londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
The world at large seemed heavier this week, bad news from across the pond drifting over like a bad storm and raining down on the city. Still, stiff upper lip and all that. If London had stopped every time things had seemed bleak, it would have fallen long ago.

And so life went on, as it must. 

The skies were a bit grey and the streets slightly damp, but the Christmas lights were coming on early this year, and Harrods already had the streets lit up with wonder and sparkle. Cafes and bars followed suit, and twinkling lights were everywhere you looked, casting a much needed bit of whimsy and wonder over the stark looking faces that passed by. It was hard to stay grim when children and adults alike seemed so entranced by it all.

There were plenty of events going on as well. From the Lord Mayor's Show or the Dulwich Christmas Bazaar, to the usual concerts, festivities, and even bowling

London may have looked a bit foggy and miserable, but there was pleanty of joy to be found for those who went looking.

(Gathering post! Just a nice mellow post to combat those post election blues, and balance out the drama from Halloween. As always, this post will be open for at least a week, so tag in and check back often to tag others. <3)

OTA

Nov. 9th, 2016 06:47 pm
winter_wisp: ((✿◠‿◠))
[personal profile] winter_wisp
It had been a while since he'd attended a class, but Winter was still dancing in his free time. In fact, today he was dancing, rather than playing music, in the park. He had his speaker nearby, playing soft, classical music from his playlist, and a bucket nearby to collect tips as he danced.

Ballet came naturally to the pixie, and he moved with ease, pushing up on his toes and extending his leg as he twirled. He was so into it that he didn't notice the little bit of magic creeping out from, coating one of the nearby trees in frost. 

The people who stopped to watch simply assumed it was part of the act though, and people smiled brightly as they snapped photos of the fair skinned boy and the shimmering, frost coated tree behind him. Not that Winter was paying any of them much mind, even as they started to drop change in his bucket. No, it wasn't until the song ended and he spotted a familiar face in the crowd that Winter seemed aware of the world around him. Looking a touch pleased with himself, he rocked back on his heels and used his magic to coax a little more cash from the pockets of his fans.

Though the smiles and the smugness weren't quite as genuine as usual. Winter was doing his best to seem his usual self- But the truth was he'd been a bit on edge since Halloween and his encounter with Crowley. He was wary of everyone now he knew how quickly a friend could turn on him.
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)

Debut

Oct. 6th, 2016 08:46 pm
nirav: (Default)
[personal profile] nirav
It was strange not to be travelling all the time. Strange to be settling in. However, London suited him. It felt like a good fit, and he was at ease in the city. He'd found a flat he liked, already had a favourite cafe, a favourite book store... He was comfortable, happy. His only complaint, really, was the lack of inspiration in the scenery.

Honestly, the people of London were, to him, the most interesting thing about it. There was nothing else here that hadn't been photographed a million times before. A few seedy clubs were fun backgrounds, the occasional quirky boutique, but the people? They were the real stars. From the most normal or natural beauties, to the willfully odd and unusual.

They were his subjects, they were the focus of his work lately. Most he snapped from a distance, but now and then there was someone who just stood out too much to be admired from a distance. Not because of their beauty or look- Though that didn't hurt. No, more just because there was something about them that called to his camera. Right now was one of those moments, and this was one of those people.

"Pardon me, but do you mind if I take your photo?" he asked.

(New pup! Nirav wants to take your photo! Check his wiki and then tag right in. XD)
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.]
yves: (brella >_>)
[personal profile] yves
The fair haired sprite had been staring at him for nearly an hour now as Yves had made his way around the little shops. For all the creature had somehow enchanted itself to be of mortal height, there was no denying it was a pixie. Those pointy ears and sweet and spicy scent could be confused for nothing else.

Yves had ignored it at first, wandering through the early morning market and pretending not to notice the way it followed. Even allowing it to get close a few times before turning and staring directly into its pale blue eyes. Strange looking thing, all pale flesh and bone. Clearly underfed in its youth. Likely brittle boned, and unaware of it's poor immune system. Yves would have felt bad for it- If he was in the habit of feeling for lesser beings.

It had skittered off for a bit after that, but he'd spotted it once more when he'd stopped near the end of the market in a quieter area. They were practically alone, some grannies on a bench nearby so busy chatting that they hadn't even noticed they had company. The only people who might see them were those passing down the parallel street on the other side of the road- Though there view would be slightly obscured by the stalls and carts.

"The Unseelie Butcher," The pixie gasped, blue eyes going wide as they confirmed what he'd suspected all morning.

"Dreadful nickname, slanderous as well," Yves replied, sneering a little and removing the creature's charm with a wave of his hand.

Winter was so good at measuring and controlling his potion doses now that he rarely carried any with him, and the moment Yves waved his hand, the fair haired pixie knew he'd made a mistake. ...Perhaps several, if he was honest. Shrunk down to his normal size, Winter darted around in a panic, desperate not to be seen- Only to be snatched out of the air by Yves.

"Go home, pixie, and do not speak any of my names ever again," Yves warned, waiting until Winter nodded before letting him go and watching him zoom off as fast as his shimmering wings would take him.

(OTA- Tag Yves or Winter, only one or the other please! Catch Winter hiding and trying to make his way home, or Yves skulking off back home to his lab.)

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...

OTA

Aug. 29th, 2016 04:10 pm
codenamemilady: (murderous)
[personal profile] codenamemilady
Milady had seen no reason to include Oliver's 'visit' in her weekly reports. It was personal matter, to her mind, and the DGSE needn't be involved. Unfortunately, Desrochers had found out about the encounter and didn't agree with her assessment. So Milady had been called back to Paris for two days of explaining herself and convincing those over Desrochers that her usefulness as Clarice Winters was in no way threatened by Oliver knowing she lived. She'd succeeded, of course.

After two days, she was sent back to London with orders to resume her life as Clarice, but with all long term missions on hold until she, Desrochers - ugh - and Paris were confident she could return to work. Milady didn't reach out to any of her, mostly unwitting, contacts, but accepted readily when they reached out to her, not wanting to raise suspicions. There were luncheons, of course, and invitations for drinks or dancing. And when she had no other plans, Milady went shopping or spent hours in a coffee shop with a book. Largely public, going about Clarice's life, and inwardly alternating between bored and seething.

Today was more of the same. Anita had insisted she come to lunch with some of 'their' friends. The food and wine had been excellent. The company meant when Milady begged off the rest of the afternoon with a headache, it wasn't a lie. Amazing how much better she felt once she was rid of them. Better enough for some shopping, wandering in and out of boutiques, picking up this or that on a whim, and always, keeping a discreet eye out for unwanted surveillance. The ubiquitous cameras, if anything, suited her purposes in being out.

Display buckets of cut flowers outside a florist shop caught her eye as she passed. Well, not exactly. It was the so faint scent of the forget-me-nots filling one of those buckets that made her stop. They were gathered in small posies, and Milady had picked one up, lifting it to inhale deeply before she realized what she was doing.

Don't be ridiculous, was her first thought.

Followed by, There's bound to be a camera. Which meant, if Oliver cared to look, he could see. Likely Desrochers as well.

Milady dropped the flowers back in the bucket and smoothed her hands over her dress as she turned to go. Two steps, and her heel caught in a crack on the pavement. She reached out, catching herself before she could fall, but the Louboutin wasn't as lucky, the heel twisting off the rest of the shoe with a crack. "Bloody-!"

[Afternoon, early evening – whatever works for you and yours. She's in a Mood, but it's not a bad time to meet her anyway.]
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.

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.

ota

Jul. 25th, 2016 09:07 pm
winter_wisp: (blue darker)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
Pixies, Winter's sort anyway, were very effected by their environment. Seasons could effect their magic, the colours of the woods they made their homes in could effect their looks, and feelings, emotions, and temperament of those around them could alter their mood. In fact, their very being could be altered if it was severe enough.

Winter was looking less white today, and more... Grey. Tinted slightly violet in some light. Everything about him was ever so slightly off, but the strangest thing about him was his height. He hadn't altered his potion at all, and yet today he'd taken his usual dose and found himself taller than usual. Five foot ten, to be exact. A whole inch taller than Finlay. Usually he'd have been delighted by such a strange and exciting occurrence, but not today. Not tonight.

Tonight he simply wandered the streets, looking less like whimsy and trouble, and more like a vicious creature from dark woods where mortals shouldn't wander. His clothes were no longer bright and cheerful, but were instead replaced with simple muted shades of grey and blue. Street lights flickered as he passed beneath them, and as he dragged his fingers along the brick wall of an abandoned shop, black vines seemed to creep out of the shadows, slinking along the wall and filling the cracks. It was dark enough that many might not notice them. Which was just as well, really.

As he reached the curb, the vines stopped, and Winter went still. A group of people passed him, laughing and smiling, and Winter felt a pang of something bitter and dark in his chest. A sharp stab of pain that perfectly aligned with a sudden crack of thunder and an unexpected mist of rain that began to trickle down, the drops growing fatter and then falling harder and harder.

The laughter faded as the group began to rush for cover, and Winter watched them, wanting to be pleased. Though it wasn't nearly as amusing as it should have been. As he wanted it to be. It felt so childish, so dull. All the things that had been fun to him, things that he'd enjoyed. Lately they meant nothing to him. His toys, his games, his wardrobe. They once had brought him joy, and now they offered nothing it seemed.

OTA

Jul. 20th, 2016 08:53 pm
finlay_flynn: (tilted right)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
He'd packed two suitcases, then prompted Winter to do the same. The promise of a pool and pizza for dinner had been enough to stop the pixie from sulking, at least for now. 

Two days later and the pair were very much settled into their two bedroom, penthouse suite at the Mandarin, and Fin was down in the bar, knocking back his third drink and ignoring the millions of texts that had his phone flashing at him almost constantly. Texts from his agent, texts from Hex, texts from Will as well, he imagined. ...He didn't want to deal with any of them, and when a woman discarded her glass of water beside him, he dropped his phone right into it.

Fuck them all.

"Can I get another?" he asked the barman, nodding at his empty glass. "This time make it a double, cheers."

At a table nearby a man was flipping through today's paper, and Fin could see his face on the front. It was a small photo, tucked into the corner, partnered with a headline that read, "Flynn Flies Off The Handle"

Yesterday hadn't been a good day. He'd begged Stanley to cancel his appearance on that bloody late night show, The man had refused, he always refused. Always pushed too hard. They'd cut to a break, and Stanley was telling him he had another show right after- And Fin... Fin had lost it. It hadn't aired, but he'd fired Stanley then and there, and walked right off the set, leaving the interviewer scrambling to fill time.

"Fuck them all," he muttered again.

OTA

Jul. 20th, 2016 03:13 pm
akatawitch: (Have to go through me)
[personal profile] akatawitch
The best part of summer was reading things because you wanted to and not because you had an assignment, and Sunny had a lot of catching up to do. Oh, she read a few trashy romance novels during the school year, but that was about all her brain could take. Now she had the time and space for things that required quite a bit more concentration as Greer Gilman's work did.

Even so, it was too easy to lock yourself indoors when it came to books, so she made a point of reading out in public whenever possible. Which was nice. She claimed a spot reading under a tree in the park and let the utter contrast of winter tales carry her away into flights of fancy. So it was too bad when she overheard a piece of conversation between two elderly women shuffling by along the nearby path. She hadn't been trying to listen or anything, it had just floated into awareness.

"The only people I do have problems with are Negros. And I don't know why."

Huh. Usually people were more subtly awful than that. They must be really good friends to say that kind of thing without fear of judgment.

Sunny slipped a hand into her purse and gave her knife a surreptitious twist. "Bring music of my heart," she murmured.

Her heart at the moment seemed to be full of California love. Positively blaring "California Love."

The song seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, and Sunny watched as people looked around for a source that they would not find. Anybody with magic would know at once that no such source would be found, and probably wouldn't have to work that hard to discern that it was her doing.

Sunny however only raised an eyebrow at the proceedings ­­and went back to her book. No one was going to die from five minutes of rap.

Though those women appeared to be trying to shuffle away as fast as they could, and that was a thing of beauty.
lcrpg_npc: (closeup)
[personal profile] lcrpg_npc
It was about to be quite a long stretch of rainy days in London, with only a few cloudy days sprinkled in between. Still, it took more than a little rain to slow down London, and the city was as busy and alive as ever.

Rain also wouldn't stop most of the events happening that coming weekend. From the pubs to the parks, from food festivals to public Wimbledon viewings, there was something happening on every corner.

ota

Jun. 29th, 2016 04:45 pm
finlay_flynn: (fair and frail)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
The first attack had been unexpected. Sure, they'd all been on guard, but it still seemed to come out of nowhere, and part of him had been hopeful that they were all being overly cautious. ...Will had been right though, and that attack had been nothing compared to what would come.

For the most part they'd taken to pairing off when they could, but it was impossible to be with one another at all times, and tonight Fin was alone- But still more prepared than before. He carried two daggers now, both made of iron, and though his magic was still weak and very new, he was slowly learning to control it and master minor spells and charms with the help of Will. So he didn't feel too concerned as he made his way home down less populated streets.

His training had made him more attune to magic around him though, and he went still for a moment as he felt that familiar shiver pass through him. Someone was coming. ...More than one someone, actually, and he ducked down the first alley he passed, trying to decide if he should run or fight. ...Or call for Will. Common sense told him that was the thing to do, but he knew deep down he had to learn to take care of himself. Will wouldn't always be there to swoop in and save him after all.

Running seemed wise as well, but given how fast Phouka could move, he knew there was a chance he wouldn't be able to outrun his attacker. No, this time fight won out over flight, and he took a calming breath as he drew one of his daggers.

That was all the time he had to prepare, in a flash magic engulfed the alley he'd ducked into, and two tall, blue green figures stood before him, one wielding a knife, the other a heavy sword- So heavy, in fact, that the creature needed two hands to lift it. They looked fae, but- Different somehow. Unseelie, perhaps?

Fin was fairly certain they weren't going to pause to answer questions though, and before either of them could step closer, he cast one of the few charms he knew- A spell that was just strong enough to freeze one of them in place for a few moments. The actor didn't have much time to think about it, and froze the one with the knife. The sword wielding one was much slower, and surely he'd be easier to fight off. 

The creature lunged at him, and Fin managed to avoid the heavy swing of his sword, before lunging with his own blade the way Will had taught him. He missed, and moved away again as the creature lifted its sword once more. His heart was pounding in his chest, and though his magic felt weakened by the first spell he'd cast, he attempted another. ...And only managed to singe himself.

"Shit," he swore softly, shaking away the pain and only barely getting out of dodge as the sword came down again. Though this time the creature had moved closer to him as it struck, and Fin knew now was the time to act. 

His blade sunk into the creature's neck, and it screamed, the sound dampened by whatever spell they'd cast to trap him in the tight space of that alley. As it fell, Fin saw someone approaching from the way he'd come, and rather than watch the creature shrivel into nothing more than bones at his feet, his gaze fell on the person heading his way, their features slightly obscured by the heavy fog that the creatures seemed to have brought with them.

He was so busy looking at the stranger, trying to asses if they were friend or foe, that he didn't notice the his spell wearing off- Not until his other attacker was right beside him, and a sharp iron blade was in his side.

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