Gathering Post

[londoncallingmods]

The best thing about London was that there was always something to do, no matter what your interests were. This weekend there was a jazz festival in Bloomsbury, an ale festival that would take you through a drunken train tour of the city, an African culture festival near Covent Garden, and several movie screenings, parties, and other pockets of fun.

Tourists were flooding in from all over, and many Londoners were slipping off to, or coming back from, their latest trips to Barcelona, Paris, or Ibiza. The weather was warm, and it had been fairly dry and sunny lately- Really, it was the perfect place to be right now. ...At least that's what anyone who wasn't heading off to some tropical wonderland would tell you at least.

As day faded into evening, bars came alive and shop windows lit up, inviting in tourists and locals alike. The city buzzed well into the night, calming only briefly in the morning, before bursting back into life again.

(Have your pup be anywhere in the city you like. This GP is intended to take place over the course of Sat and Sun, but will be open all week long! Remember to add your pup's tag after you tag in!)

Comments

[logan_echolls]

If there was one thing Logan really liked about London, it was beer. Ales, lagers, mystery pints of things with stupid names... they were all pretty damn good in his opinion. Back home he'd leaned towards vodkas or scotch, but beer- Good beer- He could really learn to love it.

What he couldn't get used to, however, was how cold people seemed in a lot of the bars. Sure, now and then he'd find a bunch of guys who'd happily knock back a few with him, but they were always talking about 'football' or cricket. It was a culture he just wasn't a part of yet, and eventually he'd find himself paying his tab and slipping out.

Tonight was one of those nights, and the alcohol only served to make Logan slightly melancholy as he loitered outside the pub, toying with a joint someone had given him, and trying to decide if he should hit one more bar, or call it a night.

[im_torchwood]

Jack had been in the hub, tracking a signal that was coming across the Atlantic headed for London. It turned out to be a tremendous flock of birds, but he only realized that when they went to roost on a rocky island between Ireland and Wales. Because of their signature he thought they might have passed through the rift over Greenland but he couldn't tell and they weren't a danger tonight so he put the observation to bed and texted Logan.

Where are you? I'm done for the night. I'll meet you somewhere?

[logan_echolls]

Out. Dunno where. Some bar. Where do you want to meet?

He tapped away lazily, tucking the joint back into his pocket as he started to walk towards the underground, not bothering to look and see which station it was.

[akatawitch]

Sunny had been looking forward to the African culture festival all week. There were a lot of Nigerians in particular in London--long-term effects of colonialism, get over it, you xenophobic bastards--and Sunny loved nothing like a good, fun multicultural event. The art, the fashion, the food, and most importantly, the music. Nothing topped Afrobeat performed live.

She got there early and had plans to stay just about all day long. She didn't go fully traditional or traditionally inspired with her clothes. A wrapper with a loud print and a solid tank top, all in blues and purples. And of course, her parasol.

Occasionally of course she got looks as she always did particularly from people of African descent or origin, but she was ready to stake her ground as she always did with fluent Pidgin English.

And who knew? Maybe she'd run into other Leopard People today.

[harrowgate]

At least one other Leopard.

Felix was not the only Caucasian person at the festival -- he'd brought along a second in the form of Shannon, after all -- but he was certainly the most obvious. He stood half a head taller than most people of any color, and his spring-and-mint jacket over an unabashedly expensive t-shirt was unusually decorous in the flood of colorful prints swirling around them. From time to time, he slung the jacket off as it got too warm, and hooked it by one finger over his shoulder, baring the tattoos from knuckle to elbow that sang against his pale skin.

He had hold of Shannon's hand, threading through a particularly crowded section, when he found a familiar face. Well, a familiar parasol, first, with the face under it. "Sunny darling," Felix called out, "we're famished, show us something not comprised of sheep brains, would you?"

[akatawitch]

Sunny looked up at the familiar voice, picking out Felix immediately. He was going to stand out wherever he went--something she experienced and understood very well--but here, well... yes. Yes he did.

And she was delighted that he'd decided to stand out here.

Though her bright smile easily gave way to smirking. "You live on an island which--issue of three very different countries aside--gave rise to haggis. Pot, this is kettle. He's black."

The bantering tone and challenging expression left when she turned her gaze to his companion, though. She recognized him from the splatter the tabloid press had been trying to make, and from one very brief encounter that had not lasted long enough to involve the exchange of names. "You must be Shannon."

[the_hastings_way]

How she'd wound up at the African Culture Festival was a long story that stemmed from panicking while searching for an excuse not to spend the day with her sister- But the gist of it was that she'd lied, and then she'd found herself stuck in that lie.

So here she was, sticking out like the wasp-y sore thumb she was, instagramming as much as she could to appease her sister's curiosity, and trying not to draw too much attention to herself as she wandered through the craft section- And nearly walked right into Sunny.

Given what a mess she'd been the last time they'd crossed paths, Spencer couldn't help but look a touch embarrassed as she offered a little wave- Not realizing she was still holding the somewhat phalic looking statue she'd been looking at.

[akatawitch]

Sunny smiled when she saw Spencer, and smiled even wider when she saw what the other girl was holding. She was perfectly at ease as she approached, even though she was paler that anyone here who originated from the continent. "You look so overwhelmed! What's wrong?"

[hollow_moon]

Last night had been a full moon, which meant today Valentine was not at his best. He looked tired and stiff, and the slight crinkles around his eyes seemed deeper- They were nearly as dark as the circles that slept beneath them, leaving his gaze looking slightly sunken and dark.

Ususally he'd have stayed home today, curled up and licking his wounds. However, he'd had a meeting that morning with a curator from The British Museum. It was a common thing, actually, to have them reach out to him when they were looking for uncommon items, and he was always happy to loan out his collection.

It had been enough motivation to get him out of the house, and with the meeting behind him he was lingering at an outdoor table in front of one of his favourite cafes, eyeing a pastry that had been brought out on a petite silver dish. It looked delightful, but he knew his stomach could be trouble after a bad night- As tempting as it was, common sense had him pushing it away, just in case.

[akatawitch]

Sunny was on her way to Covent Garden that morning, curious and eager to see what was happening in that part of town. But she had an errand or two to run beforehand, which took her around London a bit as she'd decided to take scenic routes.

She would have passed by without a thought if she hadn't glanced in time to see Val and, on top of that, if he hadn't looked like he'd been hit by a truck. "You look awful," she said as she stopped to look at him. Blunt, but not without concern.

[hollow_moon]

"While you look as radiant as ever, my goddess of the sun," Val replied, smiling through the pain of a bad morning.

"Fancy a pastry?" he asked, nodding at the plate. "My stomach isn't ready for solids this morning."

[codenamemilady]

"Someone had a wild night." Milady had been judging the sidewalk tables with an eye for the best sunny spot available, when she saw the man push his pastry aside. If she looked past the dark circles and worn out demeanor, there was something that caught the eye, otherwise he wouldn't have been worth a comment.

Unlike the man, Milady looked, well, fresh-faced was perhaps pushing it, but well-rested and bright eyed, ready for a day of leisure, which was exactly what she had planned.

[hollow_moon]

Looking up, Val offered what he hoped was a warm smile.

"Wild is certainly a word for it- Though not the one I might have chosen myself," he replied, his laugh dry and tired, though genuine.

[jageskro]

Jag had been about to walk by when he noticed a certain someone sitting at a table. The café was way too posh for him to ever consider having anything there, but it made crashing Val's table all the more appealing a prospect. He certainly didn't look like he belonged, and if he could ruffle the feathers of a few nearby snobs while enjoying Val's company, all the better.

So he took the seat next to Val's without so much as a greeting, dropping his bag beside him, and gave Val his bright half-smile. "I'll have that, if you aren't going to eat it."

[hollow_moon]

Val offered a faint smile, nudging the plate towards Jag.

"Be my guest, love. I've not got the stomach for solids today," he confessed, gesturing for the server to bring more coffee as he spoke.

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby had put off returning to the States to take care of things for as long as he could, but he needed to get some stuff wrapped up before he made his stay in London a longer term one, so he'd finally booked his flight and told his parents he was coming. Staying with them was going to be awkward, but it was unavoidable without a lot of lying or excuses, and it was just easier to go with the flow.

With his flight leaving tomorrow, he was out running errands, making sure he had what he needed for the trip back and just taking care of those last-minute things that always came up before a long-distance flight. Of course his headphones had died this week, and with a transatlantic flight he wanted to be able to listen to music or watch a movie on his laptop, so that was definitely on the list, and a dozen other things he needed to pick up or drop off or sort out before meeting John for a nice dinner out before they had to separate for a week.

Of course, the weekend crowds made the tube just that extra bit more delightful, especially with the tourists in full force, but that was the price he paid for procrastinating.

[find him in any one of a number of shops, on the tube, in a café grabbing a cold drink, or on his way to the restaurant later in the evening on Saturday.]

[the_hastings_way]

She hated the tube. She kept trying to convince herself she didn't- But she did. She hated the crowds, she hated the volume levels, she hated the smell... Mostly she hated that there was never a seat though, so her trip was slightly brightened by the fact that there seemed to be one open beside a man who looked like he wasn't going to reek of last night's take out or a pub crawl.

"Thank god," she said, sighing happily as she dropped into the seat and took a long drink from her half-empty Starbucks cup. "I thought I was going to be stuck standing again."

[shannonteverius]

The press could all shove their heads in a river, Shannon decided. He and Felix would not hide in their apartment forever. They were going out on the town and what better place to wander than the African cultural festival? Shannon knew Felix would love a chance to indulge in learning and foreign culture, and what better way for Shannon to show off his lover than to stick him in the contrasting atmosphere of an African cultural festival?

He had to admit, he was enjoying himself more than he'd expected. There were many colorful things to look at, including a fashion show, and the food, though unusual, was surprisingly delicious.

At some point he lost track of Felix, but he wasn't worried. Though his lover was prone to getting lost, he would be easily spotted among this crowd. Even Shannon, dressed cool for the summer, would be easily noticed among the riot of color around him.

[Find him anywhere at the festival.]

[the_hastings_way]

How Spencer had found herself at the African Culture Festival was a long story that involved an open newspaper, and panicking while searching for an excuse not to spend the day with her sister. However, if you just wanted to boil it down to facts, she'd lied, and then she'd found herself stuck in that lie. Simple as that.

So here she was, sticking out like the wasp-y sore thumb she was, instagramming as much as she could to appease her sister's curiosity, and trying not to draw too much attention to herself as she wandered and browsed.

She was just getting ready to leave when she spotted a man wearing the exact Topman shirt she'd nearly bought to send home to Toby- Only to find it was sold out. Curious, she found herself hitching her Hermes Virevolte bag back up onto her shoulder and making her way over. "Hey, sorry, can I just ask with Topman you found that shirt in? I was going to buy one for my friend, and they were sold out at both the ones I hit the other day."

[shannonteverius]

With a glance at his shirt Shannon shrugged. "I don't remember," he said. He managed to looks slightly apologetic when he said it. He didn't consider the Topman to be one of his more notable shirts.

Shannon sized the woman up with a quick appraisal. "Friend or boyfriend?" he asked.

[anamusebouche]

Boerewors, droewors, samosa, mealie... The African Culture festival meant an African market, and in particular, a stand with typical South African sausages and spices.

Hannibal smiled as a plate of sausage slices was offered to him. "Taste, taste," the man offered. Hannibal gladly complied.

"Very nice," he complimented, upon which the entire array of 'wors' was explained to him. "Hard to choose," he remarked, to the man, and whoever was next to him, also trying to decide what to buy.

[the_hastings_way]

How she'd wound up at the African Culture Festival was a long story that involved finding an excuse not to spend the day with her sister- But the short version was she'd lied, and then she'd found herself stuck in that lie.

So here she was, sticking out like the wasp-y sore thumb she was, instagramming as much as she could to appease her sister's curiosity, and nibbling a sausage.

How many calories were even in this? It was good though...

"I like the one with the fenugreek. Actually, I might get some," she decided, forgetting about calories and moving onto thoughts of cooking a huge dinner and curling up with her Netflix subscription.

[akatawitch]

There was a common misconception in the western world that to know--especially belong to--one African culture meant knowing all of them. Sunny didn't even know all the ones in Nigeria's borders, there being a few hundred of them. Distance meant that South African things were not so terribly well known to her, either, so her curiosity was up.

"Nothing says cultural exchange like food," Sunny agreed with a bit of a smile. "But there's so much to choose from and only one stomach."

[sauntereddownward]

Smoking was a pleasure and since he was infernal and all he'd never suffer the pains of cancer or any of that¹. And Crowley enjoyed a good glass of wine, something that was easy enough to come by². So he sat outside a charming little bistro, smoking and drinking and watching the people scurry around, too and fro, so in a hurry that no one noticed that right there in front of him there seemed to be a bottleneck where they had to shuffle and jostle, getting huffy and impatient.

Crowley watched. And he smiled.

1. The hazards had been known long before the surgeon general came along.
2. Because bad wine could become the best wine with little more than a bit of will.

[prince_of_nymphs]

Stanley had come to pick him up from a photo shoot, and was chatting away about dinner and how Fin needed to finish his next play before the winter season- But Fin wasn't really listening. He was tired, and honestly a little emotionally drained. He'd always hated photo shoots, but without his eyes they were worse than ever. He had to put all his trust in the photographers, who so often wanted him shirtless or posing in odd ways with unusual props, in ways he couldn't visualize.

The pavement was packed, and Fin finally snapped. He'd spent all day being posed like a doll. Primped, poked at and touched... And he couldn't stand another moment of unnecessary contact.

"Please, Stanley, I just need to sit for a moment!" he said, his tone sharper than he meant it to be, and his expression pained.

Stanley sighed, guiding fin towards a table at the bistro and sitting him down. "Here, just relax, alright Fin?" the older man said gently. "Should I call for a car?"

Fin sat down, his hands trembling slightly as he shook his head.

"I'm Fine Stanley, just go, alright? I'll take the tube home when the rush dies down," he said softly, folding his cane and placing it on the table. Stanley frowned, but didn't argue. Instead he made sure Fin's phone was fully charged before leaving the young man to calm himself and make his own way home.