[video]

[ownperson]

[ The woman on the video may look somewhat familiar; it's the shape of her face, the ice blue of her eyes, the blonde of her hair, her height. South and her brother aren't identical, of course, but the family resemblance is clearer than she'd like it to be.

(More than ever, these days; who wants to look in your own reflection and see your dead brother's features looking back at you?)

She's shoved the sleeves of her coveralls as far up her arms as she can get them, revealing a variety of tattoos up one of her muscled arms. There's hints of old purple dye in the front of her hair. Around her neck there's a puck, dangling from a chain, holding a chip of some kind.

She looks... pissed. ]

So this ████ing sucks donkey— [She blinks, then squints.] Oh for ████'s sake, I can't even ████ing swear? ████. ████. ████ing ████-████ ████████████.

[ There's a pause of a few seconds before South visibly decides to test this thing's limits. ]

████trumpet. Bull████. ████biscuit. Dip████. ████face. Jack███. Fuck██████— ha, ████ed that one up.

Ugh, whatever. My name's South. Yes, that's a ████ing codename, no, I'm not telling you my real name. Guess I'm stuck here with the rest of... whoever the hell you guys are. Which ████ing sucks.

[ Not that things didn't suck where she came from, but at least she was something resembling free and kind of in control of how much stuff sucked. Call her old fashioned, but she'd much rather ruin her own life than have someone else do it for her. ]

Comments

[bringinghopewithme]

Oh, when faced with slavery and a shock collar planted around your neck? Sure and I wouldn't know anything about that, would I, mate?

[Honestly he could stand to be a little more patient with her, given that she's new to these circumstances and he's had more time to adjust to them, but even mortal adults have had time to learn to mind their manners under stress. Usually.]

We're all in the weirdness together now. [He manages to say that a little more gently.] So what is it you're bringing to the table, besides a vocabulary?

[ownperson]

[ South shifts uncomfortably, scratching at her neck. The hostility and attitude is mostly just her being, well, her, but the circumstances certainly haven't helped smooth out her rough edges. ]

What is this, another ████in' interview? [ There's a little less bite to it, this time, a little more defensiveness. ] I can fight. M'sure that's what they ████in' want from me, anyway.

[bringinghopewithme]

Absolutely. Hope you've got your suit ironed.

[Fighting is . . . hopefully she's REAL good at it, given her diplomacy isn't wowing him yet.]

Well, that's not nothin'. Where'd you learn?

[ownperson]

[ She actually snickers, a little, at that first comment. South's always rather appreciated when someone can give back as much attitude as she can give out. It's less dull. ]

The playground. [ It's a dry answer and not immediately clear if she's serious or just being snarky, until she snorts. ] Nah, learned most of it in the military. One of the best in my squad.

[ Or, she was. Until the higher ups decided otherwise.

And look at that, she even got through a response without setting off the filter. ]

[bringinghopewithme]

[At least that's a little ice broken.]

Well, welcome. If you're not getting enough food, flag me down.

[ownperson]

[ She groans and rolls her eyes. ]

Why does it not surprise me that's an issue here?

But, uh, thanks.