Gathering Post : 2/24 - 3/2

[londoncallingmods]

(As always gathering posts are open for at least one week. Feel free to use the heading of your comment to let other players know what day and time your top level takes place. Tag in now and check back often to tag others!)

Comments

Wednesday Night

[quartermaster_q]

He was being followed. He'd suspected it the moment he'd left the office, and two transfers on the tube had confirmed it. There were three of them, one tall, two of average height. All Eastern European by the looks of it, at least that's what he'd have said if Q'd been asked to guess. Not amateurs either- They'd easily spotted him as he'd attempted to lose them in the crowds, and though he'd briefly shaken one of them by waiting until the last moment to get off the train, the straggler had quickly rejoined his friends.

Now they appeared to have split up, and though Q wanted to pull out his phone to text James, he didn't dare pause long enough to do so- He simply kept walking, weaving through the streets.

Taking a sharp left after passing through a thick crowd of students, Q took the corner and slammed right into someone who'd not had time to see him coming.

"Shit," he swore softly.

Re: Wednesday Night

[0_0_7]

Valentine Zukovsky was a wall of a man. Heavy built and carrying a hefty weight on his broad frame. Q ran right into him as the three men herded the boffin right to him.

"Hello," the Russian said. "Exactly where you're meant to be, no? Now, no trouble, Mr. Q. Come with us."

Re: Wednesday Night

[quartermaster_q]

Q stumbled back a step, frowning and glancing around. There was still enough of a crowd that he wasn't too worried yet, but he wouldn't deny being a bit nervous.

"Flattered by the offer, but I think I'll decline," the young Quartermaster replied, taking another step back just as two women approached, deliberately bumping one of them and causing her to drop her purse. That was enough to cause a small scene, and Q took the opportunity to try and slip back into the crowd, already pulling his phone out to call Bond.

Re: Wednesday Night

[0_0_7]

Valentin signaled for one of the men following to hurry after Q, but the crowd was just thick enough to slow him down.

Bond's phone chimed Q's ringtone and he answered. It was the wrong time of day for a call, he knew.

"What's wrong?" he said instead of hello, already on his way to the car.

Thursday Afternoon

[prince_of_nymphs]

Learning to care about fashion was, honestly, one of Fin's least favourite things when it came to his new life as a 'celebrity'. It was all well and good when someone dressed him or gave him things, but shopping for himself? ...Eh.

Currently he was in the middle of Topshop in Oxford, a massive shop that was almost like its own shopping centre. He found himself standing beneath a sign that read Selected Homme, eyeing a suit that looked as though it had been ripped off the back of Peewee Herman. It was hideous, and he pulled a face as he looked down at the burgundy leather dress shoes he was holding.

"This was a dreadful idea," he sighed.

Re: Thursday Afternoon

[utterly_mysterious]

"Nonsense," said a lightly smoky voice from behind him. "That is a dreadful suit. There is a world of difference between the suit and the idea. Besides, if you're trying to pair winter shoes with a spring suit, you're going to fall on your face every time."

Angelique did not normally pause in this section of Topshop -- she didn't normally browse Topshop at all -- but she had happened by just in time to hear possibly the saddest sigh she'd heard all week. Someone was discouraged about shopping, and that simply could not be left alone. She stood just behind the man, wearing a fitted pencil skirt cut to flatter her shape, and a high-necked lace top that was loose enough to leave her figure to the imagination. Her curly black hair was pulled back in a loose queue with plenty of tendrils to frame her face. Today, her heels were lower than their usual stratospheric height, for maximum comfort while shopping.

Re: Thursday Afternoon

[prince_of_nymphs]

"It really is hideous," Fin agreed, staring at the suit a beat longer before turning to face the stranger and offering her a smile. "My manager keeps telling me I should just let him hire someone to take care of this sort of thing, but that feels a bit pretentious, don't you think?"

Currently he was dressed in a pair of fitted jeans and one of his favourite concert shirts, authenticity faded and holey, topped off with a leather coat he'd been gifted. It would have looked good, if it hadn't been for the very old and beat up looking trainers he was currently wearing.

Re: Thursday Afternoon

[willysilver]

Willy stepped out of the dressing room wearing a black suit with a black shirt and coordinating black tie. The fae rarely wore anything not black.

"Finlay, what do you think of this?" he asked.

Re: Thursday Afternoon

[prince_of_nymphs]

Fin couldn't help but smile warmly, forgetting his fashion woes for a moment as he approached the fae.

"You look handsome as always," he assured him. "Dashing even, I have to say."

Sunday Night

[utterly_mysterious]

A Leap Year party hosted by the drag band-slash-comedy-troup Denim was close to the top of Angelique's must-attend events for the year. Something about the over-the-top style of the event, featuring live music, DJs, and queer performances of all types over a spread of rooms at The Vaults, only encouraged Angelique to tone down her wardrobe. In a room full of gender subversion, drag queens and kings in the most outrageous outfits they could create, she would embrace her femininity, as naturally as possible. She was tightly laced into a purple and black lace dress, the full skirt high in front and low in back to show off her knee-high leather boots, and her hair was soft and loose around her bare shoulders.

Slinking her way from one room to the next, Angelique paused critically with a glass of white wine dangling in her fingers, nails lacquered in oil-slick black with black lace half-gloves. "Not dance hits of the 1980s again," she commented with a delicately wrinkled nose to whomever happened to be nearby. "Aren't we subject to enough of that every other weekend of the year?"

Re: Sunday Night

[winter_wisp]

Winter was still only just getting comfortable with being out on his own again, and though he'd let himself be ushered into the party, he looked just a little tense as he wandered from room to room. Though he did like how friendly everyone seemed to be, and the many complements his new favourite jumper was getting.

He was guarding his drink as though his life depended on it, and seemed startled when the person beside him spoke.

Honestly, he didn't understand what that meant, but the pixie smiled and nodded anyway, wanting to fit in.

Re: Sunday Night

[utterly_mysterious]

Angelique smiled at the sweet little thing she found at her side. He barely looked old enough to be in a place like this, let alone drinking. Or understanding what the celebration was about. Still, he was adorable. Considering the teddy-bear sweater, perhaps he liked to play age games. Angelique certainly wasn't the sort to judge.

"But I suppose I'd rather dance to something much more classic. It doesn't seem like the sort of party where we're likely to find a jazz band or a string quartet, does it?" she continued as if the young man had actually answered her. If necessary, she could carry on an entire conversation on her own, but participating with another person was even better.

Saturday

[akatawitch]

When Sunny was a girl, she'd been a combination of so sensitive and so unused to magic that she sneezed whenever it was thick in the air. This store? This store wouldn't even have caused her a tickle.

Not all magic users had any patience for what passed for magic among Lambs. Or no, rather, magick, which was how Sunny absolutely knew she had to go into the shop. A mish-mash of European neo-paganism and Buddhist icons, crystals and tarot cards, candles and incense, and basically all manner of 'I'm spiritual but y'know, not religious.'

It was so twee she couldn't breathe, and it was great.

Sunny was about to go check out the books--oh Lord help her, New Age books--when she felt someone brush close to her. She only prayed it wasn't an employee asking if she wanted a tarot reading or a spell or healing, because she thought she would just completely lose it.

Re: Saturday

[yves]

Yves had been moving gracefully through the shop, silent and almost cat like, so when he brushed against Sunny, it was absolutely deliberate. He'd chosen this moment to be noticed.

"Planning on picking up a copy of Magical Tattoos and Scarification?" Yves asked, the amusement evident in his voice, even though he spoke in that familiar low and rumbling purr.

His hair was shock white today, and a few strands tumbled forward, hanging over one eye as he leaned slightly forward to speak in the young witch's ear. "I'm sure you'd look lovely with a dharma wheel right on your hip," he teased.

Re: Saturday

[akatawitch]

Sunny felt an annoying little shiver go up her back that she couldn't tell was surprise, revulsion or... no, she wasn't even going to allow other words. Ew. Refusing to be intimidated, Sunny turned to look at him and had to pause. That wasn't dye.

But whatever.

"Maybe I'll pick up a spellbook or two. You never know. Maybe something actually works." Even though what she actually kind of wanted to say was 'You are not allowed to talk about my hips.'

Friday, late afternoon

[offthebeatenpath]

As glad as she was to be busking regularly again so she didn't have to depend on the boys covering her share of expenses, Em could only sit outside in the chill for so long before the pain got bad and walking afterwards a risky proposition. So before she got to that point, she'd stepped into a nearby pub for a few to warm up. The bartender had recommended a hot gin punch with berries and rosemary, and having noticed Em's cane and limp, offered to bring it to her even though they didn't have table service this time of day.

The hot drink was delicious and warming, and Em sipped at it as she read a book on her tablet, and let the drink ease the hints of pain rather than take one of the at this point mild painkillers she had in her bag. It was possible readings kept her from being as aware of her surroundings as she maybe should've been, but at some point she noticed that hard to pin down feeling of someone watching her.

There. A man at the end of the bar, not exactly staring - in fact, he lifted his pint for a drink when her scan of the room got to him - but not turning away either. Em's stomach churned and she could feel her heart beat faster. She slipped her tablet back into her bag, which she tucked closer to her body in case she needed to leave in a hurry. Or what passed for one, when hobbling was about the best you could do. Her other hand tightened around the handle of her glass to hide the way it wanted to tremble. Her mouth was dry, and while she couldn't see it, her cream-pale skin had lost what little color it had.

She still wasn't comfortable busking without Jag or Jake nearby, and today hadn't been any different, so all it would take was a text to have help here in no time, but she wasn't thinking clearly enough to think of her phone or doing that.

[Em's in Stranger Danger mode, so best to limit this to characters she's met before.]

[codenameathos]

It was probably one of life's little ironies that there was, in fact, a man watching her, but not the one she was worried about. Oliver hadn't been trailing her; in fact, he'd already been at the bar when she limped in. And fortunately, it was early enough that he was not drunk yet, although that had been his plan for the evening before he saw her.

So, of course, her sudden panic was obvious to his trained eye, and on a whim, he decided to change tactics. He picked up his glass and walked over to her table. "I'm sorry, I think we've met before - are you all right?"

It read as if he had only just noticed her visible upset; this was the genuine concern of a near stranger.

[offthebeatenpath]

Em startled, drawing in as she berated herself for focusing so much on one person she hadn't noticed someone else coming up to her table. "Oh. Uh... No, I'm fine," she answered after a moment, in a voice that sounded anything but fine.

Friday Night

[the_bad_brother]

Damon wasn't sure exactly when his mission in London had changed from "Try to find Rebekah" to "hang out in London and enjoy himself" (although it was probably pretty close to the time he'd discovered Cissie on the street), but he had to admit, it was kind of nice being away from Mystic Falls, from everyone and everything there that was a painful reminder of Elena. He was in no hurry to get back to any of them, and they all knew where to find him, so he spent his days half-heartedly poking at trails that had long gone cold, and his nights? They were spent out on the town running up exorbitant tabs, finding people to warm his bed (or sate his hunger), and generally just enjoying the London nightlife.

Tonight had been no different. He'd hit several pubs, heard some live music that hadn't actually sucked, and drank enough that his gait was somewhat less than steady as he strolled down the pavement toward the penthouse flat he shared with Cissie (who was probably out do-gooding or something, whatever, different strokes).

The slight stagger in his step is probably what attracted the man who pulled a knife on him and demanded his wallet. Damon snorted and rolled his eyes, clasping the man on the shoulder. "Boy, did you just make a big mistake, buddy," he slurred, and in the blink of an eye the two of them had been spirited down the nearest dark alley. The mugger's broken fingers soon dropped the knife with a hoarse cry of pain, and he was pinned against the dirty brick wall as Damon's grip on his shoulders tightened, not quite enough to crush the bones beneath them but tight enough that the man writhed and began to plead. "Don't worry," Damon breathed, veins appearing near his eyes as his fangs descended. "I'm in a good mood tonight, so you might even get a chance to survive this." And with that his mouth latched onto the man's throat, tearing through flesh to get to the warm pulse of blood waiting for him.

(Feel free to run into Damon in a random club or on the street pre-mugging, or come across him in the act of feeding if you don't mind the possibility of being compelled to forget it. ;) )

Re: Friday Night

[prodigalflame]

"Sorry, fellas, I just wanted to take a slash..." John had been out and had limited himself to two drinks, but on the walk home he'd needed to find somewhere for a quick piss and ducked into an alleyway. It wasn't his intent to disturb who-the-fuck-ever wanted to canoodle in the shadows. He'd done a lot worse, after all.

(Not recently.)

While it was dark, there was enough interplay from the light of the moon and the shadows for John to realise in a couple of moments this was no ordinary making out session: instead his hand was already in his pocket to flick open his lighter and ignite a thin, deadly whip of flame, which he cracked over the head of the guy doing the - what the fuck? biting? - as a warning. Because of course there were vampires. Of course there were. Or this was one fucking bizarre mutation.

"C'mon, Dracula. Drop the happy meal and step away slowly." While John did not give one boiled fuck for who the hell was currently getting their veins sucked, he did not like the idea of some threatening creature of the night stalking around London all happily fed.

Re: Friday Night

[the_bad_brother]

Damon growled as his meal was interrupted, pulling back to look the mugger in the eyes. "Don't. Move," he compelled the man, then turned to face the newcomer, eyeing the--what the hell even was that, a whip made of fire? Jesus. Witches. Why did they always have to crash his parties?

He licked the blood from his lips and dragged his eyes away from the weapon to the face. "What are you, the Good Witch of the East End?" he asked, hoping his dinner didn't bleed out behind him while he dealt with this asshole.

[harrowgate]

Heedless of the fact that he'd only just recovered from the trouble of having a bruised face, Felix was out on his own on a Friday evening once again. The ugly purple mark at the corner of his mouth had severely hampered his social life for the past month or so, but at last it was gone, and Felix felt like himself again. He'd even largely managed to forget Shannon's annoyance about his late home-coming that night. Shannon always forgave him, anyway.

"Bourbon and water," he told the bartender as he settled into a standing spot at the bar, just next to a man with remarkably clear blue eyes that he had noticed when he'd procured his last drink. "No, not that one. No... yes, darling, now you're getting warmer," Felix added as the bartender grew less likely to charge him top-shelf prices for mid-range whiskey. "Proper bourbon. Very good."

He received his drink at last, left cash on the bar with a fairly generous tip to ensure he'd receive better next time, and glanced at the blue-eyed man to share a brief roll of his own unusual eyes. It was the sort of look that said so hard to find good help these days without saying anything at all.

[the_bad_brother]

Damon arched an eyebrow as he listened to the man order. Bourbon, Damon's favorite, and he had taste in his bourbon, too. When they shared a look and the guy rolled his eyes, Damon chuckled softly. "The service sucks, but at least the liquor is mediocre," he drawled, sipping his own bourbon.

Re: Friday Night

[arrowette]

As it happened, do-gooding was exactly what Cissie was doing tonight. She had her routine, her places she patrolled and she liked to think she was doing her part with keeping London safe - even if most people probably didn't approve.

She had been lurking in the shadows of the alleyway, considering which block to look over next when she heard a familiar voice.

Damon. Of course it was Damon. And of course he was in the middle of eating someone. Lovely.

She shook her head in resignation and stepped out of the shadows, hands on her hips. "Oh my god, really? Could you maybe not eat this guy?"

Re: Friday Night

[the_bad_brother]

Damon froze at the sound of Cissie's voice behind him, and he sighed. He pulled his mouth away from his meal and caught the man's eyes, pushing compulsion onto him. "Stay right there. The missus wants to talk to me," he drawled, then turned slowly, wiping a smear of blood from his chin with his thumb and then licking it. "Aren't there other bad guys you could be harassing, Blondie? Or are you just stalking me now?"