Gathering Post

[lcrpg_npc]

The Queen's official birthday celebrations might wait for the better, brighter weather of June, instead of the actual date just passed, but there was no lack of things to do in London this week, even if it was cooler and damper than the week before. St. George's day festivities were scattered throughout the city, competing with celebrations of the four hundredth anniversary of Shakespeare's death. Getting around the city could be even more difficult than usual on Sunday, with multiple streets closed off for the London marathon.

There were exhibits - everything from graphic design to a survey of Sicilian history to the influence of underwear. And the same level of diversity could be found whether you were in the mood for music, theatre, good food, or late night fun. There was something for everyone, and no matter your plans - or lack of plans - you never quite knew what you were going to find, or who might find you.



[Week long gp! Tag in, tag others, and check in daily to see who's joined in.]

Comments

[winter_wisp]

Winter didn't know who St George was, but he did like the bright colours of balloons and displays that filled the park.

He was perched on a bench, observing some of the celebrating mortals while nibbling a 99, trying to finish it before it melted. There was music playing somewhere, and he hummed along between licks.

Usually he'd have been drawn to the face painting booths and games, but lately... Lately he found those things weren't as fun. Winter was still playful and spritely, but his tastes and interests were slowly maturing it seemed.

He frowned to himself, wondering why he didn't feel as excited as he had just a month ago when Easter had come, then sighed as a large portion of his ice cream sipped off his cone and hit the pavement.

"Bugger," he muttered.

[just_hex]

Hex couldn't be still. He couldn't be inside. He just couldn't do it no matter how his doctors told him to take it easy on himself. So he'd popped a couple pills and pocketed a couple more for later and set out to enjoy the day. He did try to be careful but it felt so good to walk and feel the air and the sun and the breeze.

He spied Winter looking forlornly at his ice cream and he wandered that direction.

"It's for the ants now, mate," he said. "What was it? A 99?"

OTA

[jageskro]

St George's day was kind of the best, along with Guy Fawkes', when you were a fire performer. The fact that Jag had recently met someone claiming to be an actual fucking dragon didn't stop him from going all out today. Ollie had done his make-up, scales in red and black, heavy on the eyes. The latter made him look more androgynous than usual (which wasn't difficult), and for once, his hair was pulled back in a ponytail to keep it out of the way.

He'd spent the morning in Hyde Park, near one of the jousting set-ups for the day, and the afternoon found him headed over to Trafalgar Square for more busking. His act was easy to adapt as him being a dragon, and more than once, he let one of the kids dressed as a knight (not all of them boys, thank fuck) in the audience end his number by 'killing him', to their delight.

He'd made quite a bit of money, unsurprisingly, and he packed up as the sun was setting, wondering whether to stop by the squat first, or just go out for a celebratory beer and meal. He ought to ring the boys and Em to know what they were up to, really.


Find him in the morning or the afternoon, or when he's packing up in the evening!

[hollow_moon]

Val was on his way home from seeing the family doctor, a man who was well aware of his 'condition'. He was still looking too thin and the dark circles beneath his eyes only seemed to grow each week, but what made it worse was how he seemed to be putting less effort into his appearance to match. As though he simply couldn't be bothered to put together one of his outfits, or even get his hair under control.

Today he wore a plain black shirt and dark jeans, along with a pair of plain black trainers. None of his usual flair. Still, he managed a smile when he spotted Jag.

"I was going to ring you, but... Well, I left my phone somewhere. Had to cancel it. Should get a new one today really," he added, frowning to himself, then shaking it off and smiling again.

That was happening more and more lately as well. Forgetting things, and appearing distracted or confused.

OTA

[thenorthman]

Opera wasn't Eric's entertainment of choice. But once in a while, he took a chance on something, and this had been this week's. He could have easily found company for the evening in his club, among the patrons or the staff, but since he was taking a chance on a new take on a classic, he was going to take a chance on the company, too.

He was dressed in an impeccable gray suit and standing outside of the Opera House, looking around until his gaze found someone who might be worth asking, someone simply walking by who might have somewhere else to be, and didn't seem to have any plans to attend the performance.

"Hi," he greeted them with a smile, charming without being too much. "I've been stood up and I'd hate this extra ticket to go to waste. Care to see some opera?"

Re: OTA

[codenamemilady]

Milady had a new handler, who'd requested a meeting to get to know each other better. A request that had given the impression of snapping his fingers and expecting her to heel.

He was new.

He'd learn.

Milady simply hadn't decided how to begin his education, assuming something would come to her on her way to the bar he'd picked for their rendezvous. So when a very attractive man in an exquisite suit invited her to the opera, why would she decline? She tilted her head as though giving the offer some thought, along with a hint of wariness quickly dismissed in favor of a small smile in return. "It would be a life-saver. Although I'd wish I dressed differently," she added, a vague gesture calling attention as much to her figure as her outfit.

"Does my savior-escort have a name?"

[alcuin]

Aluin looked surprised when he saw Eric there, and his cheeks were already turning slightly pink even as the invitation left the vampire's lips.

That first night was not the only time he'd had an erotic dream about Eric, in the weeks since they had met. It was embarrassing. Alcuin desperately hoped that vampires couldn't read minds.

"Someone stood you up?" he blurted before he could stop himself.

[winter_wisp]

Fin had dragged him off to have dinner with two stuffy old men who could, apparently, get him into some place called Harrow, where young mortals went to learn things. As a result Winter was, for once, looking quite smart- If not slightly sullen.

It wasn't clear if the man was actually speaking to him, or someone else, but Winter liked free things, and gave the stranger a curious look.

"Why did they stand you up?" the pixie asked curiously. "Did you do something wrong? Were you mean? People don't ignore people unless they're very cross... That's a fact," he added, pushing the fake glasses he was wearing back up his nose, and doing his best to mimic the posh old wankers Fin had made him spend the evening with.

People, in his experience, were always nicer if they thought you had money.

OTA

[miss_ives]

Vanessa walked out of the Senate House Library with a small smile on her face, having quite enjoyed their Curator's Room. Perhaps even more than the exhibition itself, it was the number of attendants that put her in such a happy mood. Seeing people interested in old texts brought a warm glow to her heart, seeming to cast her demons back into the shadows of her mind for at least a few hours.

To draw the feeling out, instead of heading back home, she stopped at the South Block Café for a tea and a scone.

[treasuredtales]

Belinda wasn't angry. Irked, perhaps. Mildly annoyed. Burning just the slightest bit hotter than normal under her skin. Somehow St. George's day seemed to sneak up on her more years than not, even though she remembered when his story first made its way to London centuries ago. She should have stayed in, but a between a brunch 'meeting' and tickets to X in the evening, it had been simpler not to criss-cross the city coming and going.

So she sat at sidewalk cafe, not quite glowering over her tea when she glanced up from her book - a six hundred year old reprint of Caxton's translation of de Voragine's Legenda Aurea - to watch people on their way to or from the celebrations in the park across the way.

[winter_wisp]

To say Winter was the jealous sort was an understatement, so when Phouka had started going on about Sunny and her reading, and her books, the pixie had immediately started doing more reading of his own, making sure Phouka saw him with a different book every other day or so. Children's books at first, since they were short and held his attention best, but soon he was reading young adult novels, and even a few text books.

The zombie had even taken him to get a special card so he could read books from the book building where the books wore funny jackets and stickers. So that was nice.

The woman at the next table had already caught his eye. She felt like fire, and her scent was familiar somehow to the pixie, though he wasn't sure why. But on top of all that, she had a book, and books were suddenly very interesting.

"Your book looks old," he said, tilting his head slightly as he looked at it. "Is it old?"

[offthebeatenpath]

Em didn't plan on seeing all the films of the Shakespeare walk, but there were quite a few she was interested in, and she planned out her path before leaving the squat. She took her cane, but tried not to use it unless she felt she needed it. It wasn't that long a walk, and she did get ten minute breaks at each stop. And the scenes she saw were wonderful. Unfortunately some of the screens had technical difficulties, so she missed a few of her favorites, but even with walking slowly and stopping when she needed to, she was done sooner than she expected.

With time to spare and feeling pretty good, she stopped for a quick bite, then made her way to Trafalgar, tarot cards and sketch pad to hand. She thought about not texting Jag, give him a chance to do his thing without having to worry about looking out for her for a few hours, but with how worried he was about her, she couldn't. Once she knew where to find him, she found a place to set up close enough they could see each other when they wanted. Which seemed to be a lot, at least from how often she found herself glancing over at his act. At least the crowds were good, enough that telling fortunes and doing a few sketches kept her busy for a couple of hours and gave her a better take than many full days busking.

That she couldn't shake the creeping crawling sensation up her spine and low level fear around so many people, well, she was going to do her best to ignore it - easier, she had to admit, with Jag close by - without being stupid about any actual threats. Assuming she could tell the difference.


(Catch her at any point during the day. It's all good.)

[jageskro]

Jag was glad that Em had set up close by, and by the time he'd packed up, he headed over with a grin on his made-up face. "How's your day gone?"

[sunsongs]

Coby wasn't headed anywhere in particular. But he'd spent most of April holed up in his flat, between feeling like he'd been hit by a truck and trying to learn how to draw in the giant black wings he'd woken up with on April Fools day. Anael was the only one who knew what had happened. At first Coby'd told the rest of the band he was sick, then he was taking a break to do some writing, because it wasn't like he could really explain surprise!wings. They'd been cool about it, but he was looking forward to getting back on stage with them soon.

Today, though, today he just wanted to get out of the apartment. Just wandering wherever his feet took him. He didn't look any different, if he ran into anyone he knew. As long as he kept his cool and went with the flow of things, his wings were simply a neat tattoo over his back and arms and currently hidden under his shirt. Zen was the key. Strong emotions, on the other hand, carried shades of middle school, and wings were a fuckton harder to hide than a boner.

He'd grabbed a coffee a few blocks back, and sipped at it as he walked. He couldn't have told you where in London he was, and he didn't care to figure it out. The chance to stretch his legs and be around other people was enough.

[miss_ives]

Vanessa was walking home from work when she saw him, headed her way on the pavement. Her step faltered, and she visibly paled, her steps slowing to a halt. He was such a vivid reminder of what had happened, its own sort of proof that it had indeed happened again. So very briefly, thanks to him.

[sauntereddownward]

Crowley had found himself wandering aimlessly through the city now that he didn't have one particular angel to annoy. Oh, he was sure they'd see one another again. Such was the way of things. But now- now it was just a lovely time to wile without being thwarted at every turn¹.

He could smell the grace coming toward him on the wind and for just the briefest moment he had hope ².

When he saw who it was his heart sank and a bitterness like venom rose in him, making his tongue sting.

"Well, well. Look what we've got here. Growing up a bit?" he asked. He couldn't see the wings, but it was incredibly hard to hide much at all from a demon of Crowley's stripe.

1. Not that he really minded that at all. It was a rather fun game. Cat and mouse where both parties were both cats and mice depending. Schrodinger's hunt, as it were.

2. Real Hope. With a capital H. That was when he knew he was damned. The worst part of being Damned was having Hope that one day he might get to feel his own Grace again. Hell on Earth.

[london_spy]

With Hex on sick leave, Danny was out of a job, which meant he was back to taking any small jobs that came his way. The latest being work as a dishwasher at a shitty chip shop, where tourists who didn't know any better popped in for a quick bite.

He'd worked a solid ten hours, and though his heart told him to go home and check on Hex, he sent a text instead, letting him know he'd just finished his shift and was going for a pint.

Just a few drinks, then he'd head home... And to his credit, he did just that, knocking back only a couple of pints before settling his tab and heading back out to make his way home.

He was less than a block away from the house when it happened. ...A voice, then something hard cracking against the back of his skull.

He barely registered the fact that he was on the pavement as he felt the thumb drive he carried on a chain around his neck being yanked off. The world going blurry as a small pool of blood gathered on the pavement and he fought to keep his eyes open.

[show_me_something]

Victoria had been on the other side of the street and a bit down the block when the attack happened, leaving her with the choice to follow the attacker or tend to their victim, and as for all she knew it was some random mugging, the victim was the greater concern. She crossed the street, drawing the wrap from her shoulders and efficiently folding it into wadding as she knelt beside the boy. Conscious for the moment, if only just. "You've taken a rather nasty bump to the head. Press this just where it hurts, dear," she said, placing the wrap in his hand. It was a quick way to see how with it he was, gave him something concrete to focus on, and if stopping the bleeding his job, her hands were free for other things."

[phouka]

The Phouka was out for a stroll, having nothing to do with the rest of his kin out for the evening. He considered Finlay kin as well, now. But with no one home he saw fit to take himself out as well.

He spied the assault from down the block and something about the man raised his hackles. He ran for him but the bloke was gone, speeding off in a car that pulled up and dashed off before the door was even closed.

He could only, then, attend to the man.

"Hello? Yes? Hello, are you awake, pet?" he asked, getting to his knees to peer at Danny's face.

Monday Evening

[prince_of_nymphs]

Stanley had woken him up first thing that morning, his voice tight and tense as he'd explained the situation.

There was a tape, apparently. A tape of Finlay, and another man.

That last part was very important, it seemed, since Stanley had repeated it more than once, sounding more upset each time. In fact, to Stanley that was far more of a concern than the fact that Fin was apparently stoned out of his skull in the video, or that some of the acts they'd recorded were the sort of thing that might make a 50 Shades loving housewife blush. No, what mattered was that Finlay had been having sex with a man.

"I'm openly gay, do you think the public is so thick they don't know I'm shagging blokes, Stanley?" Fin had asked while he made his morning tea.

"It's one thing to be gay, Fin. People, for the most part, have come around to that, thank god. But just because most of Great Britain has come to terms with gay people existing, doesn't mean they're ready to see it. You're not some girl from LA with a wobbly bottom. This gets out, and I promise you, your career is going to suffer. We need to buy this tape and get rid of it."

Fin had sighed, moving the phone to his other ear as he added some sugar to his tea.

"I'm not being blackmailed, Stanley. I'm not ashamed of who I am. If they release it, can't we just... I don't know, sue them?" he asked.

"It wont matter what we do if they release it. Things like this, Fin... Once it's online, it's there forever," Stanley warned. "If we don't buy this, I promise you, they'll sell it to someone else."

Fin promised to think about it, then hung up.

That had been hours ago. It was coming up on 6pm now, and Fin was settled in at his favourite cafe, working on his third latte while he went over the script for the one night only production of Love's Labour's Lost he was participating in on Friday. He had the papers resting on his knee, and he was sitting sideways in his chair, one arm over the back of it and his shoulders resting lightly against the wall. On the table his laptop was open, and though he hadn't paid it much mind, he did glance over when he saw a notification pop up.

The email was from Stanley, titled simply 'URGENT'. Inside was a link that led to one of those dreadful gossip sites.

Could This Be Finlay Flynn's Sex Tape?! the headline asked, followed by a short, and somewhat blurry, clip of two men entwined on a bed. There was a short blurb then, that suggested there was more to the video that they weren't ready to release yet, as well as a few slightly fuzzy stills.

It was definitely him, Fin could tell that much, but who was he with? It was hard to tell. ...Just how filthy was this video? What night had this been?

"Shit," he sighed quietly, putting his script aside and looking at the blurry stills again, his gaze flickering down to the comments even though he knew better.

Re: Monday Evening

[alcuin]

Alcuin wasn't planning on stopping when he spotted Fin at the cafe, since he looked occupied, but then he saw the expression on his face. And, unintentionally, he got a glimpse of what was on the laptop screen as well.

"... Fin?" he said, stepping to the side but in front of him, so that he wasn't looking over his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Re: Monday Evening

[sauntereddownward]

Crowley had a sense of things- bad things- and they seemed to follow him wherever he went. Or perhaps it was that he simply seemed to be around for the worst of things. When things got really bad he tended to go to sleep. Like the whole of the 14th century. But now-a-days wherever he was, there was surely something dreadful going on.

And he could sniff it out.

He had five shots of espresso with a splash of cream and he was making his way to a seat when he caught grainy footage on the laptop.Naughty footage. The demon grinned and sat right down.

"Now that can't be good," he said as if they were very, very old friends. Even though quite the opposite was true.

[alcuin]

This semester at school Alcuin had needed an arts elective, and so was taking a drawing class. He was somewhat self conscious about his skill as an artist (which he was certain was limited), particularly in contrast to Hannibal, who was so very talented. But now, almost at the end of the term, he was feeling much better about himself. Perhaps still not confident enough to show anyone his drawings, but better.

It was a beautiful afternoon, and so he'd taken himself to the park and sat there for a long while with a sketchpad, drawing his surroundings as well as the people that passed by.

It was only when he realized he was very thirsty that he stood to take a break, and a passerby bumped into him just as he did. He dropped the sketchpad, open to the last thing he'd been working on - and looked up to see that the person he'd been drawing was now standing right there, too.

"Oh. My apologies, that's a bit awkward. I was just - " His voice trailed off awkwardly.

[offthebeatenpath]

Jake and Em had set up a little ways apart from each other that day, but where they could still keep an eye on each other, and when it got slow for Em for awhile, she decided to pack up and cross the short distance to hang out where she could listen to him play better. And feel a little safer, when if anything, she was putting her flatmate in more danger instead of herself in less. With her thoughts on potential dangers, she somehow missed the more obvious danger and bumped right into someone.

"I'm so sorry," was reflexive but still true, and followed by, "Really. Not your fault I wasn't paying attention to where-" Em was so caught up in feeling terrible about not having seen the - absolutely beautiful, and how could anyone miss him - man, and brushing off any fault he might want to take on, it took a bit for her to realize what awkwardness he meant.

Her face felt on fire, the blush was so immediate, and she ducked her head as she waved off that apology too. "I do the same thing," she explained, as she bent to pick up the sketch pad and getting a better look at the drawing. "Parks are good places for it."

Sunday afternoon

[akatawitch]

Sunny's English degree was taking in all the Shakespeare. All of it.

Or at least what she could reasonably afford both in terms of money and time to do and see.

But when she'd heard about the performance of Queen Lear, well of course she had to do that. She'd seen a performance of The Merchant of Venice where Antonio had been played by a woman, and it had definitely brought out the possible sexual subtext of the play. Similarly she hoped that replacing the king with a woman would take some of the inevitable women-are-evil subtext and instead explore how parents and children of the same sex made natural enemies.

But she had time to kill before the play, so she was... reading the play in the park like a geek. There was a pencil tucked behind one ear and a highlighter behind the other, and she pulled out each at random intervals to mark up her text.

Re: Sunday afternoon

[winter_wisp]

Winter had been on his way back to the flat- And then he'd decided he needed coffee... And a doughnut. Then a game, and then some nail polish... And so he was a bit off track already when he spotted Sunny in the park.

His outfit was actually fairly subdued for once, headphones blasting something loudly into his slightly pointy ears as he made his way over and perched himself on the bench beside her.

"Why are you scribbling in that book?" he asked curiously, pulling his headphones off and trying to peer over at what she was doing. His music still blasting as the headphones hung around his neck.