londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Fin and Will had rented out the entirety of the theatre where Fin had gotten his big break, then brought in staff to deck the pace out in holiday cheer. The centrepiece was a grand looking tree that stood centre stage, with a DJ set up to the left, and Santa to the right, who was taking photos and handing out this year's goodie bags. Some of the seating had been removed to make room for dancing and food, but the balcony remained as it always was, for people to rest and get a good view of the celebrations below.

No expense had been spared, but it was, overall, a causal affair. Those who weren't competing in the ugly jumper contest were asked to dress tidy, but comfortably, so they could enjoy the festivities of the evening. From the music and food, to the affordable bar and little area set up to fill out cards and make donations for the local children's hospital.

Invites had been sent to their friends and loved ones, and inside each invite they'd tucked a few more so their friends could invite their friends also.

All and all, it was set to be a wonderful night.
winter_wisp: (wicked creature)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
It was his birthday. ...Not the exact date, but the time when things had aligned in a way that had made the pixie what he was. He was Winter, and so today was his day. Sure, he shared it with plenty of others, but that didn't make it any less his.

He'd never really celebrated it though, not since he'd been terribly small. ...Smaller than usual, that is. However, this year felt like the year, this was the right time, he could feel it in his bones. He needed to celebrate, and to throw the biggest party any pixie had ever thrown. From the tree-house and through the park, there were decorations no one could explain, and music coming from a band that always seemed to be 'just a bit that way' or 'just a ways over there', impossible to find, and yet somehow everywhere..

And then there were the special guests, his friends from back home, each had been sent an invite, along with just enough potion to help them pass for mortal for the day. Though how well they passed seem to vary. Many arrived in the clothes they always wore, dresses woven from petals, shirts made of leaves... Magic was everywhere, coaxing life from sleeping trees and leaving the weather in a tizzy, from warm, to snowy, then back again. It was an only barley controlled bit of chaos, but Winter didn't mind, he was surrounded by friends and had no reason to do anything but smile. 

(OTA, use this like any GP. Feel free to assume your pup was invited or are just happening upon the chaos. Also, feel free to have the pixie magic effect your pup or the world around them as you see fit, just remember it's mischievous and lighthearted, not dark or destructive.)
goodfellow: (Default)
[personal profile] goodfellow
As much as Robin had enjoyed being in New York with Prometheus, he'd grown restless. And now that he was back in London, he realized how much this really did seem like his home now. He loved the city, he loved running the club. He even appreciated the friends that he had here, as much as he still attempted to keep them at arm's length.

Tonight, he made the rounds at Saturnalia dressed in an impeccable plum colored suit with a silver cashmere scarf hanging from his neck. He was already planning for a New Year's Eve party to celebrate the anniversary of that first "unofficial" opening of the club. Perhaps he could make it even better this time.

He was carrying a bottle of good champagne, still cold, and occasionally stopped those with empty glasses (of anything) and offered to refill them. Though now, he tipped his head back and poured some into his mouth before wiping it and looking pleased with himself.
lcrpg_npc: (night)
[personal profile] lcrpg_npc
The repurposed railway arches that housed Beagle's bar and restaurant were decked in shades of black: black christmas trees glittering with sparkly and satiny black ornaments, black wreaths with perfectly tied bows, black garlands draping along the walls and bar, ribbons edging the long banquet benches in the restaurant dining room. A gentle snow seemed to fall from the ceiling, a specially designed lighting effect much more pleasant than the cold and wet that would've accompanied real snow. Christmas music played over hidden speakers, setting the mood without interfering with conversation.

The Kraken Black Christmas feast was a different spin on the holiday than you'd find most places, and yet, a christmas feast all the same. All the flavors of the season were there, both in the bar's specialty cocktails and in the feast itself, served banquet-style to those fortunate enough to get tickets - mulled wine, egg nog, roasts and stuffing and puddings, and so much more. Yet the food and drinks all shared the same theme as the decor, shades of black augmented with squid ink, charcoal, or black sesame seeds.

Guests had been encouraged to continue the theme with black festive attire, but it wasn't required, and spots of color could be found here and there along the table or mingling in the bar. There was one thing everyone could agree on, though. No matter how black the theme, the mood was anything but dark.

Mini GP

Nov. 30th, 2016 07:41 pm
hollow_moon: (blue shade)
[personal profile] hollow_moon
It was that time of the year, a time that used to fill Valentine with joy. Christmas was so wonderful usually, after all, but not so much this year. He simply wasn't in the holiday spirit. However, he'd planned this charity event months ago, and there was no cancelling it now. 

It wasn't as flash as ones he'd held in prior years, his museum open to the public with collection buckets all over for people to give what they could to ensure a better holiday for those in need. Music filled the space, and there were performers all throughout the space. Yes, he'd had to up security for the evening to keep his many occult related items safe, but- Well, it was worth it, he supposed. If nothing else, it seemed to be enough to stop his mother from worrying so much about him for a bit.

All were welcome and admission was free. The bar was reasonably priced, and there were a few free nibbles donated by a local restaurant. All and all, not a bad night for the bored and the generously inclined.

(Use this like you'd use any GP! OTA)

Foxy - OTA

Nov. 21st, 2016 11:10 pm
finlay_flynn: (fox - srs)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
There were still no textbooks or youtube videos on how to fairy, and so Fin was still learning by doing. Sometimes he would do his best to focus on something, like reviving wilted flowers or forcing the wrinkles out of his bed sheets. Other times he'd try slightly harder things, like changing an item into another item- Something he hadn't yet mastered, but at least had a grasp on the basics now.

He played with elements, toyed with using his magic to tidy up or take notes for him. Nothing huge, nothing grand. It was a slow build after all.

Occasionally, however, he let his magic lead. It was a part of him, yes, but just as his mind was prone to wandering and building worlds for him to jot down on paper, his magic had a tendency to- Create. An extension of his imagination, he assumed, and he often let it lead as he created small items from ice, or even repainted a whole room with idle thoughts. It was remarkable, the things he could do with little more than a spare thought and a vague grasp on his powers. Will was right, he was powerful. He understood now why the other fae had feared them.

Today he was simply laying on the sofa, a pen taking notes by itself on a pad of paper nearby while he drew random patterns in the air with the tip of his finger. He was working on a pitch for a mini series, something prompted by a friend at the network, but his mind was dancing between ideas, and his magic was, for a lack of a better word, getting a bit bored it seemed. Or, perhaps he was bored and just didn't want to admit it.

The pen slowed, then stopped, and Fin closed his eyes as he sighed softly.

"Perhaps I should leave this all behind, go live in the woods on the Other Side, to be a wild thing like my kin," he mused. "You could come, if you like," he told Keats, opening one eye and looking over at the German Sheppard. The dog simply yawned though, then settled back in to finish his nap.

"No? Alright then. I'll just live alone then. Or, perhaps I'll live with Winter's pixie friends," he joked, smiling as his mind wandered to thoughts of thick forest like areas, wild flowers and strange stones. The many wonders of the world that was apparently his true home. The memories of his brief time there made his magic long for it- Or, again, perhaps it was just him. His secret desires, the needs of his blood. Whatever it was, it was powerful, and as Fin slowly got to his feet and headed for the private rooftop garden for a smoke, he felt something shift inside of him- Then outside.

It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, yes, he was suddenly small and a touch fluffy, but the sudden shift from human to fox had been painless- Pleasant, even. So much so that Fin had simply gone along with it. It was just more of his magic after all, harmless enough it seemed... At first.

Three hours later, and Fin was still a fluffed up white fox. He'd managed to get back inside the flat, but no matter what he tried, he couldn't seem to make himself human again. He was sure part of that was due to how worked up he'd gotten himself when his first attempt had failed, but now- Now he couldn't seem to calm down at all.

He'd gone looking for Will first, but the other fae was clearly out, and using a phone as a fox was a lost cause. Even if he could have dialled a number, he was struggling to speak. All he managed were some odd purrs and sharp sounds. Nothing intelligible. Clearly he would have to seek out help elsewhere. ...Perhaps Phouka and Winter might help, though they were quite a way away, and he really didn't think any Uber driver in their right mid would pick him up.

Well, a walk wouldn't be so bad. ...Not if he stayed hidden, right?

He'd barely made it three blocks before he'd been spotted, and he was currently cowering in an alley while a rather large and unpleasant man was attempting to whack him with the blunt end of a broom.

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,
he thought, unaware that anyone passing by with magic ability or sensitivities could hear him loud and clear.

(OTA. I was going to put this up on Thanksgiving since I'm off all day, but figured there was no harm in tossing it up early. ^_^ If you think your pup could hear Fin's magic telepathic chatter, be my guest. Or if you just want to save a fluffy fox, feel free! As always, late tags and slowtime are welcome.)

Debut

Nov. 17th, 2016 01:12 am
old_man_gavril: (Default)
[personal profile] old_man_gavril
It had felt good to clean the place up, he had to admit. His little excursion to Ireland had been, well, quite lovely. He thought of maybe adding a hint of Ireland to the menu, but he wasn't sure how to, yet. Serving up burgers, chips, steaks, potatoes, and fresh-baked rolls seemed to have him fairly satisfied. Maybe diversifying the taps would be a better touch...

To be fair, though, Gavril liked it simple. The pub itself was a rustic thing with a hint of Scandinavia; scrimshaw-covered wooden columns flanked the bar, carefully dusted off since his return. The wooden surfaces of the bar and the tables had been polished with love, the iconic, wooden wolf's head carving above the bar was dusted and cleaned as well.

It had been a few years since he'd stepped out to Ireland, traveling by foot from north to south, living off the land, the hospitality of others, and with what little money he'd taken with him. It had been, frankly, quite rejuvenating. And now he was ready to get back to business.

The friendly “We're Open” sign of carved oak and ash hung happily in the window, and the chalkboard outside announced Wolf's Head's reopening as well. The place wasn't bustling, and Gavril preferred to keep it low-key, especially since it was just him, for now, running things. But he was okay with that. And he was okay with being back in London.

With any luck, he'd be speaking to a few applicants as well; he'd placed an advertisement in the paper, and any visitors would see the black-and-orange plastic 'Help Wanted' sign that Gavril had picked up from a store and stuck in the corner of the door. He didn't want to run Wolf's Head on his own, but he could manage for now. It wasn't like the place was swarming, or anything.
londoncallingmods: (spoops)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
The weather today had been fairly pleasant, a mostly sunny day wedged between fairly grey ones. It wasn't warm, but the chill was minimal for this time of year, and there wasn't a drop of rain in sight. As night crept in, however, the streets slowly faded from sun kissed and painted in autumnal colours, to foggy and damp. An odd thing, really, since the forecast had predicted a clear and pleasant night.

It wasn't normal fog either, it was denser, thicker, and it carried an distinct scent, like cinnamon sugar and chestnuts. It was so thick it seemed to drain the streets of their colour, leaving the wold desaturated and grey. More importantly, anyone with a bit of magic in them would sense, quite quickly, that it wasn't of this world. It crackled quietly with power, dark and heavy. Unfriendly.

It was around nine pm that the local police stations began to receive calls, things they assumed were pranks at first, but soon began rolling in so quickly and frequently that it seemed something more was afoot. The evening news spoke of mass hysteria, warning people to stay indoors. Conspiracy blogs were lit up with chatter of chemical warfare, and some 'airborne drug'. There were reports of people seeing everything from long dead loved ones, to killer clowns.

Though despite the nervous chattering of talking heads and twitter addicts, most people were paying the supposed danger no mind. Clubs and bars on every block were blasting music and throwing costume parties, people were out with friends, wandering the streets and looking for a fun time. It may have been Monday, but that didn't seem to be stopping many people from enjoying the holiday.  

For the most part, everything seemed fine. ...The crowds and groups remained oblivious to the danger of the fog. ...It was only those who slipped off on their own, to have a quick smoke, to get some air or head home early. They were the ones in danger, they were the ones who's darkest fears seemed to emerge from the thick fog. 

Around 10pm, reports started to come in regarding a body found in Whitechapel, cut open wide and left to bleed out. No prints at the scene, no signs that anyone else had even been there. The CCTV footage had somehow been rendered useless, glitched out and blurred. A trouble echoed by every other security camera on the street. It was enough to set twitter and the internet off all over again, with talk of how the things seen in the fog might, somehow, be real.

(Happy Halloween! The fog is bringing fears and spoops to life! You can make the creatures and fabrications of the fog as personal or general as you like. Whatever works best to spook your pup. If, for any reason, you don't want your pup to see any spooks, that's totally fine too. It's not a required plot. Unlike last year, this time around the creepy things your pup might see can harm them and do real damage. Though they will vanish in the morning. If your pup is sensitive to magic in any way, they might sense that this magic is distinctly fae. If you have questions about what you can or can't do, just ask in slack! Though really, the only limit here is your imagination. Remember to check with other players before doing anything that might seriously hurt their pup, ect, ect, and have fun!)
finlay_flynn: (throwing shade)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
It had taken quite a bit of time, but Fin was slowly learning how to focus his magic to make his vision clearer. It was odd, he'd spent so much time using massive amounts of energy and focus in an attempt to make it work- And yet, in the end, it had been his calm that aided him best. The more relaxed he was, the more at ease he became with his magic, the better his vision became. 

So he'd taken a new approach to it all, practicing his magic alone in a quiet space. He spent hours just feeling it out, learning to flex it like a muscle and curl it like a finger. It had been remarkably simple once he'd learned to treat it like any other limb, and while he was no master yet, today he was out without his cane or sunglasses. His eyes still slightly milky, but focused. It wasn't perfect, a bit like seeing under water, to be honest, but it was <i>something</i>, and it was empowering to have his sight back and under his control.

He'd been all over town this morning, but for lunch he'd settled down outside a favourite pub, a pint by his elbow and a plate of chips in front of him for his lunch. At first he'd just been people watching, but after a few minutes a rather plump, and easily recognizable budgie landed on his table, chatting at him and hopping a bit.

"Hello Philip," he said, breaking one of his chips in half and offering it to the bird. The budgie peeped in approval, and Fin grinned as he watched the tiny animal devour the salty nibble. Such a simple sight, and yet it was wonderful to be able to enjoy it. "You'll explode one of these days," he tutted at the bird, pressing his fingers together and using his magic to construct a tiny little crown. It was light and thin, but it looked like gold. 

"There you are, King Philip, slayer of worms," he said softly, placing the tiny crown on Winter's beloved bird's head. Philip clearly approved, and preened a little- Before looking annoyed when the crown slipped off his head and turned into little more than gold dust.
pippa_flynn: (Sister and Brother)
[personal profile] pippa_flynn
"It would just be for a month, two at most. I haven't said yes yet, but- I think I should. I mean, how often am I going to get offers like this, Pip?"

He'd meant to tell Pippa his plan to travel to America over lunch, but things had been going so well, and they'd been having such a nice time of it. He just hadn't wanted to spoil it, and so they were lingering on the pavement, having been about to call for an uber when Fin had blurted out the fact that he'd been offered a small role in a major motion picture.

"A month or two? Fin, that's ridiculous! You can't. America is dangerous. And you know how it is right now with the election and all the shootings. No. No, I'm putting my foot down on this. you can't go," she said. Of course it was fueled by deep concern- she was so protective of Fin- but she dug her heels in on this and it didn't come off as worry, it just came off as bossy.

"I wasn't asking permission," Fin replied flatly. "See, this is why I didn't want to tell you. You always think you know what's best. You always have"

Fin didn't know it, but the sudden spike of anger he felt was enough to make his already wild magic strike out- Not at Pippa, but at the world. Though he wasn't so angry that it did any real damage. ...Instead it simply turned all the traffic lights in a four block radius red.

"It's only because I do know what's best," she huffed, her own magic reacting in response to his, twisting together with Fin's to amplify it. Traffic snarled and even the crossing lights stalled out, too. The wifi in the nearby cafe cut out.

"I'm just worried about you, Fin. This isn't the time for such a big change," she said.

Fin frowned, raking his fingers through his long hair. "Pip... It's not up to you, alright? I'm not asking, I'm just letting you know. I'm thinking I might do it, alright?" he replied, his tone growing sharper.

"This is stupid. Fin, please be rational about this. If nothing else, what about that fae fuck? You'll get sick again!" she insisted.

(Joint post with Fin and Pippa. If you'd prefer to tag just one put the name in your subject line XD)
willysilver: (Smile Blue)
[personal profile] willysilver
The Alpha boasted that it was the smallest bar in all of London, a point that was hotly contested by many other hole-in-the-wal bars around the city. It was a friendly rivalry and as with people's prefered football clubs, their pefered tiny bars caused some chaos from time to time.

Tonight wasn't that sort of night. Tonight Willy Silver, back from a long illness, took the stage with his guitar and a bassist and drummer and rocked the night. Of course his magic was back in full strength and the mortals had no knowledge that with the power of his music came the enchantment that made them joyful, free with tipping, and drinking more than they should.

In the crowd tonight there was a familiar face to some. Hex sat at the bar sipping a Coke on ice. He was Willy's to command for a year and a day and though he didn't know why he had been told to be here tonight...and so he was.

Crowley lurked outside, close enough to enjoy the music but just far eough out that he could chainsmoke and wile a bit. Not that his wiling did any good in the face of Willy's feel-good-abracadabra show. But it was worth trying.

And in the back corner, by the loo door, sat a hateful woman who glared at the fae prince the whole time. One day they'd have a conflict but for tonight Pippa just wanted to see what he was about. Her dark mood kept most as far away from her as they could get in the tiny bar.

"We're going to take a break, have a pint, get requests," Willy said from the stage, then the trio put their instruments down and joined the crowd.


[Gathering post to indulge my wanting to thread everyone. But don't just tag mine, tag each other!]
prodigalflame: (shocked by the level of your stupid)
[personal profile] prodigalflame
The Tavern, as it was called, brought to mind images of faded Tudor quaintness: of whitewashed exterior, black beams, windows barred with cast iron, mulled mead and a fireplace in every room.

In truth, the pub was anything but. Located in one of the gentrifying suburbs, it was a modern bulwark of concrete, iron and glass. The first two stories were the pub proper, and the next ten were apartments. The owners had called it 'The Tavern' in a display of hipster pride, as if it was the only pub that mattered. Snaking through the two levels were a series of pipes, as small-scale brewing took place on site.

It was usually a lively sort of pub, populated mostly by the fussy, the well-off, the well-educated and those that aspired to be, although situated near a tube station meant it also got a lot of randoms peering in to grab a pint. The alcohol menu was diverse, the food menu was dominated by various pulled meats and a cheese board (if anyone cared) and there were probably far too many male graduate students with neckbeards who nodded enthusiastically at each other as they discussed Kant.

Still, on Saturday night it was even more bustling than usual. People stood on the stairs, beers in hand, and chatted. Every seat was taken. The wait staff had their hands full (literally), and moved with ease and grace through the throng to deliver food to tables, and collect numbers and plates.

Tonight there would be music. Tonight there would be bands. Tonight was Singles' Night, a guarantee of no sappy love songs, no heart break, no angst. Two local bands were playing: first there would be a set from The Flamethrowers, with a mix of classic rock and pop standards, and then after a break, there would be an electro-synth duo to allow for dancing well past midnight.

So at about 9pm, patrons were treated to the sight of the first band tuning up. There wasn't really a performance space, so much as a corner on the ground floor of the pub that was currently unoccupied by tables. It was a four-piece band: some shaggy-haired cross between hobo and hipster on rhythm guitar and vocals, a slightly older british caribbean guy in glasses with goatee on double bass, a short-haired woman in her mid-20s on percussion and vocals and a tendency to beat the ever-living fuck out of the drum set, and another woman, more long-haired and willowy, on keyboards and vocals. Mr Hobo-Hipster of the shaggy hair and blond tips sang lead most of the time, but he gave it up for each of the women through their eleven song set, and there were duets. The keyboard was set to produce a more honky-tonk piano sound, and combined with the double bass, most of the covers had a dirty feel to them, all loose chords and guitar slaps. Clearly they'd played together for long enough to have a good feel for each other, which just added to the looseness, the occasional digression or ad hoc solo.

And Mr Hobo-Hipster didn't so much as introduce the band members as say "Hey. We're the Flamethrowers" and then let his guitar speak for itself as they launched into a funked-up version of Money. His voice was a little rough, almost a growl, and his stage presence was contained but not muted. Even without posturing, John made it very clear that he was the driving force behind the band: he didn't preen or strut, he didn't need to, and only the hint of a smirk could be seen around his eyes. There was no grinning, not now: now he was controlled and contained and came off a little bit contemptuous of having to perform. He sang, sure, and he played, and played pretty well, but his focus were the frets of his guitar, the lyrics of the songs. That night, he was sleek and dangerous and full of pride. That night, he had no reasons to smile or grin or show how happy he was: he'd lost those along the way. He was pared back to his disdainful core. Overall, the band was good but not great, and with John being Intense, the performance probably came off somewhere between 'bluesy rock band' and 'satanic death cult'.

Grooving through the set-list for roughly 45 minutes, the Flamethrowers played a series of stripped-back, funked-up covers. Rock the Casbah. a slowed-down take on Time after Time. Versions of Dangerous and Sweet Dreams (are made of this) that were dominated by the keyboards and a sparse double bass. Everybody Wants to Rule the World. John's wry grin came out for a guitar driven, lazy run on Carole King's "It's Too Late", before he paused to finally introduce the band, have some water, and explain that the point was to avoid the melancholic and romantic: to not make anyone feel bad for being single.

Four more songs, and they then closed with Mama Told Me Not To Come, having meandered their way past some INXS, Living End and Lynyrd Skynyrd.

In the end, John thanked the band (again), thanked everyone for showing up, and hoped they passed the audition. As a nicety, he promised there would now be some 'music you can dance to' after a little break, and then disappeared to pack up his guitar and amp and find himself a drink and a quiet corner.

The night went on without him, and that was just fine.

[OOC: Saturday night at an upmarket pub and destination of note. Feel free to show up before, during or after the band. Complain about the noise, the locally brewed artisan beer, the hipster food, the even more hipster band, or just dance the night away.]

OTA

Sep. 9th, 2016 06:34 pm
im_torchwood: (Default)
[personal profile] im_torchwood
Jack had been working on a very special project for the past year. He was going to figure out how to pull something through the rift in Cardiff if it killed him...again. He'd had some success with hooking his vortex manipulator to the Hub tech, but it wasn't enough. He needed the resources of Torchwood at Canary Wharf and so back to London he came.

And when he got here he'd made a command decision and had 'enlisted' some help. It had been easy. Easier than he'd dreamed. And now he had the help he needed for the small price of sharing tech.

Today found him taking a break and he took a stroll through the park at dusk, just as the lights were coming on and the temperature was dropping. He loved autumn. He loved the smell of dying leaves and the bite of rain in the air.

He needed to get back to the lab to see if there was any progress with the dimensional barrier, but for now he stopped at a cart to get himself a cup of chai to sip on the way back to his rig.

ota

Sep. 5th, 2016 09:52 pm
finlay_flynn: (pensive)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
He wasn't terribly musical, if he was honest. He could sing, and he'd written lyrics for Will in the past, but when it came to instruments, he knew little. His piano was poor, his attempts at drumming when he was younger had been a failure, but he could play a bit on the guitar. It was a skill he was attempting to improve as he sat beneath a tree in the park, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he strummed to himself.

Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, and Keats lay nearby, keeping watch as much as he was keeping Fin company. A few stray chords settled into a familiar song, and Fin hummed a bit before removing the cigarette from his lips and starting to sing.

"The door slammed loud and rose up a cloud of dust on us. Footsteps follow, down through the hollow sound, torn up... And you will go to Mykonos, with a vision of a gentle coast, and a sun to maybe dissipate. Shadows of the mess you made..."

He fumbled a bit, swearing under his breath as he strummed a bit more, jumping ahead in the song.

"I remember how they took you down, as the winter turned the meadow brown. You go, wherever you go today..."

He made it through the rest of the verse before fumbling again and starting over, pausing to stub out his cigarette and give it a proper try this time.

OTA

Aug. 31st, 2016 07:03 am
pippa_flynn: (Flower)
[personal profile] pippa_flynn
And so she had become the Forgotten Queen of the Trooping Fae. Her grandfather's passing had come at a price and now she was some sort of royalty she didn't quite understand and Fin had gone blind again. It was nearly too much to take but Pippa was carrying on. What else could she do? The facts were the facts and no amount of fuss would change it. And she'd tried. She had power coursing through her now, all the time she felt it, and she'd tried to restore Fin's sight. It didn't work. Of course not. Why would it?

And then the dumb twit had gone back to stay with his stupid boyfriend. Pippa was outraged about that and she'd told Fin so. And that didn't work, either. Of course not. And so on that front she bit her tongue. Fin knew how she felt. It had little to do with keeping him close and everything to do with keeping him out of the treacherous prince's arms.

Pippa sighed softly and looked at her mobile that had just chirped. He newest client wanting a progress report. She needed something more concrete and so she sat down at the cafe on one of the dwindling nice days of the London summer, and she texted her client back.

It was striking, just how much she looked like Fin. And, of course, she'd been all over the papers thanks to the paps hounding Fin about his drug use and his blindness. The gentleman at the next table actually had a copy of the daily rag and she smiled at the photo on the cover.

If only life could be as dramatic as the paper made it seem. If only being queen meant something...
winter_wisp: (coffee iz mine)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
Since deciding they needed their own place, it felt as though all Winter and Phouka had done was look at flats. Big flats, small flats, ugly flats, flashy flats... So many flats that Winter was fairly certain that if he never had to look at another 'recently renovated' bathroom again, he could die a happy pixie.

The worst part was that none of them, not one, felt right. They were all so boxy, so cold and dull. Even the ones with 'character' felt hollow and lifeless. No wonder fae Willy was wilting when he spent so long surrounded by mundane mortal aesthetics. 

It was a walk through Hyde Park that had changed everything. Winter had been thinking about his home back in the village, the mushroom he'd turned into a home with the help of his magic. ...If he could turn a mushroom into a home while he was small, surely he could make a tree a home while he was big. ...Especially now that he'd matured a bit more.

And so that was how they'd wound up here, a tree in Hyde park that was now their home. It was perfect, in Winter's opinion, and he and Phouka had taken their time decorating it and filling it with the things they loved. Getting it just right, and ready to be shown off.

The invites had been sent to everyone they could think of, written by hand in silver ink on black paper. 

You're Invited To Our Home!
Time: 8:00
Place: The Largest Tree behind The Serpentine Gallery
Please Bring Gifts
Food And Drink Will Be Provided.
 
Brown Meg had prepared mountains of food, and Winter had gone out and bought as much booze and pop as he could carry. Music filled the tree, but outside it was silent. Winter realised belatedly that he should have mentioned on the invite that to enter the tree you only need to push against the trunk and a door would be revealed to those who were expected or welcome. ...But he was sure people could figure it out.
 
 

(OTA, if you've ever met either of them, or are a friend of a friend, just assume you got an invite! Winter and Phouka will both have top levels, but use this post like any other GP.)

finlay_flynn: (v_v)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
He didn't like how familiar this was, the steady tap of his cane, the weight of sunglasses on his face. He hated how easily his body remembered it all. ...Though this time it was, at least, a little different. It was as if his magic had been prepared for this long before he had. As if it had known what would happen.

As he walked down the street, making his way to the cafe he still preferred to visit when he was writing, his magic offered him a shimmering image of the world around him. Less a vision, more a painting. Some details ignored to simplify the image, others done in almost photo realistic detail. So while he couldn't see the face of the woman who passed him on the left, his magic did show him a newspaper stand nearby. Specifically a tabloid with a headline speculating on his sudden vision loss being tied to drug abuse.

Usually that would have annoyed him, but today he found he didn't care. He'd take being blind over being hunted any day, and the press could think whatever they liked. 

When he reached the cafe he instinctively reached for the door, only to have someone open if for him.

"Oh, thank you," he said, trying to make his magic focus on the face of the person in question.

Linkdump

Aug. 16th, 2016 03:02 pm
finlay_flynn: (Default)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
The Blind Prince and The Forgotten Queen -
 
    Fin and Pippa's grandfather passes, but not before making one last attempt at forging peace between the Seelie, Unseelie, and Trooping fae in a bid to prevent Fin's death. The price is high, but one Fin realizes he knew he had to pay.

OTA

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.
finlay_flynn: (shaggy)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
 
Fin knew he shouldn't be looking at social media right now, that nothing good could come of it, but he couldn't help himself. Seeing the cruel comments roll in was painful, and yet he couldn't look away. He let it claw at him, dragging him down until he was even more numb and broken than he had been.

Closing his laptop, he looked around the cafe, glad that no one seemed terribly interested in him. That was the nice thing about London. Most people were too cool to act like they knew you. It allowed for quiet moments, even out in public, with only a few selfie requests or nasty comments here and there. Today was no different, despite the press. A few extra glances his way, more whispers, but for now things seemed alright. Colder, but alright for now. Though he knew it would only get worse.

Packing up his things, he paid for his tea and headed out onto the street, brushing past a young man who looked him over and muttered something about 'nasty perverts'. A comment Fin chose to ignore as he exhaled softly and continued to walk.

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