[RPG • 100] Apocalypse • Schrijftopic - Speeltopics

The sun appeared bright, a treacherous notion as cold settled in the air. Her sunless strands of untamed hair danced in the soft breeze when Juniper made her way towards the council hall, her boots thudded on the worn path. The bureaucratic heart of Riverside’s however seemed, at least today, quieter than normal—laden with a tension that she could feel deep in her bones. And she certainly wasn’t the only one : the ache of loss lingered in every corner, smoke from last night’s fire choking their confidence. Her steps slowed as she approached the large double doors. For a second she listened to the low hum of voices within, trying to discern who had gathered already, alas—yet, she did hear the murmurs. People were angry, afraid, desperate for answers.
      A steadying breath and the woman pushed open the door with an easy confidence. As she did, the room fell silent for a single second before returning to the former whispers. Even if it had been a mere instant, she had turned their attention to her, and she was about to do a lot more in a moment. Things were about to be changed. Juniper didn’t care that she wasn’t a member of the Council, not officially at least—the urgency of their situation made such distinctions irrelevant. Juniper had never been one to play by the rules, and today, more than ever, those rules seemed frivolous. As some of the others exchanged glances, she strode confidently to the long table where the seven chairs were arranged.
      Without hesitation, she moved around the table to one of the empty chairs, the one closest to the door. She let her fingers brush the worn wood as she slid into the seat, without any regard for formality, crossing one leg over the other. She made no apologies for her boldness; they had long since gotten used to it. “I assume you’re all about to discuss how we’re going to survive the next few weeks”, she said, her voice rich with authority as she leaned back in the chair, her boot heels resting lightly on the floorboards. “I figured I’d offer my thoughts before you decide to screw it up.” Scanning the faces, not just around the table but the very room, she noticed some still hadn't arrived. Elliot. Astrid. Benjamin. In her three years residing in Riverside, many had become familiar —it was a small community after all— and yet there were faces among them that she didn't immediately recognize, of more recent members. She pushed away the vexatious whim that told her they had brought the chaos, and drummed her fingers idly on the armrest.
      The woman opened her mouth once more, not waiting for an invitation to speak, when the door creaked open again. Her body tensed just slightly, but she didn’t turn around immediately. If it was who she thought it was, there was no need to. Now, she knew that occupying one of the seven chairs was a bold move—it was a silent message, but she didn’t care. Benjamin did not own it, after all. If you wanted change, she'd taught herself to claim it, which she did by making herself a part of the conversation. And she had been doing that a lot lately : claiming things. Finally, Juniper tilted her head over her shoulder, meeting his eyes. Benjamin had, indeed, stepped into the room, his presence was enough to silence whatever whispers were heard.
      “Didn’t think you'd show”, she taunted, her voice calm but with an underlying edge of mischief. She didn’t move from his chair, didn’t flinch when she saw the momentary flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. If anything, her posture relaxed even more, one hand resting on the armrest, the other gently swirling the ring on her index finger.

The moment Benjamin entered, Juniper couldn't resist the slight smirk that tugged at the corner of her mouth. Her manner of making statements had always been bold, but today — today was anything but a game. She had seen the damage of their small society, had helped try and stop the fire (on spreading to other buildings), and moreso : had sobbed well into the night for every single loss they'd endured. All by herself.
      As he entered, the room quieted, and Juniper let the moment stretch just long enough to let everyone stew in the tension. However, her posture relaxed as she settled even further into his chair. Benjamin didn’t even flinch at her audacity. And if Juniper thought anything of this, she certainly didn't show. “Juniper”, he said amused, taking off his gloves. She couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow in a challenge, the darkness of her eyes growing deeper by the mere mention of her name. His attempt of acting nonchalant roused attention, that is—hers. But she noticed the way he actually made an effort of hiding his curiosity, which curled the corners of her lips when he continued, now switching to Dutch, “Corazón, wat is dit? Je hebt nog nooit eerder mijn stoel nodig gehad om gehoord te worden.” Benjamin casually leaned against the table, rested one hand on his thigh, his back towards the rest of the room. Juniper would lie if she said she didn't like his full attention, the way his eyes flickered with amusement. It was as if they were the only two in the room. A girl certainly could get used to this. She met his gaze with a certain defiance, a spark of mischief, even almost purred as he took off his leather jacket. But instead of an immediate response, she simply looked at him in silence, a sly smile on her lips. Until, without breaking eye-contact, she leaned forward just a fraction, and in one smooth motion, tugged him a little closer by the collar of his shirt. The movement was subtle but undeniable—challenging.
      Her fingers gripped the fabric lightly, pulling him into her space. “Mhm. Dat is wel het laatste waar we ons zorgen over moeten maken, nietwaar?”, she teased, her voice low and playful, her lips almost brushing his as she whispered the words. Juniper let go of his collar, her eyes never leaving his. “Per slot van rekening hebben we ook nog nooit eerder in deze situatie gezeten”, she said with a wink, leaning back into the chair as if she had already won — as he decided to take his leave from the table, telling her to wait for the rest. Knowing that the attendees were still watching their every move, she let Benjamin walk to the coatrack. When he turned to move back, she slowly uncrossed her legs, rising from the chair with casual grace, as if she had all the time in the world. Her darkened orbs trailed over his frame, before it was her turn to lean against the table with a subtle smirk. With a playful flourish, she swept one hand towards the empty chair beside the table, a gesture that was as much a challenge as an invitation. After all, she did love to throw him off balance. “After you, oh, Great One”, she said, her voice a smooth tease. Her eyes sparkled as she straightened, still leaning against the wooden furniture, watching him closely.
      When he finally settled into his chair, the quiet buzz of people's underlying tension swirled around them. Now, with her back towards the crowd, she let her foot slide out of her shoe, smoothing it between his legs. “Don’t get too comfortable, Ben”, she purred, her voice dropping an octave as she gently brushed closer upwards. “I’m just getting started.” Taking the seat next to him (which seemed to be Elliot's), Juniper tied her laces and took a wandered gaze through the (increasingly fuller) space. There, in the far corner of the room, stood Viktor—and a genuine warmth entered her eyes as she raised a hand in greeting. His way of going about things much matched her own, raising a misunderstanding about one's true character.
      “Fine”, she drawled, dragging out the word, “we'll wait for the rest.” A hidden sharpness, however, laid in her gaze, removing all playfulness from earlier conversation. “But let’s not pretend we don’t both know that if I don’t speak now, no one will be able to get a word in edgewise”, she added, her eyes impatiently (yet determinedly) flicking back to the large double doors. “And we really don’t have time to waste.” To put strength to her words, she tapped her fingers lightly on the armrests. She was ready to take the lead, ready to steer this conversation in the direction she knew it needed to go. And the Council—well, they could either play along, or she could make them.