OTA

Mar. 13th, 2017 07:18 pm
vampireevolved: (Default)
[personal profile] vampireevolved
Godric had been away from Area 9 and his responsibilities there longer than originally planned, but reunited with Eric after decades apart it had been tempting to avoid thinking of going back. Skyping with Isabel and Stan shortly last night had left him unable to ignore it any longer. With the approaching dawn, he had assured Isabel he would be return to Dallas by the end of the week, not convinced he'd have two lieutenants if he left them to handle things without him longer than that.

Much of his remaining time in London would be spent with Eric, but there was time still to explore and enjoy the city and its people before he left. He had no plan, simply set out from Eric's after sunset and wandered on a whim. He rode the Tube for awhile – it really was one of the best ways to people watch, and he never knew what he was going to see. He stopped in at a few interesting looking shops, even a bar or two.

There was an openness to Godric's quiet calm, which seemed to welcome conversation from those who noticed him, and when someone approached, he greeted them with a small nod and a spark of interest in his eyes.



Find Godric pretty much anywhere he could reasonably be after dark. Don't worry; he doesn't bite. Slow/late tags welcome.
wispofathing: (Riding the night wind)
[personal profile] wispofathing
Curnen stood on the roof of her building. She probably wasn’t supposed to be up here, but it wasn’t like anybody particularly noticed or cared and not like she couldn’t evade notice anyway. Her eyes had fallen closed and she let her body sway and swing with the whims of the night wind.

It had been hard to notice it through the heartbreak, but once Curnen had forced herself to get back to work so she could do little things like make her part of the rent, she realized that something had changed. Something in her mind had cleared and sharpened since her father died. She started stringing together a little melody, one all her own. Lyrics, too, though they may not be for this particular piece had started to come as well. There was not a song, not just yet, but when she managed to discipline her unused muscle, there would be one. A dozen. More, maybe, in time.

Now she hummed, and the sound of her humming blended perfectly with the breeze. She lifted her arms and raised her dry eyes to the sky, singing up into the black. The nearly full moon peeked through the cloud cover, and she smiled.

Oh time makes men grow sad
And rivers change their ways
But the night wind and her riders
Will ever stay the same


And the next moment she was gone from that rooftop, flying high above London on Tufa wings.

They, like her creative muscles, were not up to full strength yet. So she landed from time to time to rest, and the wings disappeared as though they’d never been.

Though she had a few deliberate stops to make tonight as well. Look, look! she wanted to tell everyone she knew I can fly!

(And Curnen's got her wings back! If your character know she's fae and she knows where they live, she's stopping by at their window because she can. If they also fly, meet her in the air! Otherwise, she can literally appear anywhere. She's not stupid, though, if you're not one of those people you're probably not catching her with her wings out.)

OTA

Mar. 8th, 2017 11:30 pm
pecked_by_birds: (\-_-\)
[personal profile] pecked_by_birds
When it came to figuring out where he'd been the past few months, the truth was that the titan had made minimal progress. He knew he'd purchased a vase that contained some of his power, was fairly certain he'd briefly been in Germany, and, at some point, had developed a taste for glazed donuts.

Why hadn't he liked these before? They were wonderful...

He was returning from a trip to the shop that sold the glorious treats, getting ready to open his shop- Only to be greeted by a small pile of dead rooks. Prometheus would never admit to having any sort of avian based fears, but they did make him uneasy. Mostly the live sort were the ones that made his stomach flip, but a pile of dead ones was, well... Enough to leave him deeply unsettled.

"Well, this can't possibly be good," he sighed, sipping his coffee and nudging one of the dead animals with the toe of his shoe. "...Definitely a bad sign."

Frowning, he looked up at the sky and awkwardly flipped it off with the hand that was carrying his paper bagged donuts.

"Miserable, randy old cu- Oh, hello, sorry, I'm just about to open up..."

ota~

Mar. 8th, 2017 12:01 pm
kersenjr: (drinking)
[personal profile] kersenjr
Time kept on passing, and Bonnie hated it. Her life was over, literally, and the more time went by, the more apparent it was that the world didn’t care and was perfectly happy to move on without her.

The people (vampires) around her didn’t seem to care either, or if they did, they didn’t understand and weren’t ever going to.

She felt like she was going to explode. Meanwhile, the sun still rose and set, the streets filled with traffic every morning, shops opened and closed and streetlights came on at night. Everything was normal and okay, except for her.

Sometimes she could sit still. It didn’t mean she was coping, but at least she could stay in one place. Tonight, she couldn’t. She felt like she wanted to start screaming or trashing the house. Kersen wasn’t home, which meant she didn’t have to bother trying to act normal, so she ran straight out the front door and slammed it shut behind her.

She took a completely unnecessary breath of cool night air. She didn’t feel better, exactly, but at least she couldn’t trash the house if she wasn’t in the house.

She started walking with no idea or care where she was going. It was coincidence that she happened upon a liquor store. A happy coincidence, in her mind. When you were in a shitty mood, what could be better than a whole building full of alcohol?

It wasn’t hard to rob the place. She didn’t even need to use her vampire powers. She just walked in, took what she wanted, and walked out. Nobody was paying attention.

It took a moment for her to get the lid off the bottle of cake-flavoured vodka (she was strong enough to lift cars now, but that didn’t mean she could open a goddamn bottle), then she kept walking, chugging the stuff as quickly as she could in hopes of getting well and truly drunk.

OTA

Mar. 7th, 2017 03:43 pm
akatawitch: (Upset)
[personal profile] akatawitch
She'd made the right choice.

She was the one who'd dumped him.

She knew that they were better as friends, given that was all he seemed able to give her.

It still felt like her stomach was going through a paper shredder whenever she thought about it.

So Sunny's coping mechanism to ignore the shredding inside her was to throw all of her free time into researching how to help Anael. If she was thinking about magic, she didn't have to think about emotions and how much they sucked and boys and how they were no good and how much she didn't want to talk to anybody about this utter failure and--

And anyway, it made her behave. She had already pulled in Faizel on this project, and she'd be stupid to cut him out now. Anael was more important than her shredding. Felix... well, what good would making things more awkward for him do? So she continued to text Faizel about this. But not about anything else yet.

Meaning that right now she was sitting outside a cafe, researching Afro-Caribbean religions--the ones that blended the folk beliefs of West Africa with Christianity--to see if that might give her some indication of what to do with her own power. As an added layer of making it difficult for her mind to wander, she took notes in Igbo.

Of course, it also meant that anybody who got curious wouldn't have any clue what she was actually writing about, and that wasn't a bad idea either.

She'd made the right choice. So why was she trying so hard to keep from curling up and dying?
finlay_flynn: (fox - fooof)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
This was, maybe, not the best idea he'd ever had, but ever since the day his magic had first shown him the wonder of transmutation, Fin had found he spent quite a bit of his free time as a fox. It was good for napping (especially on Will's pillow or lap), good for running around, didn't use nearly as much energy as channelling his magic into the ability to see... But for the most part he kept it inside the flat. He could still only turn into the fluffy white fox after all, and that made wandering outside quite hard.

He was desperate to run wild in the park like he had with Phouka that one day though. He couldn't explain it, but he itched for it the way he craved a cigarette in the morning. His magic wanted it- And so Fin had set about finding a way to make it possible. It had taken a bit of practice, but he was slowly mastering the art of obfuscating himself- Something he wished he'd mastered back when the paps had been on his case constantly. He wasn't an expert, but he was good enough that anyone without a touch of magic, or the like, wouldn't be able to spot him. ...Yeah, that was it. That was the whole plan to be honest. Hardly a work of genius, but it would do.

Finding a quiet spot in the park to shift hadn't been hard, and soon enough the little white fox was fleeing around in the grass. He chased birds, dug a few holes- Even found a pond to wash his paws in- Only to go fleeing around all over again. Though he did eventually wear himself out, flopping down near a tree and looking up at the stars that had become visible as night had crept in.

If someone would bring me food, this would be perfect,
he thought, the words audible to anyone willing to listen, and his swishing tail visible to anyone looking.

(OTA, but be aware that only magic users can see and hear Fin currently. If he knows you and you're not magic, I can work with that too. He'd reveal himself to a friend. ^_^ Also he's not going to stay a fox the whole time, I promise. :P)
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Lucky in love or not, London was a lovely place to find yourself on Valentine's Day. From romantic walks through various parks, to intimate dinners or shared deserts in the many restaurants and cafe's- There was something for everyone, because if wandering or dining wasn't for you, well, there were plenty of organised events to attend.

London couldn't claim to be the city of love, but it was certainly a city of possibilities.
high_voltage_magic: (pic#11015435)
[personal profile] high_voltage_magic
With Valentine's around the corner, and with Isaiah considering it one of the most depressing holidays, he'd decided it was time for his experiment. He gathered the things that he'd purchased, most of it from the curio shop with the redhead 'solo act' lady. He got out the hot plate, and sat down in his dorm an hour before noon to do his work. The first half hour was prepping the ingredients. The second was waiting, because he'd decided that noontime was the perfect time to mix it all.

Lavender and rose candle wax, finely shaved. Black salt, just a pinch. Crushed sage. Mint leaf, crushed. Ground walnut shells. Add water, heat, and chant over the mix as it comes to a boil. Remove from heat, allow to cool, and drink.

Getting the incantation correct and sitting firmly in his mind was half the challenge. It was something like a prayer. A prayer for happiness. A prayer for the end of sorrow. A prayer for love to come to him.

It didn't go down easy, but in the sanctity of his dorm room, at least nobody else could hear him choke it down. He set the glass he'd used aside, and waited for the potion to hit him in full.

-------

"Hi. I'm Izzy," he said to, well, whoever this was, his face bearing a dopey grin, his cheeks flushed. For all intents and purposes, Izzy was smashed off of his ass. He was coordinated enough to not get picked up by the cops, but he was going around and greeting anyone who so much as looked his way.

He didn't know what time it was. He didn't care. It was time to share happiness and love with everyone. He didn't know where he was. The where, who, and when didn't matter. What mattered was that he was happy. He couldn't care less about any of his past concerns. What had they been? Why had he cared?

The world was such a lovely place. And he just wanted to tell this person that he thought they were lovely, and that no matter how bad things were, that things would always, always get better. Even if you needed a little help.

((OTA; put Izzy with whoever and put him wherever you desire! The sky's the limit; he could've wandered wherever in his potion-induced state))
pippa_flynn: (Default)
[personal profile] pippa_flynn
After weeks of agonizing about whether she was or wasn't pregnant with Akeem's baby, the relief of a definitive negative had done wonders for her. No longer was her skin stangely grey, no launger was she angular and gaunt.

Today Pippa was the picture of heath. Radiant with life and good cheer. She was dressed for shopping, a trim cut houndstooth single breasted coat with the hem of her red blouse peeking out from beneath the edge of the coat. Red leather gloves, black skin-tight leggings, and knee high black leather boots completed her look. Her hair was pinned up on each side and the luxurious weight of it tumbled down over her shoulders.

She paused as she exited Harrod's to check her phone. She had a few other places she simply must go, but for the most part she was simply shopping and finding joy in it. It had ben too long since she'd been able to empty her head and enjoy the banal.

"Oooh, I have enough stars for a free Grande. Starbucks next, it seems..."

She looked up and around, smiling at everyone around her. She desperately wanted to scream "I'M NOT PREGNANT!" to everyone, but she refrained. A smile would do.
wispofathing: (Black Eyes)
[personal profile] wispofathing
How do you bear it?

Curnen had never heard Peggy Goins sound so tired and broken in her life. Miss Peggy had always been vivacious and cheerful, but she was taking the murder of her husband on top of all the other recent mayhem in the Tufa community about as well as could be expected. Which was to say, not at all. Tragic love stories were not new to their people, but the murder of a loved one… well. Curnen was the last to face that, which was why she supposed the now widowed Mrs. Goins was calling her. She couldn’t remember much if anything of the conversation, but that question had stuck with her.

How do you bear it?

It had banged around in her dreams by night, and by morning the barriers that Curnen had consciously or unconsciously put between herself and her past were in splinters and everything in her that wasn’t nailed down was shaking loose--her father and her mother and her husband and her birth and her curse. She tried to go about her day. She tried to put it all away again where it was supposed to be, but there was too much, too much too fast.

How do you bear it?

Her legs gave out in the middle of the sidewalk and she fell to her knees screaming. Not crying. Screaming. Screaming fit to tear her throat raw. Her hands tangled in her hair and tore at it almost hard enough to rip it out by the fistful, and yet the pain of this did nothing to soothe the storm inside. If anything, it seemed all the more determined to make itself known, the air temperature around her dropping sharply into freezing cold.

And she screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

OTA

Feb. 9th, 2017 08:26 pm
pecked_by_birds: (intense)
[personal profile] pecked_by_birds
The past month- Months?- Had been strange. One night he'd found himself compelled to go out, as though something was calling to him. A silent siren song that had coaxed him into his car  and out into the country.

Where had he gone? What had he done?

Those were the questions he had to ask himself when he woke up in the middle of Hyde park in a rumpled suit and a brand new body. ...Possibly brand new. Certainly new to him in that moment, since he couldn't recall much of anything from the past few weeks. His head was pounding, and he was in agony. 

A large bird sat upon him. A hawk, he thought absently- Or maybe not. He couldn't seem to focus on it. Not when his gaze was so strongly drawn to all the blood. ...His blood.

"No," he said softly, trying to chase it away with a weak wave of his hand. "I'm free, you can't- He can't," he insisted, right before the world went dark. ...Not that it mattered. It would heal, he would heal. He always did. How else could the punishment continue?
hollow_moon: (chest)
[personal profile] hollow_moon
The past few weeks had been a whirlwind. Ever since he'd met Jack it was as though everything had changed, like he had changed. Val was giving up his museum, joining Jack's team. ...He had even opened his home to the other man, and things between them were moving fast. Insanely fast, if he was honest. So insane that anytime he slowed down to think about it, he found himself slightly shocked by his own behaviour.

It was good though, he felt good. Maybe a change was exactly what he'd needed. Maybe a bit of insanity wasn't such a bad thing.

A side effect of not having the museum to run meant he had more free nights, and though he often spent them with Jack, or at Torchwood, he was also back into a familiar habit of dropping by his favourite private club to spend time with the lads. Tonight was one of those nights, and he was nursing a few fingers of scotch while cousin Denton chatted his ear off about some bird he fancied and they watched Teddy and Kelly play the worst game of snooker ever.

"You know, it is good to see you here on a Saturday, Valentine. You never come 'round on a Saturday," Denton said cheerfully.

Val had been watching Teddy awkwardly stretch across the table on tiptoes, cue behind his back as he lined up a shot that would never sink a single ball. "It's Friday, Denton," Val replied, glancing over and raising a brow.

"No, it's definitely Saturday," Denton assured him seriously. "I know, because on a Friday I take Aunt Millie down to visit Uncle Randal's grave. I did that yesterday. So, today is Saturday. Can't pull one on me, Valentine," he grinned, tapping his nose and then pointing at Val.

Val, however, wasn't smiling. "Shit," he muttered, pulling out his phone and checking the time. How had he missed a whole bloody day? It wasn't like him to make such a huge error, and he downed his scotch in one go as he tried not to think too much on how he'd gotten so careless. "Sorry, Dent, must be off," he said, not waiting for a goodbye before headed for the door.

His car was parked just outside, but he knew there was no way he'd get home before he changed. It just wouldn't be possible, and the last thing he wanted was to turn while driving. No, best to risk it on foot- That's what he decided as he briskly took off towards his home. Again, he wouldn't be there before he turned, but if he was careful... Maybe he could make it home unseen.

...He barely made it halfway, ducking into an alley just as the wolf began to overpower him. He had more control now, could change at will, but this was happening now, tonight. He couldn't fight a full moon.  The wolf was coming.

The last thing he remembered was a dark alley and loud voices. The wolf's memories were always blurry... But there had been a bang, and then pain, and when he'd opened his eyes again he could still see the moon above him. It was there now too, full and watching over him as he lay bare in the alley, his human form restored and blood swiftly exiting his body thanks to a bullet hole in his left side. This wasn't where he'd turned though, his clothes and phone were stashed a block away, where he'd hoped he might retrieve them tomorrow- But even if they'd been near, he wasn't sure he'd have had the strength to call for help. As it was, he could only just barely croak out a shout- A garbled word, desperate and breathless, lost to the cold air of the night.

(As noted in the title, this is actually timed to the night of the 11th, when the moon is full). I'm posting it early as I know a lot of people don't have time to tag during the weekend. OTA, LT/ST welcome.)
curio_arcanum: (Default)
[personal profile] curio_arcanum
On grey February mornings Rebecca Sullivan was glad to be watching the world through the glass, from the warm safety of her shop. Curiosities, secondhand treasures, and New Age doodads crowded the dim shop like a riotously neglected garden of junk. Amid the this-and-that Rebecca had sprinkled a bit of magic. There were the four leaf clovers meticulously pressed in plastic that she had spent one frustrating afternoon picking and then enchanting with minor luck spells. St. Anthony pendants with a minor tracking spell on them--Rebecca was particularly fond of those, as it had taken her some time to make the magic not lock on to anything until the customer needed it. Bundled sage that really cleansed the house of lingering sadness, quartz points that made the bearer seem like a no-fun target to malicious spirits, beckoning cat statues with faint money attraction spells. Major magic wasn't something to spread around willy-nilly, but Rebecca thought that she might be making the world just a slightly better, happier place.

She was perched this morning on her usual stool which was rocked back onto only two feet, leaving her leaning against the wall. The counter was huge as they often were in these old shops and made of real solid walnut to boot. It was also covered, at the moment, with ring stains from coffee cups and one ancient cash register that hadn't worked since before Rebecca inherited the shop and flew here from America. She used a newfangled square reader and a tin box for cash, both stashed on a shelf below the counter. In the back room the coffee pot was making that whining noise, which Rebecca was happy to ignore. The good machine she kept upstairs in her apartment, and running up and down to use it would have required far, far too much work. What this crappy old machine spat out was basically coffee and that was good enough for her--she just needed a steady caffeine drip to get her through her day.

The jangle of the bell over the door startled her out of her reverie, and she spilled a bit of coffee over the rim as she placed the cup on the counter. With her best Midwest smile she looked up at the newcomer. "How can I help you today?"

Debut - OTA

Feb. 1st, 2017 09:24 pm
high_voltage_magic: (pic#11015433)
[personal profile] high_voltage_magic
Isaiah was getting settled in. He was already glad that his north-midwestern accent was getting him slightly confused for a Canadian from time-to-time. But he'd settled into his dorm at the start of the semester, and now, he'd finally gotten familiar enough with maps of the city and such that he was doing what he was meaning to do for awhile now, though he'd been buried in classwork.

Right now, though, he was on the lookout for anything and everything magical in nature. Some of his research suggested that some groups in Europe, especially England, were magically inclined and hoarded secrets. Granted, the boards he'd learned it from weren't particularly credible, but things on the internet weren't particularly credible about this sort of thing in the first place.

There wasn't any harm in looking, after all.

So it was on this particular afternoon that Isaiah, dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt, dark blue jeans, and black leather boots, was walking down the street, a silver thread (okay, it wasn't real silver, but surely silver colored thread was fine, too, right?) tied to his middle finger, suspending a small pendulum made of a chunk of what was probably authentic quartz. With the spell he'd cast before leaving his apartment, it should guide him to anything, or anyone, magical.

Granted, paying attention to the pendulum meant he wasn't paying attention to what was in front of him. So when he bumped into someone, he stumbled back a few steps, surprised, and raised his gaze. "Sorry," he said. "Didn't see you there."

ota

Feb. 1st, 2017 07:07 pm
winter_wisp: (think)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
Winter was exactly two and a half inches taller than he had been last week. That is, when he was at his mortal height- As a pixie he remained six inches tall. Which was very tall indeed for a pixie. As a mortal, however, he had grown from one-hundred and seventy five meters, to just over one-hundred and eighty. ...How terribly exciting, and potentially frightening!

He'd known he was taller, because he'd felt taller. He'd confirmed this feeling by standing beside the line he'd drawn on the wall to measure himself previously, while Philip had insisted that the line had somehow moved lower. After assuring the budgie that the line was not, in fact, a very stealthy worm (Philip had checked twice already, but needed confirmation), he'd drawn a new line and measured the difference.

After finding all his trousers a bit too short, and dithering over what colour his hair should be today (he eventually settled on white), Winter had set out into the world to do some shopping- And very definitely not think about the strange vision 'possibly not actually dead' Aspid had shown him of that terribly tall and warped future version of himself.

After a morning of popping in and out of shops in the high street, Winter had redressed in clothes that actually fit. Trousers that went past one's ankles weren't always the fashion, no, but given how cold it was at the moment it was preferable. Especially now while he was parked outside a cafe, nursing a coffee and, uh, reading. Like, a real and proper book. Winter read a lot actually, it just wasn't something people often caught him doing. Books were things he took to bed or curled up in the corner with during rare quiet moments. They were how he filled his time between the almost manic bursts of energy that usually made up his day. ...But today he was less manic and wild. He was shockingly calm, really.

A lot of what Winter read he selected based on their covers or titles, and today's selection was no different. He liked birds, and so To Kill A Mockingbird seemed worth a look. He wasn't sure why you would want to kill a mockingbird, but he didn't have to get very far into the book to realise that, like so many of the titles he selected, the title wasn't literal.

(OTA, Find Winter outside enjoying a coffee and getting lost in a classic. <3 Timed to late Wednesday evening, but it can be earlier if you like.)

OTA

Jan. 30th, 2017 04:20 pm
whispersoflove: (otherworldly)
[personal profile] whispersoflove
Coby wasn't home, and hadn't left a note for him, so Anael was walking through the streets of London to get to Alcuin's home, enjoying the chill in the air, the way his breath fogged on the way out, the ebb and flow of love in the hearts around him. Hands in his jacket pockets, he paid no mind to the odd looks he occasionally received for wearing nothing but a denim jacket over a t-shirt in this weather.

It began as an itch in his back, a barely there scratch where his wings would be. He did not think much of it, only shifting his shoulders the way he normally did when the urge to let them out came over him. But then the itch burrowed deeper, and increasingly hotter, until it was more of a burn than anything else, and his lungs were alive with it.

He'd hurried into a side street with little foot traffic and leaned against a wall there, his breathing short and heavy. He tried to cloak himself, but he couldn't keep a hold on the miracle through the pain he was so unused to, and he collapsed to his knees as he heard words in a rough language that scraped against every fiber of his being, a language of Hell. His wings wouldn't come out and he folded to his side on the wet ground, seeing shadows on the other side of the street. They were all saying the words, out loud and right into his mind, and one of them came forward, a pair of boots stopping right in front of him. They pulled his t-shirt collar down and drew a symbol between his collarbones, their fingers red with - blood? The symbol felt like it was searing into his flesh. Anael cried out, physically as much as spiritually, praying out to God with all of his being.

The words ceased suddenly, pain abating slightly, and the dark figures dispersed as someone ran over to him.

OTA

Jan. 26th, 2017 08:28 pm
hollow_moon: (deep thought)
[personal profile] hollow_moon
A good life, the sort that was truly lived, was often more a roller coaster than a gentle cruise. There were ups and there were downs, hills that either offered an exciting flutter or pure dread. Val was fairly certain he was perched atop one of those hills now, but he couldn't see through the fog well enough to know if he was in for a flutter or a full on fall. ...Hell, for all he knew, he'd run out of track.

Still, it was exciting. Exciting was good. It had been too long since he'd had a good thrill.

The doors of the museum were wide open, with signs outside encouraging people to come in and see the items that would be going up for auction soon. Yes, part of this drop involved shutting the doors to what had once been his pride and joy, and while some things had been passed onto other museums or tucked back into his personal collection, some things were simply being sold for charity. By the end of February he'd be leasing the property out, and he would, it seemed, be working for Jack Harkness.

Jack had come crashing into his life on New Years, and somehow one night of idiocy and pleasure had turned into a promise of adventure. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a real job- One where he wasn't his own boss and doing whatever he liked, that was. ...And he'd certainly never been offered on on the spot before. It was all so strange and exciting, and Val found himself itching to start anew. 

The items for sale were in the main room, but some of the exhibits remained open in the back, where Val was currently sorting through some items and packing them away in large crates. He was bent over, wrapping a large vase when he heard someone enter behind him, and he spoke without looking up from what he was doing.

"I know it says no flash photography, but it's all going away for a while. Take as many selfies as you like."

OTA

Jan. 26th, 2017 01:00 am
miss_ives: (caught at my own game)
[personal profile] miss_ives
In the new year, Vanessa had found that she could actually approach life as a whole with less gravitas than she had in the last few months. She had not seen Prometheus again since the evening at that occult museum (nor had she read in the papers about the theft of a vase from there, but she had not gone back since, and it simply might not have made it into the papers), but while she was no more protected than she had been before his gift of the talisman, at least her home was warded now, courtesy of Felix Harrowgate. That was a welcome luxury.

But even more surprisingly, Vanessa Ives was making plans. Plans that would take her far from everything she knew, if only for a fortnight. And in good company, at that. Her initial misgivings about Yves had eased with time, and she was glad of her spontaneous decision to ask him whether he would like to accompany her. A trip abroad, somewhere neither of them had any ties, might well be what they both needed.

She had finished her inventory of Prometheus's shop, for all that a lot of items in it were described rather than identified. She still opened up the shop some evenings, as well as on the weekends, when she could, but as the time for the trip came closer, she found herself distracted both at work and in the shop. Distracted, and in a surprisingly elated mood.

She was just cleaning some items in the shop when the door bell jangled from someone coming in, and rather than turn around to face them straight away, she glanced at a mirror to her side. Her eyes widened at the figure she saw in it, and she turned around in a start. "Mina!"

Here was her beloved Mina, pushing back the hood of her white coat, as beautiful as she had ever been. She even had a smile for Vanessa, and Vanessa did not know what to make of that. Why would Mina smile at her?

"I do not blame you," Mina said. Unlike Vanessa's usual visions, she stayed, and spoke to her. Could it truly be her? Could Mina have found her? Why? "Any blame has been washed away in your suffering."

"I do not deserve that," Vanessa answered, surprised at the steadiness of her own voice. "I cannot forgive myself."

"I am married now," Mina went on. "He's no soldier, but he is good to me. A lawyer. Jonathan."

"I am happy for you," Vanessa said, finding it to be true. Whatever had pushed her to seduce Mina's captain, it was nowhere to be seen now. She took a step closer, and then another, expecting Mina to vanish with proximity. Her visions of her never let her get close.

But here she still was. Was she real? Could this truly be her? Could it truly be Mina smiling at her now, sad though that smile was?

"Poor Peter," said Mina, and Vanessa frowned in remembrance. There had been three of them. She had loved him too. "If only you'd gone after him, that day, after you kissed him. If only you'd told him you loved him for his weakness..."

"How can you know that?" Vanessa asked, her frown more pronounced now, and a tightness in her chest that spoke of ill tidings.

Mina's eyes shifted, a red glow shining out, as her features darkened, and Vanessa could not move. "I know many things now. My Master has taught me them." There was a gust of wind through the shop, and then Mina's face was as beautiful as it had always been, even in her distress. "Things no one ought to know. Vanessa. Save me!"

Vanessa reached out to her, but the door to the shop had burst open, and she was too late, too slow to catch her friend's hand, and Mina was gone in an instant, in a scream, leaving Vanessa's breath short, reaching for someone who was not there, and terrified for her dearest friend.

OTA

Jan. 22nd, 2017 09:02 pm
akatawitch: (Wilderness)
[personal profile] akatawitch
Putting a fist in someone’s face had no business feeling so good, but for Sunny it was sweeter than anything in this moment.

Catcalls were a part of life for a woman, and normally in the interest of getting the hell out of there as soon as possible her response would be something along the continuum of ignoring it to shouting something back. But she would keep moving. Moving away.

She couldn’t do that today. It wasn’t just some complete idiot stranger shouting what on the surface was a compliment on her ass. It was political bullshit, it was protest marches, it was school stress, it was winter blah, it was friends in terrible relationships, it was sexual frustration, it was feelings that were too big for the little container she was trying to keep them in, it was her father’s weird face when she’d finally told her parents she was seeing someone.

It was too much.

She’d roared and rounded, and then he was on the ground with a bloody nose and looking up at her with stunned terror in his eyes while she stood over him and yelled.

“Get the fuck up, bomboy!”

((Sunny can be anywhere that’s convenient for you. By the way, she basically called our nameless sleaze a manchild))

OTA

Jan. 22nd, 2017 08:03 pm
kersen: (male: wet)
[personal profile] kersen
Kersen sometimes did this thing where when he was feeling his worst, he tried to look his best. Elaborate drag when he was the most down, for example. Like maybe he could force cheerfulness with sequins and lipstick.

This time, he couldn't seem to muster up the energy for drag, though. What "look" said 'I just found out a lover is a serial killer'? Particularly coupled with 'what does this say about my taste in men'? Finally, he'd just gone with the forced cheerfulness: dark purple leather pants and a shirt (gifted to him by an employee years ago) that read OF COURSE I'M PRO-GAY, DO YOU THINK I WORK THIS HARD TO BE AN AMATEUR GAY in bright rainbow colors.

... also he'd started smoking again. Which was a little ironic since he was pretty sure that any effect they had on him was purely psychosomatic.

However, at the moment he was having a smoke break outside his bar. It was fairly early yet, just past 9pm. The streets were still full, lively with people leaving restaurants and shops, heading into bars and theaters. He liked this time of night, where the world was still alive. Wished he could experience more of it.

Some asshole walking by threw a homophobic slur at him, and he was briefly, stupidly tempted to flash his fangs as a threat. Instead he said, "The most fabulous you'll ever see, honey," and flicked the cigarette to the ground. Luckily it was the cowardly sort of asshole, and he just stuck up his middle finger and kept walking.

Profile

londoncallingrpg: (Default)
London Calling RPG

July 2017

S M T W T F S
       1
2 345678
91011 12131415
1617 1819202122
23242526272829
3031     

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 25th, 2017 08:36 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios