sort of establishment she should frequent. Not everyone is as torn, resulting in her being jostled into the joint as revellers bustle around – and into – the dithering android.
Maybe she can stay for a little while and enjoy the music. It beats drifting around the city or drifting around the temple. The clearly not above-board nature of it all aside, there’s nothing that seems glaringly strange. Not for now, at least. It’s a welcome relief, but one that Chloe doesn’t let herself settle into too much. A sting in the tail may not make itself apparent immediately.
She stands by the bar, focusing in on the band. A smiling bartender sets a drink down next to her. In spite of her protests that no, that really isn’t necessary, but thank you, the bartender insists she gives it a whirl. There’s a glint in the bartender’s eyes that piques her curiosity (not that it’s hard to do so).
Picking up the drink, she peers at it. Slowly swirls the liquid around in the glass. Chloe glances back to the bartender, who just gives a little nod.
Well. When in Rome. Or something like that. Maybe the island has gotten to her. Or maybe a damaged system just doesn’t matter so much anymore.
Taking a tentative sip, Chloe waits for the inevitable system warnings. A moment passes. Then another. Nothing. No internal alerts to signal critical issues with her biocomponents. No sort of sensation that would suggest any kind of issue with her biocomponents. She’s just standing there having a drink.
Reckless as it is, she finishes the glass. Whether it’s the revelation of being able to consume the booze at all, the booze itself or a combination of the two that makes her start to feel rather giddy, who knows?
But it is interesting. Very interesting. Certainly something that warrants further testing. Just to see.
She orders herself a second round, sipping at it. )
Well. That really is quite something.
⭕ EXPRESSIONISM YOURSELF
( Chloe’s wanderings lead her to the white room, its stark, bare walls reminiscent of the tech lab. An eternally blank slate waiting to be written upon. Waiting for the next discovery to be made. And while this room isn’t that room, it’s so easy to picture.
A man at work, surrounded by devices of his own invention and those he’s had to upgrade to raise them above their mass-produced roots. A man who doesn’t sleep for hours because you can’t stop progress, and progress will wait for no man. Not even the man who changed the world.
Without her usual daily routine, there’s been so much time to just think.
It only takes her a moment to reach for the painting supplies once she spies them. Art has always appealed to her. Her talents may not have been worked for but she finds a freedom in the creative expression (even if how creative she may truly be has been the subject of very literal debate).
Her creator has always had the same response; she likes it and therefore it doesn’t matter what anyone else has to say about it.
The walls shouldn’t be so lifeless. They could really use a little flair. Something pretty to look at. Yes, a little beauty makes everything much better.
Brush in hand and standing before one of the walls, Chloe closes her eyes and searches her memory for a spark of inspiration. With an image in mind, blue eyes open as she begins to paint a lone female figure. Anyone familiar may recognise it as Rodin’s Galatea, only lacking her male counterpart. That and Chloe’s depiction is photo realistic. Meticulously detailed beyond the original statue, from certain angles it looks like it’s standing there in the room. The artist herself seems calm, the brush moving with an almost eerie precision. )