willysilver: (Smile Blue)
[personal profile] willysilver
The Alpha boasted that it was the smallest bar in all of London, a point that was hotly contested by many other hole-in-the-wal bars around the city. It was a friendly rivalry and as with people's prefered football clubs, their pefered tiny bars caused some chaos from time to time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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


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.
wispofathing: (Guitar)
[personal profile] wispofathing
Curnen couldn’t hear everything people were saying around her, but she could guess well enough what they were on about. Probably given her torn jeans and spaghetti-strap tank top, they were wondering who this ratty little girl was in the midst of a city that was all shine, polish, and culture. Probably wondering what she was, since she was pretty sure she heard someone say "gypsy." Maybe someone who knew a thing or two about music was pointing out that her guitar was on the cheap end of the spectrum.

Maybe it was just her hands. She saw more than a couple of people point at them.

She ignored them, and it didn’t take much to see that it wasn’t her ability to give no fucks that let her do this. Quite the opposite. If she started paying attention to the derision, she was going to crumble and flee the scene. Rather, she threw herself into the tuning of her guitar, doing her best imitation of Bliss, who wouldn’t’ve let any of them rattle her. Who probably really wouldn’t notice. Bliss would have shut them all up with a joke and a beatific smile or something. But...

She didn’t look at anybody, instead turning her face up to the sky and at first allowing her voice to come out in high, mournful keening. Bliss’s voice was low and rough, all grit and smoke on the water. Curnen... well. Her voice didn’t have that kind of obvious sex appeal. When she was little, her family had always said she had a voice like an angel, and that was what it sounded like. The effortless notes rising from her throat were clear and ethereal, the song something she’d picked up from the ren faire circuit.

Abroad as I was walking one evening in the spring
I heard a maid in Bedlam who mournfully did sing
Her chains she rattled on her hands, and thus replied she
"I love my love because I know my love loves me."

The atmosphere changed at once, disdain changing to awe, admiration, and even tears, though Curnen paid no attention to that either. even as the money started making its way into her guitar case. It wasn’t until she took an instrumental break between verses that she allowed herself to look around her and offer a little smile from under her lashes as someone approached to drop a bank note into the pile.


Jul. 18th, 2016 10:10 pm
winter_wisp: (Default)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
He knew he wasn't supposed to go out on his own, that he definitely wasn't to sneak out and not tell anyone where he was going... But he was restless, and everyone was so tense and unhappy at the flat. ...Besides, he knew how to be careful. He knew how to make himself very small and hide himself away. His kin couldn't babysit him forever, and eventually they'd have to trust him to be out on his own. So why wait? Why not just go out now?

The club was loud, louder than usual he thought, and though he spent a good portion of the night enjoying the thumping bass and the press of bodies as they moved together with the music, it did, eventually, get dull. It was too hot, too busy, and Winter slipped back out into the night, smiling as cool air hit his pale skin.

Looking down, he grinned as he admired the lights on his shoes. They were cool. He was cool. He knew this because people in the club had told him so.

"Yeah, I'm cool," the pixie said quietly, pulling the pack of cigarettes he'd pinched from Fin from his pocket and lighting one.

Looking terribly pleased with himself, he started off towards the next club, unaware he was being followed.


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.


Jun. 28th, 2016 04:04 pm
offthebeatenpath: (in training)
[personal profile] offthebeatenpath
After the mugging that wasn't a mugging, Em had told herself she needed to get back into training, that she'd put it off too long believing this world would be less dangerous for her than the world she'd been taken from. But instead of doing something about it, she continued to procrastinate, until she got shot, and then she had to focus on her recovery before she could even consider fighting.

Months passed, Em healed, and she still relied on having a friend with her most of the time when she left the squat. But she hated feeling like a burden even more than she hated feeling this vulnerable. If she'd been back in Duninnean, she'd have been sparring weeks or more ago. So she got online and made a list of possible gyms that had free trials and started working her way through them. Mostly fight gyms, but a few more general ones which offered fighting or self-defense classes too. After a lot of reading and talking to some of the instructors beforehand, she stuck mostly to krav maga and MMA classes, as closest to what she'd been learning with Nina, who hadn't stuck to one particular fight style but had focused on what Em needed most to defend herself.

When the class was over, Em pulled a loose tunic over the tank and leggings she'd worn in class, and left the gym without hanging around to get to know anyone from the class or checking out what else the gym had to offer. Her cheeks were a bit flushed still with exertion, and tendrils of hair had slipped out of her french braid haphazardly framing her face and clinging to the back of her neck. She was out of practice, but not as out of shape as she'd feared, other than her hip needing a little more care than it might have before, and after three classes at three separate gyms, she was starting to see hints of improvement. Mentally reviewing the class, she shoved her hand wraps into the bag slung across her body as she stepped out of the gym, not paying as much attention as she should've for other pedestrians.

[OTA, slowtime and late tags are cool. Feel free to have seen Em in the gym, when she's coming out, or even to have been in the class if you want.]
lcrpg_npc: (night)
[personal profile] lcrpg_npc
While every week is a good week to love yourself and be proud, no week was better time to shout that pride from the rooftops than, well, London Pride. 

From Pride Ride, an epic group cycle through London, to parades, lunches, parties, massive club nights, and even comedy shows and concerts, there was no way anyone could be bored this week. There were ample opportunities to dress up in flashy clothes, reach out and meet other members of the LGBT community, and even just blow off some steam.

Some events of note to look forward to were the Natural History Museum June Lates, the already mentioned Pride RideSecret Soho Saucy Tours, and dozens of other events and fun times.

Something for everyone, and not  dull day in sight.


Jun. 11th, 2016 12:33 pm
just_hex: (Default)
[personal profile] just_hex
Danny was gone. A note saying his good bye and a mobile number out of service. Hex had checked with Sara, had tried Scotty, but Danny had simply vanished. In a city this size if you knew how it asn't hard. But that still meant Hex had lost another who he loved. Maybe he just wasn't meant to have a boyfriend. Maybe that wasn't in the cards. He'd gravitated toward Fin because he was, and always would be, his best mate. Hex felt comfortable around him. But Fin had Will and the other fairies by default. He had his family and Hex had...not a lot.

Yeah, he had Spencer's house and he had money piled up from work and the videos and he'd been writing the book Stanley had pressed him to, so he wouldn't be hurting. Not in any kind of security sense.

But he was bloody lonely. The house seemed so empty with Danny gone.

He couldn't stand it anymore tonight so he'd stepped up, done his best to dress nice, and went into a pub where there was good food, plenty of ale, games and even a small dance floor, though no one was dancing this early. He ordered a bacon sarnie and a pint and took a seat where he could watch the door. Making up stories about people sort of made him feel better.

A bloke walked in and recognized him on the spot. "Hex!" he said warmly. "How are you, you bastard?"

Hex chuckled. "I'm alright."

"I seen you've been out of A&E, what have you been doing?" the man asked, pulling out a card.

"Recovering. I get clearance to go back in two weeks," he explained, then took the card.

"Say goodbye to St. Bart's, mate. Come work for me. Better benefits, better hours, all the danger and none of the bother. Driving an ambulance is the job for you," the bloke asssured him.

Hex smiled.

"I'll give you a call when I'm cleared," he said, happy for the first time in days. A medic. An ambulance. A change.

The bloke moved on and left Hex to his meal.

[Whatever pub you like, join him for dinner, see him through a window, text him to find out where he is...open to anything]


Jun. 9th, 2016 06:46 pm
faizel: (observe)
[personal profile] faizel
“It's too hard,” Winter whined, face planting into his notebook dramatically. They were currently sitting at a small table outside a cafe, but it seemed the fresh air wasn't enough to keep the pixie from getting twitchy.
This had been going on for the last ten minutes now, and while Faizel knew he was pushing the pixie by asking him to make it through two hours of tutoring, he also knew Winter had to learn to be still and focus for longer than only an hour at a time if he was to survive a mortal school.
This was, honestly, the exact opposite of what the wizard usually did, but he understood why he'd been asked. Winter needed a tutor who understood not only what he was, but why he was the way he was. 
“It's not hard,” he said calmly. “You're bored, that's not the same as incapable.”
The pixie whined again, sitting back up and looking genuinely distraught. “We've been sitting at this table for days. ...Weeks. Definitely weeks,” Winter sulked.
Sighing, Faizel glanced at the time. Nearly 120 minutes on the dot. Winter had made it to 110 before his little melt down. That was forty whole minutes longer than last time.
“Alright, alright,” the wizard said softly. “No more maths today. How about I get us each another coffee and then I'll walk you home.”
Winter huffed, leaning back in his seat. “I don't need walking home,” he sighed. “Fae Finlay says I do, but-”
Faizel hushed him, frowning slightly. “Winter, you must stop calling people by what they are. I know it's ingrained, but you can not do that.” Though now really wasn't the time to scold the pixie he supposed, given that Winter looked about ready to explode if he didn't move around a bit. “It's just Willy and Fin, and I am just Faizel. Say it, just our names, and then you can go buy our coffee, and a sweet cake of some sort for having made it through such a long tutoring session.”
Winter squirmed, then sighed.
“Finlay, Willy, and Faizel,” he said calmly.
Faizel smiled and handed over a few notes. “Go on, get us each a coffee and a treat for yourself, then I'll walk you home.
Winter nodded, but the moment he was out of earshot, he just had to get it out of his system.
“Fae Finlay, Fae Willy, Fae Finlay and Willy,” he whispered to himself before getting on line.
(OTA, late tags v. welcome. Tag Faizel outside at the table, or Winter inside. Or, if you'd like them both, tag them both at the table after Winter returns. Though I will eventually send one of them off. XD)
goodfellow: (dark)
[personal profile] goodfellow
It had taken considerably longer than Robin anticipated, thanks to some building code issues that had pushed back his renovations by months, but following the thrown together "preview" on New Year's Eve (that had gone very well if he did say so himself), Saturnalia was finally officially open for business.

The inside of the club looked somewhat different than it had in January: more polished now, better decorations, furniture, lighting. There was still Greek inspiration, particularly in the murals on the walls - modern, graffiti-inspired versions of Greek art and myths, bright colors splashed amidst chrome industrial decor. Most of the employees (bartenders, dancers) were wearing togas.

The grand opening was a hot ticket, but Robin had sent out invitations generously, and instructed the bouncers at the door to let in the beautiful people as usual, yes, but to be rather random about it as well. After all, what was the fun in only the rich and beautiful?

Alcohol was free flowing, and the music was hot, spun by a DJ on a stage who seemed to have the perfect sense of the crowd. He may have even had a little help by magic. Because why leave these things to chance?


May. 28th, 2016 04:36 pm
phouka: (Beauty)
[personal profile] phouka
The Phouka was free, though he'd not done much with that freedom. He'd not gone anywhere, nor had he left Winter to himself. He still followed him around the city, ready at a moment's notice to protectthe pixie.

Willy had scolded him and then had given him a thick stack of money to go shopping. The Phouka wanted to protest that he was quite capable of changing leaves to money but the prince would hear nothing of it. He simply ordered the Phouka to shop and eat and enjoy himself.

The creature did not much like being scolded, and he had not been free long enough to feel alright with defying the prince's direct order.

He thought of the discussin of clothing with Winter the other day and so when he went shopping he did not go to his tailor, nor anywhere where they sold what he might normally wear. Instead he went to a shop that sold denim and had found a few pairs of jeans. He had bought new boots and new shirts and changed into the new clothes before heading out. It was like wearing a new skin. He had to admit they were quite comfortable. The denim and shirt were soft and his jacket was softly coloured, the fashion this spring. He always wore vivid jewel tones so the softer colours were curious on him.

He carried shopping bags laden with clothes and shoes representing thousands of pounds spent with the ease of a man who had money to burn (or a faerie who cared nothing for money).

Now to find food as his belly was making it known he needed to fill it with delicious meats and fruits. He did not know of anywhere around here to eat so he pulled out his phone and began to fuss with it, trying to find the food app. He didn' tuse the device enough to be an expert...and he probably never would be.


May. 15th, 2016 05:11 pm
winter_wisp: (touch)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
It had been some time now since his attack, and though he still wore a few faded bruises that stubbornly refused to fade, the streaks of purple and blue across his fair skin were not what was bothering the pixie. Guilt clung to him, weighing him down, waking him in the night, and dampening his mood. It didn't matter how many times his friends and kin insisted he'd just been protecting himself, pain stabbed through his heart any time he let his mind wander to that night.

He'd replayed it over and over in his head, the man's words, the feeling of his fists and the pain that had left him weak and breathless- And the feeling of ice as his power had reached out to protect him. He hadn't meant to harm the man, but there was no undoing what had been done. All Winter could do now was live with the pain of knowing he had taken a life while defending his own.

Not wanting to be fussed over or worried about, he'd taken to going out more during the day. Wandering the city and wasting hours at the library or the shops. Anywhere quiet and calm, really.

Some days he made his way over to a small ballet school near the centre of town. Through large glass windows he'd watch the girls inside learn their positions and practice their jumps. They were so graceful, all smiles and giggles, even when their teacher's voice grew stern and they all rushed to get back into place. Winter found he envied them- But also found comfort in watching them dance.

Usually when the class ended, Winter would leave, but one day the instructor had signalled for him to come inside, and Winter had been curious enough to do just that.

"This is the third time you've watched one of my lessons," she noted. "Do you dance?"

Winter bit his lip, then shook his head. "Not like they dance," he said as the girls shuffled past him and out onto the street. "They're very elegant. I'm not sure I could be that."

The instructor raised a brow, then smiled. "No? Well, I do like a challenge..."

He'd been going daily since, learning at a rate that Miss Fairlite insisted was very impressive. She waxed on about natural grace and ability, but Winter found, for once, he wasn't interested in the praise. He didn't come to be told he was good or talented- He came because it felt good. Because the music made his heart patter in a way most of the music he devoured usually did not. ...Because for nearly an hour a day he felt free of his guilt and worries, his full focus on the dance and Miss Fairlite's instruction.

It was wonderful. Better than ice cream even.

(OTA. Feel free to have seen Winter dancing through the window and either come in to watch, or meet him outside after. :D)
winter_wisp: (touch)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
The past week had been an odd one. Apparently Fin had been filmed sharing a bed with a man- And apparently that was bad. Winter didn't fully understand why that was bad, but he had tried to. Honestly. He'd even assured Fin that he'd seen plenty of naked people making love online, and that it was very nice- But Fin had looked vaguely upset by that, and had simply begged Winter not to tell him any more about what he'd been watching online, or how much he'd enjoyed it.

...Ever again, actually.

Still, this problem had opened the door for Winter to ask more questions than he usually would, and by the time Saturday night rolled around, he was armed with more knowledge he had been the week before. ...He certainly understood why people were so often inviting him to the toilet when he was out clubbing- That made much more sense now.

He also found it had altered the way he viewed his dance partners. Were they just having fun, or did this person hope for more than just a dance? When people touched him, was it just a touch, or was there more to it? Sex was something Winter had always been very aware of, but he'd never applied the possibility of having it to anyone other than Phouka, and perhaps his pixie kin. The idea that sex could happen with anyone was- New

And so Winter had spent the night toying with this new idea. Dancing a touch more provocative with some, avoiding others. He didn't think he wanted to have sex with any of the people he danced with, but kissing... Kissing might be nice. He liked kissing.

He'd kissed one girl right on the dance floor. She'd smelled of vanilla, and her lip gloss had been so shiny and pink... When she'd leaned in close as the music slowed down, he'd leaned in a bit more himself, pleased when she met him halfway and invited a long, slow kiss. She'd tasted like cake icing, but not long after she'd been dragged off by one of her friends, a taller girl with smudged mascara, and eyes that looked red from crying.

"Drama," his new kissing friend had said, rolling her eyes and scribbling her number on the back of his hand.

After that he'd danced alone for a while, before growing bored and moving onto the next club. This time most of his partners were men. They did not smell like vanilla, nor was there any lip gloss. Also, he noticed now how much more sexual it all was when he danced with other men. As though most of them only wanted to dance if they thought they might get something more as well. 

When it was time to leave, his last partner followed him out into the cool night, smiling at him and then gently pushing him back against the wall. Winter had started to panic- But then... Then the man had simply kissed him. Slow and sensual... It was lovely, and when the man pulled away, he only smiled, telling Winter to have a good night.

His pixie heart was fluttering, and he was so gleeful he hadn't noticed another man approach- Not from inside the club, but from a bar down the street.

"That your boyfriend?" the man asked.

"No, just a friend," Winter said, still smiling as he shook his head.

"Yeah? You got a lot of friends?" the stranger asked.

It seemed like such an innocent question, but there was something about the way he asked it that made Winter uneasy.

"I do, yes," the pixie nodded, pushing away from the wall and deciding now was the time to leave.

"Hey now, where you heading? You don't want to be my friend?" the man laughed, catching the pixie's shoulder and shoving him back against the wall.

Things seemed to happen in an instant after that. Winter tried to pull free, and the man struck him hard across the face. Once, then again. The pixie tried again to get free, but the man was much larger, faster as well it seemed, and his fingers curled tightly into a fist as they slammed hard into the pixie's gut. Winter crumpled slightly, his brown curls going white as shock turned to upset- And then anger.

Before the man could strike him again, Winter's magic took over. He wasn't some weak creature in a cage any more, nor was he a child. His magic, just like the rest of him, had matured and grown since then. Though it wasn't until this moment he realized how much.

The man stood frozen- Quite literally. No longer a man, only a figure made of ice.

"Shit," Winter said quietly, still doubled over slightly as he stared at his creation.
lcrpg_npc: (Default)
[personal profile] 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.]
faizel: (worry)
[personal profile] faizel
It was chilly out that evening, not cold, but cool enough that Faizel had pulled on his favourite long and sweeping overcoat. The dark emerald green stood out against the rich tone of his skin, and the deep burgundy of his shirt. Each step he took offered a flash of the green and gold brocade lining, and together contributed to the very distinct look the young wizard leaned towards. A careful mesh of what was familiar, and what passed as 'normal' in the mortal realm.

He'd paused to get coffee and a pastry in a small cafe, and though he was attempting to decide which delight to call his dinner, his gaze kept drifting to a fair haired boy near the front of the queue. He was petite, with bright blue eyes and short, white blonde hair. ...And Faizel was certain he knew him.

Their eyes locked briefly, and it seemed that they each made the connection at the same time.

"Winter," he gasped, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

The pixie was already moving though, leaving his place in line and rushing out the door, causing Faizel to do the same.

"No, Winter! Wait," the wizard pleaded, chasing after the spry creature.

He could have used his magic to end the chase in an instant, but the last thing he wanted to do was spook the pixie any more than he already had. He understood well why he would run, but wished he would stop for just a moment and allow him to speak.

When he turned the corner, the pixie was gone.

"Winter, please... If you're here- Just come out. I only wish to talk. I don't mean you any harm."

(OTA! Winter can still be there and hiding if you'd like, or the pixie can be long gone. You can have had your pup have seen Faizel chasing him, or simply find him in the alley. It's up to you! Also, DW isn't sending me notifications still, so I might be slow.)


Apr. 9th, 2016 11:14 am
winter_wisp: (b & w)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
"Why can't I go?" Winter asked, frowning and resisting the urge to stomp his foot as he watched Finlay fight with his tie and attempt to get his hair under control- Even though it seemed determined to curl up in loose waves in every which direction.

"Because, as I explained before, it's an event for adults. You'd stand out like a sore thumb, Winter," Fin sighed, glancing at the pixie as he spoke. "You wouldn't even enjoy it. It's going to be all classical music, and wine and cheese. You'd be bored instantly. Why don't you go out and do something fun, hmm?"

Winter scowled, glaring at the back of Fin's head. "I am an adult though. I am older than you, Finlay Alexander Flynn," the pixie reminded him coolly.

Fin took a deep breath, doing his best not to let that hot little spark in his gut get the best of him as he counted to ten before speaking. They'd been arguing about this for nearly an hour now, and honestly Fin was reaching his limit.

"Fine, legally you're an adult," Fin agreed. "But you look like you're barely of age, and you behave like a bloody child most of the time. You're an adult pixie, but we're not in Never Never Land, or wherever it is you hang out when you're not here. If you want to be treated like the adult you claim to be while walking among mortals, Winter Wisp, then you need to grow up and behave like one."

The little pixie looked furious. ...Or, well, as furious as a pixie could look. 

"That's racist," Winter declared. "I can't help that I am small and youthful!"

Fin sighed, rolling his eyes. "Winter, I really don't think you know what that word means, and as a tiny, little blonde white boy, I wouldn't go throwing it around like that. ...Why do you even want to come to this party? Truly, I ask you that in all seriousness. Is it just because I told you no? I don't believe you're actually keen to put a suit on and listen to Chopan."

Winter didn't honestly know what a Chopan was, and he scowled again. "Fine, you're right, I don't want to go. It's a stupid party, and I don't want to spend the night looking at your stupid, undead face anyway."

Fin rolled his eyes again, then shook his head. "Your pocket money is on the counter. Why don't you order a pizza and rent a game or something?" he suggested as gently as he could manage.

"No, I'm going out," Winter decided. "I'll go do something actually fun!"

Fin hummed a little, then nodded. "Take your phone with you then. No taking drinks from strangers, no getting in strange cars, and if you're out past midnight, check in. ...And remember what we talked about."

Winter was too huffy to think about what had happened in the past, or the talk Fin had had with him about how some people had bad intentions. So the pixie simply waved his phone in the man's face before grabbing his money and stomping out the door.

It was a slightly chilly night, and the pixie wished he'd thought to wear a coat as he went from one club to the next. The first place hadn't been too keen to let him in, claiming there wasn't a good 'man to woman ratio', whatever that meant. However, the next place had practically whisked him off the street, waving the cover charge as they ushered him inside.

Within minutes people were buying him drinks, which Winter was mindful enough to only take when they came directly from the barman. Though for all he avoided having anything nasty slipped into them, he still indulged in a few too many. Soon enough he was on the dance floor, where strangers were all too happy to touch and get close. Winter liked the attention, but he wasn't sure he liked the contact. It was so forward and familiar... It made him feel a bit like he was back in his cage.

At one point a man cornered him near the toilets, and though Winter flirted gamely, he didn't like the way the man took that as an invitation to touch him.

Outside on the street wasn't much better. The world seemed to tilt and wobble, and the pixie scowled at the pavement for daring to shift beneath his feet.

"Rude," he told it. "How am I to walk when you're wiggling?"

(OTA! Find Winter in the club or outside on the pavement.)


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London Calling RPG

September 2017

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