OTA

May. 15th, 2016 09:15 pm
finlay_flynn: (dawn)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
Since the incident, Fin had taken to self medicating. More so than usual- Much more. Fin often seemed to have the lingering scent of high end cannabis woven into his clothes, but lately he was hitting the harder stuff again as well. though he'd always been very high functioning for a user- Enough so that anyone who didn't know him well might not even know he was high.

It was slowly taking a toll though, in subtle ways. His temper, which had already been a bit unpredictable of late, was shorter now, and his inhibitions- Which had become more and more minimal over time- were nearly non-existent.

So tonight on his way into the club when several paparazzi began harassing him, Fin didn't respond the way he'd been taught to. ...No, quite the opposite. 

They shouted questions about his sexuality, about the sex tape, about his mysterious partner- Sometimes politely, but often crude and almost taunting. Like they wanted to provoke.

Little did they know, they really didn't need to put that much effort in.

Rather than answer, Fin caught the first person to approach him around the middle, dipping them low- Not unlike he had in a recent film of his, in a scene that had been called quite 'swoon-worthy' by his dedicated tumblr fans.

"What do you think?" he asked his surprise partner. "Should I tell them about us, lover?"

(OTA Even strangers! I thought Fin could use something a bit light hearted, so here you go. If your pup tags in, he'll prolly snog them. (The only exception I can think of is Sunny, because that would be kinda incesty imo :P) Though if you'd rather he didn't, just give me a poke on slack or email me, and instead of giving them a kiss, he'll just escort them into the club or something. XD The club can be any kind you like!)
utterly_mysterious: (boy)
[personal profile] utterly_mysterious
Angelique hurried down the street, feeling like an alien in some low-budget production, played out in someone's dingy upper room -- one in which the wardrobe budget was particularly abysmal. Skinny blue jeans, a shirt (not even a blouse) that might have served as a cute short dress at any other time, and a loose dark cardigan over it all that covered up any shape Angelique might have had. Hair and makeup had been completely fired from the production, as well, affording only a messy queue of unruly black hair to frame a clean, not-quite-boyish face.

Angelique looked like a boy, and every step she took along the pavement felt just slightly wrong. Head down, eyes on the pavement, strangers seemed to jostle her at every turn, but she said nothing and avoided eye contact, no matter how often she stumbled.

The trouble with living one's life without labels and without limits was that even individuals who defied categorization had families, including a younger brother and sister who, at times, wanted to see the older sibling about whom their parents seemed to have forgotten. Supper in the city, perhaps every three or four months, was the most contact Angelique had with her siblings. And every time, she dressed like this, washed her face, and ignored her hair, just to keep them from asking any questions.

It wasn't long before she passed an organic makeup boutique, and came to a halt to stare in the window at the spring line of products. Surely just a lipstick would help erase this feeling of wrongness... but could she go inside, looking as she did now? Angelique watched the shop girls with their black outfits, perfect hair, and gorgeous faces, and envied how simple it all must be for them.

((OOC: Open post! Angelique looks much more masculine, and may or may not be easily recognized by people she already knows. Find her either being bumped around on the sidewalk, or staring in the window of the makeup shop, or anywhere else outdoors that makes sense!))
treasuredtales: (Default)
[personal profile] treasuredtales
The board meeting had had a few hiccups, and in the end, Belinda had resorted to magic to see things settled to her liking. The two newest members seemed to have believed Belinda being board chair and majority shareholder meant nothing when she was also young (apparently), black, and female. True, she generally let the business-minded handle the business aspects of the company, but delegating responsibilities was the mark of a good leader. Padding the bottom line at the expense of the creators who were the soul and source of the products Loreworks traded in might work in the short-term, but it was bad business over time, and Belinda had had to be rather insistent on that subject.

After the meeting, Belinda felt she’d earned a bit of a treat, so she stopped in at one of her favorite bookshops. In a manner of speaking. She wasn’t sure she could pick one favorite bookshop, when there were reasons to love them all. So much, she decided to make a day of it, going from one shop to another: from the large Waterstone’s and Foyles to Shapero’s rare books, shops specializing in signed first editions, and those with shelves and shelves of yellowing paperbacks, new books and old books, and everything in between.

Belinda sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by small piles of books she'd pulled from the shelves, her choices following an impulse that would probably seem random to anyone watching. Children's books, weighty literary fiction, sci-fi and fantasy both, mysteries and romance, and more - if it was a kind of fiction, it was probably represented in her selections. She paid no mind to how she was blocking half the aisle, although someone coming near was enough to get her to glance up from the book she was flipping through.

OTA

Jan. 24th, 2016 08:40 am
akatawitch: (Blue)
[personal profile] akatawitch
You're weird lately.

People put it in different ways and in different languages, but that seemed to be the constant refrain around Sunny these days. When she called home to talk to her mother, Mama said she was tense. Her school friends found her snippier than usual. When she called Orlu--and by extension Chichi, since Chichi didn't have a phone or computer--she could be freer but even they noticed something was off.

The problem was, Sunny just wasn't dealing with it. She couldn't properly say what it was. Or maybe she could and she just didn't want to.

Is something going on?

The suggestion had come up from people who had no idea how impossible it was that maybe she should talk to somebody. Somebody professional. Only Sunny knew she wouldn't make it a day in therapy of any kind. She had too much to keep to herself, and unfortunately a large part of that 'too much' factored into the sort of person she was. It would never work. So... the thing inside her only grew. Snowballed. Every little anxiety was balling up into a larger one and it was going to mow her down one of these days.

Today she'd been trying to release some of that tension by playing soccer in the park with some friends. London never actually got very cold, which suited Sunny just fine. But while she usually tried to hold back in the game since she was better than all of her friends and they all knew it, she was too aggressive. She ran too hard, kicked too hard, yelled too loud. Seemed only inevitable that she'd take an injury, didn't it?

So she'd benched herself to watch them play, babysitting the backpacks, and a thought flashed through her mind. I don't fit here, either.

And that was so dangerously close to the heart of the matter than she immediately shoved it away, rolling up her muddy jeans to see the place where her shin was already turning livid purple.

You're weird lately.

OTA

Jan. 4th, 2016 05:25 pm
finlay_flynn: (pensive)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
Last night his sister had tuned up at his door to drop several bombs on him, in that way only Kelly- Now Pippa- Could. She'd done it with style and a smile, and then flounced back out before any of it could really settle in.

Now in the aftermath, Fin sat outside The London Studios, having spent the afternoon doing a read through for a mini series based very loosely on the Ripper murders. It honestly hadn't appealed to Fin initially, but the director was someone he'd been itching to work with, and this seemed as good a way to get to know the man as any. Though his career wasn't what had him chain-smoking and frowning to himself. 

He thought of his father, and how they'd never reconnect now. Angry as Fin still was when he thought of the other man, a small part of him had always hoped they'd work things out one day. That the man would tell him how sorry he was for vanishing, and that maybe, just maybe, Fin would find it in his heart to forgive him. 

Then, of course, there was the matter of Pippa's bite marks and the new discovery of their family 'curse'. How Fin wasn't the first in the family to be changed, how he wasn't the only one with supernatural ties... Things Pippa had shared, but only right before leaving, offering him no facts and no place to start looking- Only a promise that they'd talk more when they went to clear out their father's home. ...Something Fin very much didn't want to do.

Scowling, he lit another smoke and sighed deeply. He really ought to have been heading home, but he felt too wound up and tense, restless even.
goodfellow: (chair)
[personal profile] goodfellow
One month ago, one of Soho's trendiest and yet least profitable dance clubs closed its doors. There were rumors for a while that the space was going to be turned into an upscaled gym, or perhaps gutted and chopped up into boutique shopping. But not much of anything seemed to be happening until just after Christmas, when the trucks were constantly parked by the service entrance and there seemed to be a flurry of activity.

Meanwhile, anyone who was anyone received a VIP invitation to the "pre-opening" of SATURNALIA, soon to be London's newest hot spot, but in the meantime hosting a huge party to ring in the new year. Togas optional but encouraged. Also receiving these invitations was anyone who even remotely knew Robin Goodfellow (or Rob Fellows), though his name wasn't on them.

The doors were also open to anyone, a line and bouncer required only because the space could only fit so many. But Robin had instructed the bouncer to be creative if not random with who he let in. As far as he was concerned, pulling in a street urchin or two over the hot starlets would not only improve the atmosphere but be good for business in the long run.

The doors opened at 9pm, and the place filled steadily as midnight approached. Inside, the club was clearly not finished, and there were many trappings from the previous space still in place - a large dance floor, several bars, private rooms, a couple of small stages for performances, an impressive elevated DJ table. For tonight, the theme was clearly one of the decadence of ancient Greek - decorations in gold and white and stone, replications (one would assume) of famous artwork of the time, including a number of statues. A copy of "David" cast in stone was a centerpiece, set up in an area that encouraged partygoers to take selfies.

The bars were not open, but prices were much cheaper than they should have been, coupled by the occasional appearance of Robin in his (somewhat skimpy) toga and gold-cast laureal wreath crown to hand out shots, mead, or wine to random partygoers. The point of the party was clearly not to make money but to build buzz, and from the length of the line outside after a couple of hours it was clearly working.
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Merry Christmas!
You are invited to celebrate the season with Finlay Flynn and Willy Silver.
 
When: Christmas Eve (5pm – Midnight)
RSVP: By Email (SBMNGR@ldnmgmt893.co.uk) Before 19/12
 
Upon entry you'll be given a ticket for one free drink. All drinks after that are 5 each. There will also be a free buffet in the dining area.
 
Dress code: Casual, but tidy please!
 
Raffle: Come wearing a festive sweater and you will automatically be entered into a raffle to win a 65 inch TV.
 
Donate: Bring three tins of canned food to be donated to the local food bank, and receive an extra drink ticket.

Look forward to:
A live DJ, live music, an appearance by Santa, gift bags with deluxe swag, and the company of old and new friends!

 
(OTA! Happy holidays! If you know Fin, Willy, Phouka, or Winter, feel free to assume they gave you an invite. If not, you can say your pup got an invite through a friend of a friend, someone who knows someone, ect. It IS invite over (no gate crashing pups please, Fin's a giver and would want everyone to feel included), but the pups hosting the party are pretty active and I believe they know almost everyone in the game. And the people they don't know surely know people who do. Even if you only met them once, you got an invite somehow! This gathering post is open all week, and beyond!)
sunsongs: (ballad of denim boy and grey girl)
[personal profile] sunsongs
[Warning: fictionalized dissociative fugue-like state]


The morning brought with it retribution for last night's indulgences: pounding in the head broken up by sharper stabbing pains; stomach churning; arms and legs seeming too long, too short, too foreign, like a stranger's, apart from instead of a part of this body, only blankness when trying to remember the excesses that led to this. The city was too loud, too sharp, the sun too bright glinting off steel and glass of tall buildings. Too many noises and too many voices, different languages, different accents. Strange smells that itched the nose or tickled the throat.

Where am I? What is going on? How did this happen?

A blond man wandered the streets and green spaces of London, no particular destination in mind and apparently little awareness of the current location, humming bits of melodies or singing softly in a variety of languages, modern and ancient. Maybe you recognize him. Maybe the song he sings hasn't been heard in centuries.

[[OTA, slow and late tags welcome. Coby is Not Himself. Here's a chance to "meet" one of Shamsiel's previous incarnations. Every top level will get a different one, so if you want to meet someone from a particular time period or culture, talk to me via slack/email, and I'll try to oblige. He may originally speak another language, but if your character speaks to him in English, he'll switch, although he might not realize what language he's speaking. Regardless of tagging order, thread with Anael will occur last.]]
london_spy: (sunlight)
[personal profile] london_spy
cut for spoilers )

Standing in the middle of Tesco he glared at a bunch of bananas, as though they'd wronged him somehow. then picked up an orange and added that to his basket as well. This had seemed like a good idea when he'd left the house, but how was he supposed to just buy groceries as though everything was fine when his whole world was falling apart?

(OTA! Please read my post in the OOC com before tagging in! Also, I know the GP is going strong, so late tags, slow tags, ect are all very welcome. I'd love for him to meet lots of people, so don't be shy!)
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
With cold weather rolling in and taking over, it seemed as though London was as eager as it could be to embrace the seasonal traditions of sharp blades on ice and food in faces.

Many ice rinks had opened this weekend, though Canary Wharf was by far the most impressive one. Large, beautiful, and not too busy if you came at the right time of day. Music played at a pleasant volume and the ice was littered with young and old, couples and singles, novices and show-offs... Anyone bold enough to strap on some skates.

Elsewhere in the city there was food to be found at the Foodies Festival. A place where you could find not just fine food, but also live-music, carollers, photo-booths and team quizzes.

It was a quiet way to start ringing in the holiday season- Or simply just enjoy the brisk weather that had crept in and was here to stay until spring.

(Gathering post! Set over the weekend, but open all week long to new top levels and tags. Tag in now and check back in often!)

OTA

Nov. 11th, 2015 11:03 am
finlay_flynn: (pensive or wtvr)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
 The hardest part was keeping the lies straight.

"I thought you were only having one of your eyes done?"

"I did, the other I had done abroad- It was a spur of the moment choice..."

"Your so pale now..."

"The medication, it doesn't sit well with me."

"You're so thin!"

"No appetite. It'll get better though, I'm sure."

He'd anticipated that though. He'd known he'd need to lie and fib left and right, until people just accepted he could see again- And that perhaps he was still a touch unwell. What he hadn't anticipated, however, was the resentment that many of his old friends seemed to  suddenly feel towards him. It was one thing when Fin was a rising star- But pitiable because of his disability. Now, however... Now he was already receiving television and film offers left and right, and that... That apparently upset a few people.

He'd been leaving one of his favourite coffee shops when he nearly walked right into Phil. A man he'd worked with many times in small productions. A good actor, but older- Perhaps past his prime in the eyes of many.

"Oh! Phil, how brilliant to see you," Fin had smiled, offering his hand, and looking puzzled when it wasn't taken.

"Brilliant is it?" Phil replied, raising a brow and ignoring the offered hand. "So posh sounding these days, Fin. I don't remember you being posh- Not when you were sleeping on the streets, begging for parts. ...Wouldn't know you were dragged up in Manchester with that posh voice you put on."

Fin's smile faded slightly, and he forced an uncomfortable laugh. "Bad habit, I suppose," he said awkwardly.

"Not a habit," Phil assured him. "Just as fake as the rest of you, that's all."

Fin's smile faded completely then, aware that people were staring now. "Right," he said awkwardly. "Well, I should... I should be off."

Phil smiled then, a vicious smile. "I suppose so. That casting couch wont get warmed without you. ...Catch something, have you?" he added, looking Fin over with a sneer. "Should be a bit more cautious, Fin. ...Or is it Finlay now?"

Fin didn't answer that, he simply turned away trying to hide the embarrassment he felt as he started walking and brushed off a young woman who tried to stop him for a selfie.
londoncallingmods: (Default)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Halloween was as spooky or dull as you needed it to be in London. From handing out treats to those who came knocking, to attending costume parties and concerts all over the city, there was something for everyone tonight.
 
Plenty of bars and clubs were offering discounts to anyone bold enough to turn up in costume, and even the underground was bursting with holiday cheer as costumed commuters came and went, breaking up the dull day to day routine one usually faced while making your way from point a to point b.
 
Even those who chose to skip the costume were indulging in treats or maybe a creepy film or two.
 
There was no excuse to be bored. Not tonight. Not on Halloween.
 
(General Halloween GP for those who aren't keen on the haunted house! Feel free to post your pup anywhere in the city, from fancy dress parties to street corners. Go wild (or, you know, stay tame. Your call) Also, because there are two GPs going up this week, both are open to new top levels for two whole weeks! And, of course, you can keep tagging long after that if you want. :D I'll post reminders daily on slack.) 

OTA

Oct. 13th, 2015 12:36 pm
hollow_moon: (blerp)
[personal profile] hollow_moon
He'd had all weekend to recover from his run in with Jag, and though he was still feeling slightly wounded, he'd made an effort to put all that unpleasantness behind him- Or, to at least make it look as though he had.

Monday had been spent inside, drinking far too much coffee and watching crap telly, but today he'd decided to pamper himself, just a bit. Yes, Val liked to play the part of the rebel or the black sheep, but deep down he did quite enjoy the finer things. Anyone who'd ever stepped foot in his home could tell you that. So today he'd had his hair trimmed, and his stubble groomed into something fashionable and deliberately scraggy. He'd bought a new winter coat, a new pair of jeans, and a striking pair of boots.

As a result he was terribly overdressed as he made his way to his local butcher, hoping to get something decadent for dinner.

Still, despite his fine clothes and the way he carried himself, there was a sadness lingering in Val's eyes. Even as he smiled and nodded at a few familiar faces, he seemed distant in a way he rarely was.

His phone chimed, and he pulled it out to find a text from one of his cousins.

Need to get away from Auntie Vera for a few days (weeks?). Thinking of going to Alpes. Lovely cabin there, lots of booze. You should come.

Usually Val would have declined, he couldn't just vanish on such short notice. He had commitments to keep and a museum to run after all. ...And yet he found himself tempted. It would be lovely to just vanish from London- To let the wolf run wild in the mountains, and to drown his sorrows in vintages from years he'd never lived through. ...It would be wonderful to not care.

OTA

Sep. 30th, 2015 05:48 pm
dr_spencer_reid: (crimson cardigan)
[personal profile] dr_spencer_reid
It wasn't as if Spencer had never been in a violent and dangerous situation before- He had, on multiple occasions, been held at gunpoint and shot at. So it was safe to assume that wasn't what had him feeling so shaken up this evening, though it had been startling to have a gun aimed at him after so long. Gun violence just wasn't as common here, and most of the cases he'd worked on lately hadn't involved gun violence in any way.

No, what had unsettled Spencer today had been how young the attacker had been. Barely even a teenager... And yet somehow armed, and violently angry.

At the last moment the boy had turned the gun on himself, and now after stacks of paperwork, meetings, briefings, and conversations that had seemed unending, Spencer found himself at a small cafe, staring at his cold coffee and trying to make sense of everything that had happened. ...All while questioning why he kept returning to a job that only left him with too many unanswerable questions, and an uncomfortable weight on his chest.

"I'm sorry sir, but are you planning on ordering anything else? I don't mean to rush you, just we're short on tables tonight," a server said, her voice soft and painfully polite as it snapped Spencer out of his thoughts.

(OTA! Catch Spencer leaving the cafe, or join him at his table.)
sunsongs: (radio in my head)
[personal profile] sunsongs
“Grab another drink, stretch your legs, do what you’ve gotta do. Just don’t go too far, ‘cause we’ll be back in a few,” Coby says, with a wink for the crowd and a nod to the rest of the band. He finished off the rest of his beer as he followed the other guys off-stage. Dave and Brion headed straight for the bar, and Máire turned toward the ladies’ room, but Coby made a left to go around back of the stage and out the side door.

“Ten minutes, yeah?” the manager reminded him on his way out, either not noticing or not caring when Coby shoved half a brick against the doorjamb to keep it from closing behind him. He really didn’t feel like walking around to the front to get back in, and who knew if somebody would hear him knocking.

The night air was cool after the closeness of the bar and the charge he always got performing, and his skin prickled at the sudden change as he leaned against the wall and breathed deep. The bar was on a corner, the door he’d come out opening on a smaller street than the main entrance, but this time of night there were still plenty of people walking by. Coby hadn’t even been in London two weeks yet; getting caught lighting up on a public sidewalk wasn’t the idea. He still got out his lighter, but for a Marlboro that brought too many memories along with it. Marlboros were Javi’s brand, and the hypocritical bastard had had no problems puffing away on one while telling Coby he shouldn’t smoke so much ‘cause it would fuck up his voice.

“Damn it, Coby, gotta stop with this shit,” he muttered to himself, then glared at the person who’d paused, maybe trying to decide if he was talking to them or just crazy.

Crazy, was the answer, but he tried not to be too obvious about that kind of thing. Besides, that was the idea behind coming to London, right? Get away from things for awhile to get his head on straight again.


[not Coby's specific set list for the night, but for anyone wanting an idea of what it's like - or who just feels like listening to Steve Carlson - a a playlist on youtube]
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Summer was coming to an end, and fall was slowly creeping in as the temperatures dropped and the store fronts down the high street started to change to muted and earthy colours.

Menus at restaurants were beginning to change, and school for many was already back in session. Though there were still people attempting to enjoy the last weeks of summer, despite the fact that the weather was already turning on them.

As always, there was plenty to do this weekend, and though tourist season was slowing down, the streets and the underground were as busy and bustling as ever.

(Though the GP takes place over the course of Sat & Sun, it is, as always, open for as long as people want to top level and tag in. Be sure to check back throughout the week to see who has tagged in!)

OTA

Jun. 26th, 2015 05:18 pm
whispersoflove: (laughter/good humour)
[personal profile] whispersoflove
Once upon a time, the news would have filtered slowly, and Anael would not have noticed any sudden, remarkable surge of love. But with the Internet, information spread like wildfire and Anael's attention was caught. The cause for it became apparent in some of the prayers that reached the Second Heaven, and he dutifully finished what he had been doing, left his lieutenants in charge, then headed to Earth.

It was a good time to be on the physical plane, and he went where he would find the most overjoyed people. It was too early for people to be off work in America, so he started with London, and found himself walking through the streets of Soho, a youth in jeans and a t-shirt smiling at the entire world. He talked to anyone he met, and soon found himself unknowingly walking around with a lipstick kiss on each cheek.

"It's a good day for love," he told the next person he met, his smile bright and echoed in his eyes.
pecked_by_birds: (Default)
[personal profile] pecked_by_birds
He'd fallen asleep in America. In fact, he'd fallen asleep in America night after night, lost and suddenly so unsure again. Sanity was fading, and he'd fled London in search of stability.
 
He'd woken up in Spain. Skin as dark as the earth he'd been chained to replaced by milky white flesh that looked far too fragile and thin. Though when he stared in the mirror, he saw no fragility. He saw the gaze of a titan, the teeth of a survivor, and the grin of a madman. He should have been upset about that last part.
 
He wasn't.
 
The plane ride had been brief, and upon finding himself back in London, he'd headed straight for the bar.
 
“Whiskey, neat, and don't be stingy, dove,” he purred, soft pink lips spitting out each word as he flashed a little too much teeth with his smile.
 
The barman had gone from charmed to unnerved, as he well should have. Prometheus didn't react though, he only took his drink and surveyed the evening crowd. God he loved London. They were all so lost and so desperate. Love me, notice me, want me. Dull, stupid. His gifts were wasted on these fools, and had he had the strength, he might have burned this pub to the ground, just to remind them all how fragile and brief their lives could be.
 
Lucky for them, he was still a bit weak.
 
One drink became several, and soon he was on his way. He walked with feminine grace, but there was nothing soft about him. Nothing sweet. No one who looked at him would see a fragile woman. Perhaps a queen, perhaps a warrior- The truly perceptive might even see the truth. A titian ripe with madness, armed with charm, intelligence, and a dangerous smile.
akatawitch: (Fabulous)
[personal profile] akatawitch
For all the good that it hadn't done her, Sunny had done the dutiful thing and called her father this morning. It was Father's Day in the United States where she'd been born, in the United Kingdom where she currently lived. Both she and her father would be happier for her not calling, but like how Ezekiel Nwazue did kindnesses to Sunny for the sake of his wife, so she did kindnesses to him for the sake of her mother. Mama's voice saying hello in the background was the whole reason she did it.

It went about as well as expected.

I'll see you in August?

Of course.

Of course. Like he was settling in for a long obligation like jury duty. He didn't care in the slightest if she never came home again. Except, for his wife's sake.

She decided to go out rather than sit and stew on the matter and dressed herself in all the shades of the sun--her dress a gradient of oranges from nearly red to nearly yellow, purple abalone in her ears, a gold necklace at her throat (the only costly thing her father had ever given her)--and went out. During the day she hung around Camden, losing herself in the myriad distractions of the district. Contrary to what people of her condition were supposed to do for their skin, she stayed in the sun as much as possible. Communing with it, if you wanted to get mystical about it. Which she didn't, not aloud.

That night, though, she went out dancing.

It was her great love, dancing. And in the dark of the club, Sunny shone. And it wasn't just that her dress was too bright or that she was too pale, though that was what onlookers would attribute it to. No this was something inside her, like if you looked close enough you'd see light shining out of her face. Anyanwu moved just under her skin, making her movements almost unearthly, making her bold. She drew eyes. She drew partners. And it felt so good.

As one song slid into another, she cast her eyes about for a new partner. Though if she didn't get one, she wasn't in the mood to mind.

((Day or night, doesn't matter, just come bug her!))

OTA

Apr. 23rd, 2015 10:48 pm
alcuin: (Default)
[personal profile] alcuin
It had been a while since anyone had randomly recognized Alcuin. He credited this in part to the fading memory of the city (despite the tabloid flair-up around the holidays), and in part to his decision to cut his hair. He'd also taken to wearing glasses, which were a prescription weak enough that he'd typically gone without them in the past, but he was spending considerably more time in front of a computer these days than he had when Anafiel was alive. Maybe it was a little Clark Kent of him, but he definitely wasn't noticed as much this way. And it wasn't even just being recognized, but he also got less attention. Which caused... more conflicting emotions than he would have anticipated.

In any case, this all resulted in his looking like a rather normal young man sitting at an outdoor cafe drinking coffee and reading a copy of Jon Ronson's new book So You've Been Publicly Shamed. It struck a bit of a chord with him, to be honest. He was glad he hadn't spent much time on social media last year. He really didn't want to know what Twitter had thought of him.

The cafe was busier than usual, perhaps due to the weather being nice, and it was a Friday just late enough for people to skip out of work early. He reached over and took his bag out of the other seat at his table in case anyone wanted to join him, as there were no more empty seats around.

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