Aug. 14th, 2016 01:24 am
willysilver: (Default)
[personal profile] willysilver
It was a lovely night by all accounts. The weather was just cool enough for a jacket, the breeze making the leaves flutter and twitch. The moon hung bright in the sky, nearly full, and in the park there were people enjoying the night.

Willy was out busking tonight, though he had no heart for it. No joy, no enchantment. Tonight, as for the past nights, he sat on the edge of a fountain and he played sorrowful songs of lost love. He understood them now. He had never truly understood love, that much he had come to realise since Fin had departed. He knew desire and passion, he knew friendship, he knew possession, but he had never understood partnership or equality or even the necessity of respect. He knew now, though.

It was a hard learned lesson. His music wasn't the only thing lacking enchantment. His own visage was ashy grey, his luxurious hair drooped flat, the curls dull and limp. There was no light in his green eyes, they were flat and dull and dark.

His fingers strummed the strings mournfully.

I've stolen all the stars to make a wish we can fly
Away, away up high to that old place in time
Where our pictures never fade and our hearts don't lie
Won't you stay a while and watch our world go by
I'll keep holding on to you and your Saturday smile

Has our Autumn died
Help me find you again

I think it's love
I think it's love
That gets us through
All our goodbyes
So when we die
Think of love
I'll think of love
And thoughts of you
To lay me down
I think it's love
That keeps us new

If only it could be the very first time
Kiss me like it means something inside
I don't want to leave and I'm afraid to find
Our fate die in a dream and let me know you're not mine
Lie a little longer, my Saturday smile

Has our Autumn died
Help me find you again

I think it's love
I think it's love
That gets us through
All our goodbyes
So when we die
Think of love
I'll think of love
And thoughts of you
To lay me down
I think it's love
That keeps us new

The people who passed nearby were struck by the power of the fae's melancholy. He mourned not only his lost love, but the fact that he couldn't find him. He had visited the hotel many times but now the Phouka and Winter had gone off to make a home of their own and Fin did not come or go from the hotel anymore. And the longer he was gone the harder it became to feel him with any specificity in the city of millions. He knew he needed to find Fin to speak to him, do make what repairs he could, but he could hardly find the energy to even strum the stings tonight.
goodfellow: (dark)
[personal profile] goodfellow
It had taken considerably longer than Robin anticipated, thanks to some building code issues that had pushed back his renovations by months, but following the thrown together "preview" on New Year's Eve (that had gone very well if he did say so himself), Saturnalia was finally officially open for business.

The inside of the club looked somewhat different than it had in January: more polished now, better decorations, furniture, lighting. There was still Greek inspiration, particularly in the murals on the walls - modern, graffiti-inspired versions of Greek art and myths, bright colors splashed amidst chrome industrial decor. Most of the employees (bartenders, dancers) were wearing togas.

The grand opening was a hot ticket, but Robin had sent out invitations generously, and instructed the bouncers at the door to let in the beautiful people as usual, yes, but to be rather random about it as well. After all, what was the fun in only the rich and beautiful?

Alcohol was free flowing, and the music was hot, spun by a DJ on a stage who seemed to have the perfect sense of the crowd. He may have even had a little help by magic. Because why leave these things to chance?


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!)
lcrpg_npc: (fog)
[personal profile] lcrpg_npc

(Rather than write the same vague drivel, here is a pretty gif to inspire you, a link to the weather for the week, and a link to londonist, a great resource for all things London related. As always this post is open all week. Tag in, tag others, check back often!)
toujours_impur: (happy puppy)
[personal profile] toujours_impur
The past few days have been rather traumatic for Sirius, but he was doing his best not to dwell on it, because he had a whole new London to get on with getting used to, a new life to start. Thank God Remus had been here and had somehow been the one to find him, because he wasn't sure what would have happened otherwise. He likely would have been arrested by the muggle police and probably even been declared insane, for he would have insisted it was 1981, not 2016.

Instead, he'd been taken to Moony's flat and been taken care of as well as caught up on this new reality he found himself in. A trip to the Ministry had gotten him further sorted, and while there was one more meeting he would need to undertake soon, he wasn't quite ready to meet the adult version of the infant he'd seen just a few nights ago in Hagrid's arms.

But at least he now had money in his pocket, and he knew just where he wanted to spend it. He'd always enjoyed muggle toys (which reminded him, he'd have to find a way to get a new motorbike, as he had no idea where his old one might be by now, and at any rate it was decades old even if he could locate it), and from what he'd seen so far of Remus' mobile phone, he knew he absolutely had to get one of his own.

Finding a shop to purchase one hadn't been difficult; he'd simply asked the first person he saw peering at their little screen where they'd got it and gone there. The problem now was that there were an awful lot of models and varieties to choose from, and he had no bloody clue what he was looking for, what made one version more or less desirable than the next. He wandered around the shop peering at the little cards that announced each phone's features (which may as well have been in Bulgarian for all the sense he could make of them), fighting the urge to just buy the most expensive one in the shop and be done with it, as he no longer had unlimited funds available, at least for the moment. "Which one do you like?" he asked a nearby person with a flash of his charming smile, not bothering to check if they were an employee or if he was simply hassling a random customer.

[Welcome to modern-day London, Padfoot! If your pup wouldn't have a reason to be inside a mobile phone store, feel free to run into him outside trying to figure out how to work his shiny new smartphone. :D)


May. 3rd, 2016 08:35 pm
finlay_flynn: (fluffy headed boy)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
The 'sex tape' had turned out to not be much of a tape at all. It was only about five minutes long, and appeared to have been filmed on someone's camera phone. It was a bit kinky, yes, involving handcuffs and quite a bit of filthy talk, but... Honestly, Fin thought it was quite tame by his standards. 

Still, it was out, and every media outlet had seemed to have something to say about it. The reactions ranged from shock and moral outrage, to long think pieces about how refreshing it was to see a sex tape that seemed genuinely candid, to even longer think pieces about the death of privacy. Though Fin's favourites had been the ones that pretended to be outraged that the clip was so short, and the few who'd been bold enough to reach out and talk to him about it.

In the end, loathe though he was to admit it, Crowley had been right. Owning it, in this case, had worked in his favour. The press and public were, for the most part, taking it quite well, and other than a few jokes on morning radio and late night telly, he'd come out unscathed. ...In fact, it had even opened a few doors for him. Over the past few days a few scripts had landed on his desk that he was positive he'd have never seen a week ago. Racier roles, roles that, for a change, didn't only cast him as straight. 

Sure, he didn't want to fall into a pigeon hole of only playing gay men, but... Well, he couldn't say he wasn't eager to play a part where he'd be a bit more himself in some way.

It was all very freeing, and he was in a better mood than usual as he loitered outside his favourite club, smoking a cigarette and enjoying the cool night air.

(Find Fin outside any club. If you're feeling spicy, it can be a fetish club, if you're feeling tame, just a normal club. XD)
faizel: (worry)
[personal profile] faizel
It was chilly out that evening, not cold, but cool enough that Faizel had pulled on his favourite long and sweeping overcoat. The dark emerald green stood out against the rich tone of his skin, and the deep burgundy of his shirt. Each step he took offered a flash of the green and gold brocade lining, and together contributed to the very distinct look the young wizard leaned towards. A careful mesh of what was familiar, and what passed as 'normal' in the mortal realm.

He'd paused to get coffee and a pastry in a small cafe, and though he was attempting to decide which delight to call his dinner, his gaze kept drifting to a fair haired boy near the front of the queue. He was petite, with bright blue eyes and short, white blonde hair. ...And Faizel was certain he knew him.

Their eyes locked briefly, and it seemed that they each made the connection at the same time.

"Winter," he gasped, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

The pixie was already moving though, leaving his place in line and rushing out the door, causing Faizel to do the same.

"No, Winter! Wait," the wizard pleaded, chasing after the spry creature.

He could have used his magic to end the chase in an instant, but the last thing he wanted to do was spook the pixie any more than he already had. He understood well why he would run, but wished he would stop for just a moment and allow him to speak.

When he turned the corner, the pixie was gone.

"Winter, please... If you're here- Just come out. I only wish to talk. I don't mean you any harm."

(OTA! Winter can still be there and hiding if you'd like, or the pixie can be long gone. You can have had your pup have seen Faizel chasing him, or simply find him in the alley. It's up to you! Also, DW isn't sending me notifications still, so I might be slow.)
finlay_flynn: (pensive and beardy)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
He'd been working on the book since just after he'd lost his vision, and after a few re-writes and a lot of changes in his life, it was finally finished, and there was finally a release date and cover art.  On May 17th Fin's book, The Rough Spark would be released, with a short book tour that would follow. 

Tonight, however, was just about celebrating its completion and the impending printing, and Finlay had rented a large hall and invited all his friends, and his friends friends, to come and celebrate- And hopefully get the word out.

A large poster hung on the back wall, displaying the cover art they'd finally settled on. It wasn't flashy, but Fin felt it was a good fit, a single shattered light bulb with one tiny ember still burning inside. The party had a dark industrial feel to it's décor, but like any celebration it was also full of food, music, and drink.

(OTA. It's Fin's party, but treat it as you would any GP! Also, feel free to assume your pup received an invitation somehow, either via a friend or from fin himself.)


Mar. 16th, 2016 11:09 pm
winter_wisp: (:|)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
Lately Winter was out and about again, enjoying London and absorbing the culture- Well, the pop culture anyway. His outfits grew louder and more outragious each day it seemed, and the music he played grew thumpier and trendier every week. 

Tonight, however, the pixie was dressed down, wearing mostly black as he loitered outside a shop that offered piercings and tattoos. He was itching for one of each, wanting to fit in more with the mortal youths he danced with every night. To look more like the faces he saw in magazines and online. 

He wanted to be different from his kin, by being more like the mortals. ...And yet here he stood, unsure and nervous, unable to take that first step through the door.


Mar. 10th, 2016 09:45 pm
thenorthman: (Default)
[personal profile] thenorthman
When Eric had decided to take over the Blood Diamond, he hadn't been certain whether changes would have to be made. It was perfect as it stood, it turned out. The club sprawled on two floors, and the second floor was full of nooks and crannies meant for a few minutes' privacy. In another life, it might have been a sex club, and while Eric would be surprised if none of those small corners were ever used for that purpose, their main function was... blood donation.

And humans loved it. The change in owner was so smooth it hardly phased them, aside from a couple of Clark's pets, but humans as a whole came to the club as numerous as usual. Some of them knew what they were walking into, and came specifically seeking out vampires, while others simply thought it was a gothic place and came for the atmosphere. It worked perfectly, and Eric could only applaud the previous owner for his ingenuity.

Not that the previous owner would appreciate that, seeing as he would soon meet the true death at Eric's hand. An Authority-approved kill, fortunately.

That night, like most nights, found Eric anonymously having a drink at the bar, keeping an eye on the going-ons of the club. Now and then, he made a visit to the second floor, simply checking on things, or stepped outside for the same reason. And when he felt hungry, he turned to the nearest person at the bar and simply smiled at them, a charming, inviting sort of smile, with just a hint of danger thrown in.

After decades spent running that fucking video store, the Blood Diamond was the perfect reprieve.

OOC: Find him anywhere in or outside the club! I'll grab you in Slack if it starts looking like he might glamour your character, so we can talk it out.
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.


Jan. 19th, 2016 12:46 am
jageskro: (my long hair says fuck you)
[personal profile] jageskro
It was like an itch you knew you weren't supposed to scratch. A lot of things had become clearer to Jag, about himself, since he'd watched Hex's videos, and somehow, the closer it came to the time Val would be back, the more Jag wanted to give in to his 'old' habits and do something really stupid. Start a bar in a fight with an arsehole or two, and get hurt.

It was as far from healthy as he could get, he realised, and that was why he hadn't started a bar fight in over a month now. He was in a bar right now, having a pint and trying to resist the desire to walk over to the bastards in the booth right behind him. Their racist, homophobic conversation wasn't making it easy on him. He was waiting for the misogyny to make an appearance, really. He'd barely touched his pint in the last ten minutes and was gnawing on his thumb's nail, feet propped on his bar stool, one leg bouncing.


Jan. 18th, 2016 06:06 pm
winter_wisp: (:/)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
It had taken some time for Winter to grow bold enough to leave the flat again, and even now he stayed quite near the flat, sitting in a cafe that Fin had taken him to a few times and sipping the largest latte they had. It was gingerbread, apparently. Winter thought it tasted like comfort.

The pixie had taken a seat near the window, lost in an oversized armchair and reading a book someone had left behind. A mortal tale about a detective who seemed to solve mysteries for 'dames'. Great dames, Winter assumed, since he was always talking about how long this one's legs were.

Great dames were, apparently, saucier than Winter had thought, and were also prone to having their husbands shot.

"Bad dog," Winter tutted, turning the page and then lowering his book to glance at his drink.

Fascinating as the story was, Winter found himself constantly glancing about- As if expecting someone to attack. His heart fluttered every time someone passed his table, and his drink was always supervised. ...That's how they got you, the bad mortals. That's what he'd learned. They poisoned your drink with potions to make your forget and to sleep. ...These monsters who looked just like all the other mortals, impossible to spot. They were sneaky and they were everywhere- And Winter was sure it was only a matter of time before another attacked.


Jan. 9th, 2016 04:11 pm
wandandawolf: (Default)
[personal profile] wandandawolf
Not for the first time in his life, Remus got up and looked at London. The Ministry had arranged for a stipend and an apartment in town: and with typical Ministry efficiency and precision had gotten him a flat in one of the new developments in Docklands, not far from Canary Wharf. It was the sort of thing that most people would be fighting over in an auction and the Ministry thought it wasn't 'too flash' because most of their maps of Muggle London dated from the 1860s.

So in the morning, Remus had a cup of tea, some fruit with yoghurt from the fridge, and simply sat on the couch in a dressing gown and enjoyed the view. The city spread out below into the distance: he could see grey city block after grey block, with the London Eye and Westminister tucked in behind the Eye, and the Thames winding through the landscape. It was all so different, and every morning, it was all so present. Sirius would have loved exploring it, until he got bored, and Lily and James would have taken Harry to all the museums, and - no.

Not for the first time of late, Remus felt a stranger in his own town. So after breakfast, he did his usual: he showered, slapped on some clothes, and prowled the streets a little with his wand tucked away safely. He had a notebook with him, and a pencil, with a list of all the shops and places he remembered from 1980, and he was slowly working through and crossing most of them off....

A wizard-friendly jewelers his father had liked to used was still trading, and the son-of-the-father who had served Remus' father remembered him. But all Remus could think about there was his mother's wedding ring, and the little locket he'd bought Lily and the spells he'd bound into it, and so he walked on.

In the other pocket of his tweed jacket, he had a battered copy of Milton. There wasn't much to do with his days other than park himself at a cafe and read, nursing a pot of cooling tea for hours. He had to decide something at some point, he knew he did. Just not yet.

It had been a bustling Friday, for all the sharpness of the wind: Londoners out and about, tourists thronging the pavement, a mix of scents and sounds to assault the senses. Easier to stick his nose in a book and shut it all out.

The evening crept up on him gradually, and Remus curled the thick scarf he had around his neck, jamming a flat cap on and tugging on some gloves. They only lasted until he found the nearest pub, a hive and dive of pretty young things doing what pretty young things did best. Standing at the bar, he perused the liquors on display, before selecting something that looked a vile yellow. He didn't easily get drunk thanks to a certain enhanced constitution, but trying to get absolutely wasted had more appeal these days than it used to.

"Augh," was his reaction: it was sickly-sweet and so, so strong. "That is absolutely vile, and I will definitely have another." He grinned at the person next to him, a little manic, a little too desperate to be joyous: "Would you like to join me?" Money was not a problem. Company was.

[Have a Remus. Feel free to meet him anywhere on his journey: bump into him on the street, find him at a cafe, or chat to him in a pub. Most supernatural types should tell he's a lycanthrope wizard a mile away.]

ota c:

Jan. 2nd, 2016 01:08 pm
pixiesweat: (very angry)
[personal profile] pixiesweat
It was over a year now since his sister had died. Time had slowed right down and he had nothing to do but count the days as they dragged by. A year and one day, a year and two days, three, four... All the pain and anger that had settled a little over the last year was dredged back up, till he was filled with grief and rage so fierce he felt like he might choke on it.

He hadn’t been back to his flat for the past couple of days. Its warmth and tidiness had started to feel more and more wrong. There was plenty of space for him there, much more than he was used to, but he’d felt suddenly that he didn’t fit. Once it got to the point that he was about to start punching holes in the walls, he’d slammed the door behind himself and left.

People couldn’t stop celebrating. It had been Christmas, then the new year. Some of them couldn’t get over it and were still going. He couldn’t stand it. More than once he’d lost his cool and glared daggers at strangers who’d done nothing except be happy.

He ducked into an alleyway to hide when dawn came and killed his magic. He recast his human disguise as soon as he could, then fell asleep right there, slumped behind a dumpster that stank of rotting food. It was still day when he woke up. He didn’t know what time it was, and he didn’t care. His hair was tangled, he had dirt smudged on his face, and there was a tension in his shoulders and a blankness in his eyes that hadn’t been there a week ago. He stared into nothing for a moment, then got up and half walked, half staggered back onto the street. Quite possibly straight into somebody else’s path.
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.


Dec. 28th, 2015 01:31 pm
melehan: (Gesicht)
[personal profile] melehan
It was the holidays, and Melehan was almost ready for another day spent doing absolutely nothing sensible or useful. There was just one more thing he needed.

He was leaning against the front wall of a bakery with his phone in one hand, tapping and swiping at the screen, pretending it held his interest while he occasionally glanced up at the strangers passing him on the street. His pockets were stuffed full with outrageous amounts of cash. All he needed now was a kind, money-hungry soul with ID who could help him with a very serious problem.

He was only sixteen. The bakery was next door to a bottle shop, and he really, really needed some vodka.

A lot of people didn’t look like they would be much help. Some weren’t any older than he was; others had headphones in and either wouldn’t hear or wouldn’t care if he spoke to them. Some just didn’t seem like good candidates. As funny as it would be to try to convince somebody’s grandma to buy alcohol for him, it wasn’t very likely to work.

He was in a good mood, not at all concerned that he wouldn’t end up successful. He was rich enough to bribe even the most moral and upstanding citizens. And if that didn’t work, he could always whine at them until they gave in and did what he wanted.

Waiting was starting to get boring, though. Maybe an evil, law-breaking type would walk past soon. Or maybe he’d just pick somebody, no matter how unlikely they looked, and see how far he had to go to persuade them. It was good to challenge yourself sometimes, after all.

Either way, it would be more interesting than leaning against a brick wall.

All relevant info for this new pup can be found at his wiki page here and my post in the ooc comm here. I know people are likely to be a bit busy with holiday and new year stuff atm so late tags are quite welcome <3 Also, Melehan is a terrible brat and I'm not sorry >:D
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!)
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!)


Nov. 20th, 2015 04:40 pm
miss_ives: (a careful process)
[personal profile] miss_ives
Ever since Halloween - or, more precisely, the very first seconds of November 1st - Vanessa hadn't been quite herself. These sorts of moods usually lasted a night, a day, two at most, but she had been off for a couple of weeks now. She felt perfectly all right, herself, but there was a streak of viciousness in her that was much closer to the surface than usual, and she spent most of her free time in bars and clubs, finding men to use and discard.

She'd barely touched the tarot since, despite the fact that her dreams plagued her with images she could never quite remember. And she remembered, all too well, the portrait of the man in the stone room. A Devil in his own right, but who was he? She remembered, too, the feel of the words she had flung at Mina. She was certain her dreams were full of her, but she ignored them. Something was changing, something was coming for her, something had started, and all she could do was try to rush towards it.

Friday night, she hit the streets dressed in a black dress which felt like an invitation to look, but not touch, not unless she allowed it. Her hair fell in loose waves on her shoulders and her make-up only made her already striking eyes pop all the more. She was perched on a pair of high heeled black velvet pumps she had no trouble walking in, and wrapped in a warm black coat to ward off the cold. In fact, given the monotone of her wardrobe and her natural colouring, the blue of her eyes and the red of her lipstick were the only spots of colour on her.

She walked down the streets as if daring anyone to stop her, hands in the pockets of her coat, watching the people she ran across in the street and looking at pubs and clubs, waiting for that feeling in her guts telling her to try this or that one. There was a self-confidence and an aura of uncompromising sexuality about her that tended to draw gazes to her, but hers passed on most people without pausing.

Feel free to run into her in the street, or at any pub/bar/club of your choosing. And if the character you're throwing at her is sensitive to supernatural happenings, let's chat ooc!


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London Calling RPG

June 2017

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