londoncallingrpg | Entries tagged with crowley

Strange things had been happening in London lately. ...Actually, strange didn't really cover it. Sinister, exceptional, insane, dangerous- Those were all probably better descriptors. What was about to unfold this weekend, however, was something else entirely. A few years ago dozens of Londoners had found themselves transported to a mystery house on Halloween. That had been a terrifying experience for most, but this- This was terrifying in a very different way.

During the last week of September, handfuls of random Londoners had woken to find themselves in a boarding school known as The Dirgelwch School For Exceptional Youths. Some awoke in the suites and small on ground housing intended for staff, finding themselves unchanged, but with a feeling that this was where they belonged. ...What they were meant to be doing. They knew what subject they taught, they knew their schedules- And though something in the back of their brains nagged at them, letting them know something had changed, they simply couldn't figure out what it was.

Others awoke in dorms, finding themselves having just crossed into adulthood, at the beginning of their last year and itching to graduate. Again, they woke knowing something had changed, but what that thing was felt slightly out of reach.So they went to class, they reconnected with friends after what seemed like a long summer apart. Life went on, as it does, and though it all seemed terribly innocent, there was drama and tension bubbling up inside them all.

(Gathering post! You can have your pup wake up as a teacher or a student. Feel free to invent NPC's, and to assume that even in this strange little AU that magic, vampires, and all those other lovelies are very real. How much your pup has forgotten or remembered about their life prior to this plot is 100% up to you. If you want them to wake up absolutely confused by this whole situation, that's fine (though i hope a few people play along, I think that'll be fun). The boarding school is closed off to the rest of the world (Picture large metal gates and watchful groundskeepers), and the school itself is a lovely old brick fortress of a building, out in the middle of the countryside. Questions or concerns? Pop into the slack! This post will be open for several weeks, but in game will only last a weekend. Have fun! Tag in, check in often!)

winter_wisp

Winter had taken to sleeping late, curled up on a pile of pillows in the sun room and wishing fall would come a little faster. Summer was so hard sometimes, it wasn't his season, and he missed the cold. He still shared a bed with Phouka most nights, but when sleep failed him in the middle of the night, he crept up to the top floor of the tree house, built a little nest, and sat reading books by the soft glow of fairy lights. Then, when sleep did finally come for him, he just curled up in his nest of glittery and pretty pillows and let it wash over him.

It was nearly noon by the time he woke, and the pixie staggered about in a groggy haze as he set about his morning routine. Teeth polished nice and shiny, to keep the tooth fairy well away (What kind of fairy collected teeth after all? Not one you'd want under your pillow, that's for certain), face scrubbed and fresh, even though a moment later there was always, always, glitter on his cheeks again anyway. ...Not applied, simply there. Then it was time to do battle with his hair. Today his hair was shock white, the curls soft and short. Winter never wondered why it was or wasn't this, he simply accepted that his hair would be as it wished to be, and dressed accordingly. Lately he'd been dressing quite plainly, but today he found himself digging a bit deeper into his closet, emerging in a bright and unusual jumper, along with a pair of colourful trainers.

He was just headed down to the kitchen when he heard a strange noise, and he went still on the steps as he tried to work out what it was.

"Shh! You're making too much noise!" a voice whispered.

"No, you are!" came another. "Besides, we have to make noise or he'll never wake up!"

There was a loud clatter, like a wooden spoon hitting the floor, then the sound of laughter, like tinkling bells. "Who won't wake up?" the first voice asked.

"Winter! Remember? We're visiting Winter, Soot, that's the whole reason we came!"

Wandering down the last few stairs, Winter peeked around the corner just in time to see two pixies on his counter attempting to open the five-pound bag of gummy bears he'd not yet broken into. Soot, an almost rosy and dusty skinned pixie with short and silky black hair, and eyes like tiny chips of obsidian, was currently attempting to drag the bag across the counter, while Moss, a very pointy looking pixie with wild grey hair and eyes to match, was currently attempting to remove a knife from the butcher's block.

"Oh, shit!" Winter gasped, rushing over and removing the other pixie from the knife and putting him down on the table. "You're gonna slice yourself in half, you twit!" he scolded, though that only prompted more giggles from the pair. "Winter!" they squeaked, launching themselves into the air and circling the pixie. "We're here! We're visiting!" they chirped.

"I know, I can see that," Winter replied, yelping when Soot pulled his hair.

"Make us big! Make us big! Let's play!" the pair chanted.

Winter hesitated a moment, then sighed. If his friends were here, there was no point in keeping them tiny. They'd only make more mischief that way.

"Alright, alright, stay right here. I'll be right back," he said, opening the bag of gummies to ensure his energetic house guests didn't wander. Moss swiftly swooped down to steal one, snatching it from the bag and then tumbling down onto the counter with the plump green bear.

Suddenly Winter understood all too well why Finlay had, at one point, always looked like he had a headache in the morning. ...He almost felt sorry about it too. ...Almost. Winter hadn't quite mastered guilt yet.

He returned a moment later with some of his potion, and he lifted the pair off the counter before offering them each a dose. This, of course, only prompted more excitement and chaos, but eventually, Winter had them settled down and dressed in much more mortal friendly garb. It would have been ideal to keep the pair tucked away in his tree, but his kin were having none of that, and soon they were all settled in at a table outside Starbucks.

"Ow!" Winter yelped, as Soot pulled his hair for the seventh time that morning. "Stop it. You're just trouble!" he scowled.

"You're trouble!" the dusty skinned pixie squeaked happily.

"I'm pretty sure Trouble lives in that village near the wizard school," Moss supplied helpfully. "She's pink now you know, wings and all."

Winter couldn't help himself, and he smiled a little at the thought. "It would be very nice to be pink, I think," he admitted.

"Or lavender," Soot said wistfully. "With pretty pearl wings..."

"I like your wings," Winter said, shaking his head. "They're like cobwebs. No one has wings like yours."

Soot perked up a bit at that, looking very pleased. "I am very unique."

"Hey! I have good wings too!" Moss insisted, forgetting the potion had vanished them temporarily, and trying to show them off. This was enough to send the pixies back into a pile of giggles, and the sound of pure joy filled the air with a hint of magic and sweetness all around them.

londoncallingmods

London was a magic epicenter of sorts. Between doors to The Otherside, dormant and active portals, and an active wizarding community, it was a hub of energy, more so now than it had been for quite some time. The city was experiencing a magical renaissance of sorts- Which sounded lovely and made it a prime place to be for those exploring and studying magical energies, but wasn't so wonderful for London's more 'normal' sorts.

Magic didn't care if you were a dark lord or a banker, if it liked you, it liked you- And it was impossible to guess who it would like.

Today magic energy was at an all time high. Another blip in the usually somewhat steady stream of power that flowed through the streets. As a result, odd things were afoot- From mischievous inconveniences, to darker disruptions. Unlike the portals, these bothers were a touch more subtle, creeping up unseen on the unsuspecting.

Last time around the magic had seemed lighthearted and playful- And some of it still was, but... There was an intensity to some of it this time, harking back to the troubles that seemed to roll around every Halloween now. Something wicked was caught in the current, and while it wasn't out to harm everyone, it did seem keen to target a few.

(OTA. Just like the last time, the magic can affect your pup however you see fit. Unlike last time, however, some of the magic has taken a darker turn. It doesn't have to do something wicked to your pup, of course, but the option is there now. This post will be open from 7/18-7/28 or longer if needed. Tag in, tag others, and check back often.)

londoncallingmods

The press weren't talking about it, but there were whispers on Twitter- Chatter about strange events, odd happenings. Little pockets of London where seemingly impossible things were happening. ...Except no one seemed to be able to get photos of these 'strange occurrences', and as we all know, if there are no pictures, it didn't happen.

A girl near the Thames had tweeted about seeing what looked like tiny creatures dancing across the surface of the water. A man on the underground had reported his bag briefly floating a foot off the ground. A boy in Topshop had tweeted about his own reflection trying to have a chat with him.

Those with magic in them could feel it. Little bubbles of playful power popping up all over the city, then vanishing again. Like a pot of water that never quite reached a boil. It was a gentle kind of magic though. Soft and playful- Not from the other side or any other part of the world, but right here in London. It was old and forgotten, and very keen to play with everyone- Magic and non-magic alike.

(Open all through next week and next weekend. Have the magic effect your character however you like, but keep in mind that this magic, whatever it is, is very pure and playful. It wouldn't cause harm- Though maybe inconvenience.)

londoncallingmods

Lucky in love or not, London was a lovely place to find yourself on Valentine's Day. From romantic walks through various parks, to intimate dinners or shared deserts in the many restaurants and cafe's- There was something for everyone, because if wandering or dining wasn't for you, well, there were plenty of organised events to attend.

London couldn't claim to be the city of love, but it was certainly a city of possibilities.

whispersoflove

Coby wasn't home, and hadn't left a note for him, so Anael was walking through the streets of London to get to Alcuin's home, enjoying the chill in the air, the way his breath fogged on the way out, the ebb and flow of love in the hearts around him. Hands in his jacket pockets, he paid no mind to the odd looks he occasionally received for wearing nothing but a denim jacket over a t-shirt in this weather.

It began as an itch in his back, a barely there scratch where his wings would be. He did not think much of it, only shifting his shoulders the way he normally did when the urge to let them out came over him. But then the itch burrowed deeper, and increasingly hotter, until it was more of a burn than anything else, and his lungs were alive with it.

He'd hurried into a side street with little foot traffic and leaned against a wall there, his breathing short and heavy. He tried to cloak himself, but he couldn't keep a hold on the miracle through the pain he was so unused to, and he collapsed to his knees as he heard words in a rough language that scraped against every fiber of his being, a language of Hell. His wings wouldn't come out and he folded to his side on the wet ground, seeing shadows on the other side of the street. They were all saying the words, out loud and right into his mind, and one of them came forward, a pair of boots stopping right in front of him. They pulled his t-shirt collar down and drew a symbol between his collarbones, their fingers red with - blood? The symbol felt like it was searing into his flesh. Anael cried out, physically as much as spiritually, praying out to God with all of his being.

The words ceased suddenly, pain abating slightly, and the dark figures dispersed as someone ran over to him.

alcuin

The call had come at about 6:30 in the morning. Alcuin had been the most frequent phone number in Hannibal Lecter's phone logs, and he had no next of kin. They needed someone to identify a body. They had already established that dental records were a match, so this was really just a necessary formality, they told him once he was at the police station, sitting there numbly. There was no need to show him the body itself, someone explained kindly, as to be frank, it was burned beyond recognition. But two pieces of jewelry had been found on it.

The attendant handed Alcuin a watch and a ring. They were Hannibal's. He felt like throwing up.

They told him they were still investigating, but the house was nearly entirely gone. The rapid nature of the fire's spread suggested accelerant. Arson. In other words, though they did not say it, murder.

They had let him keep the watch and the ring, and gave him the number of a grief counselor, and a police officer told him that they would be in touch about the investigation. They'd also asked him where he had been the night before. The answer was home, alone, and Alcuin felt sick with the knowledge that he could somehow be a suspect in this. Again.

He'd said as little as possible during the entire ordeal. Tried to think as little as possible. It was nearly 9am by the time he emerged from the police station and onto the city sidewalk in what seemed like impossibly bright light. He took a couple of deep breaths and then bolted over and retched into a trash can.

goodfellow

It was exactly one year since the pre-opening of Saturnalia, and the club had become even more successful than its proprietor had anticipated. In celebration, he opened its doors again for a blow-out of a New Year's Eve party, bringing back the theme of Greek decadence from the year before. Now, mingled against the typical industrial decor of the club (smattered with graffiti style murals of Greek myths), there were decorations of white and gold and reproductions of famous artwork, including a replica of the David statue in the middle of the floor.

Many in London had received invitations, including anyone with even the most distant connection to Robin Goodfellow, along with extra invitations as well. There was also a line outside, and the bouncers had been instructed to allow people in with some amount of randomness. After all, what fun was there in a party only filled with the rich and beautiful?

Unlike last year there was no expectation of any particular dress code, though there were many dancers and employees in the crowd in the skimpiest of togas to admire.

Alcohol was for sale, bartenders were talented, and also those employees in skimpy togas made their way through the crowd with shots and glasses of champagne on a regular basis. There were many dark corners and private rooms, and the music even made for dancing was sexy. All in all, it was clear that the theme of the night was modern hedonism.

winter_wisp

It was his birthday. ...Not the exact date, but the time when things had aligned in a way that had made the pixie what he was. He was Winter, and so today was his day. Sure, he shared it with plenty of others, but that didn't make it any less his.

He'd never really celebrated it though, not since he'd been terribly small. ...Smaller than usual, that is. However, this year felt like the year, this was the right time, he could feel it in his bones. He needed to celebrate, and to throw the biggest party any pixie had ever thrown. From the tree-house and through the park, there were decorations no one could explain, and music coming from a band that always seemed to be 'just a bit that way' or 'just a ways over there', impossible to find, and yet somehow everywhere..

And then there were the special guests, his friends from back home, each had been sent an invite, along with just enough potion to help them pass for mortal for the day. Though how well they passed seem to vary. Many arrived in the clothes they always wore, dresses woven from petals, shirts made of leaves... Magic was everywhere, coaxing life from sleeping trees and leaving the weather in a tizzy, from warm, to snowy, then back again. It was an only barley controlled bit of chaos, but Winter didn't mind, he was surrounded by friends and had no reason to do anything but smile.

(OTA, use this like any GP. Feel free to assume your pup was invited or are just happening upon the chaos. Also, feel free to have the pixie magic effect your pup or the world around them as you see fit, just remember it's mischievous and lighthearted, not dark or destructive.)

londoncallingmods

The weather today had been fairly pleasant, a mostly sunny day wedged between fairly grey ones. It wasn't warm, but the chill was minimal for this time of year, and there wasn't a drop of rain in sight. As night crept in, however, the streets slowly faded from sun kissed and painted in autumnal colours, to foggy and damp. An odd thing, really, since the forecast had predicted a clear and pleasant night.

It wasn't normal fog either, it was denser, thicker, and it carried an distinct scent, like cinnamon sugar and chestnuts. It was so thick it seemed to drain the streets of their colour, leaving the wold desaturated and grey. More importantly, anyone with a bit of magic in them would sense, quite quickly, that it wasn't of this world. It crackled quietly with power, dark and heavy. Unfriendly.

It was around nine pm that the local police stations began to receive calls, things they assumed were pranks at first, but soon began rolling in so quickly and frequently that it seemed something more was afoot. The evening news spoke of mass hysteria, warning people to stay indoors. Conspiracy blogs were lit up with chatter of chemical warfare, and some 'airborne drug'. There were reports of people seeing everything from long dead loved ones, to killer clowns.

Though despite the nervous chattering of talking heads and twitter addicts, most people were paying the supposed danger no mind. Clubs and bars on every block were blasting music and throwing costume parties, people were out with friends, wandering the streets and looking for a fun time. It may have been Monday, but that didn't seem to be stopping many people from enjoying the holiday.

For the most part, everything seemed fine. ...The crowds and groups remained oblivious to the danger of the fog. ...It was only those who slipped off on their own, to have a quick smoke, to get some air or head home early. They were the ones in danger, they were the ones who's darkest fears seemed to emerge from the thick fog.

Around 10pm, reports started to come in regarding a body found in Whitechapel, cut open wide and left to bleed out. No prints at the scene, no signs that anyone else had even been there. The CCTV footage had somehow been rendered useless, glitched out and blurred. A trouble echoed by every other security camera on the street. It was enough to set twitter and the internet off all over again, with talk of how the things seen in the fog might, somehow, be real.

(Happy Halloween! The fog is bringing fears and spoops to life! You can make the creatures and fabrications of the fog as personal or general as you like. Whatever works best to spook your pup. If, for any reason, you don't want your pup to see any spooks, that's totally fine too. It's not a required plot. Unlike last year, this time around the creepy things your pup might see can harm them and do real damage. Though they will vanish in the morning. If your pup is sensitive to magic in any way, they might sense that this magic is distinctly fae. If you have questions about what you can or can't do, just ask in slack! Though really, the only limit here is your imagination. Remember to check with other players before doing anything that might seriously hurt their pup, ect, ect, and have fun!)

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!]

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.)

quartermaster_q

It had started China, a simple enough mission. It should have stayed there too, but how was Q to know that they'd been followed home? He couldn't have, but as Q hitched his bag up higher onto his shoulder and continued running he couldn't help but wish they'd been more cautious.

He ducked into the first alley he passed, pressing himself against the wall in the shadows, praying his pursuer hadn't seen him slip away. With his back against the wall, he could feel his heart pounding. He wasn't equipped to fight anyone right now, and contacting Bond would be a challenge- Since he'd shattered his phone when he'd first started running. Hiding was his best option, but just as he'd started to feel sure that he'd lost the other man a hand seemed to come out of nowhere, pulling him forward, then slamming him hard against the wall.

The fight was not a thrilling one. Q took quite a beating, and it was only the mace in his pocket that saved him in the end.

Limping and beaten, he hobbled along the street, trying not to draw too much attention as he pulled his hood up to hide his bruised face.

prince_of_nymphs

He'd packed two suitcases, then prompted Winter to do the same. The promise of a pool and pizza for dinner had been enough to stop the pixie from sulking, at least for now.

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

Fuck them all.

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

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

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

"Fuck them all," he muttered again.

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.]

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.)

winter_wisp

Lately Winter was out and about again, enjoying London and absorbing the culture- Well, the pop culture anyway. His outfits grew louder and more outragious each day it seemed, and the music he played grew thumpier and trendier every week.

Tonight, however, the pixie was dressed down, wearing mostly black as he loitered outside a shop that offered piercings and tattoos. He was itching for one of each, wanting to fit in more with the mortal youths he danced with every night. To look more like the faces he saw in magazines and online.

He wanted to be different from his kin, by being more like the mortals. ...And yet here he stood, unsure and nervous, unable to take that first step through the door.

prince_of_nymphs

The music had been loud and thumping all night, booming and vibrating through the floor and into his bones. Words faded into synthetic chords, humming and buzzing, until it was less a song and more a sound. The music was constant and thrumming in a way that raised you up to euphoric heights and refused to let you back down. Was it good? Did it matter if it was? This wasn't Mozart, it wasn't about talent or leaving a lasting mark. It was a quick buzz, a long toke. It was a good night set to a heavy bass line, meant to be enjoyed only in the moment, not picked apart and analysed, or judged and critiqued. It was bubble gum, meant to be chewed up, and then spat out the moment it lost its flavour.

By the time the DJ's set wound down to something slow and soft, Fin was still as pale as ever, but he felt flushed and bright inside. There was glitter in his hair and caked to his skin, gold and shimmering as it clung to his cheeks and the exposed line of his collarbone where his shirt hung half open. With a cigarette between his lips he looked more like a rent boy than a well known star, and few seemed to recognize him as he loitered outside the club, smoking and letting the cool air help him come down.

He'd shaved recently, and without the beard he looked years younger again. It offered a hint of anonymity, something he was glad to take advantage of as he watched couples come and go. It was freeing, and it made him a touch bolder as he stopped the next person to pass him by.

"Got a light?" he asked, stubbing out his finished cigarette and pulling out another. "Mine's dead."

utterly_mysterious

A girl couldn’t rely on regular customers forever, especially not a girl like Angelique. She was a novelty, she knew. A fetish, even. Not a long-term sort of mistress, but a way to scratch a very, very particular itch.

That suited her quite fine. She got bored with them well before they got bored with her.

Case in point: walking through one of the city parks on a drab London Saturday, Angelique made a splash in a cinched-waist long pink coat and black leather boots, a bold flower on a gray day. Her unique style, Victorian-expired with modern tailoring, made her memorable -- especially to people she would rather forget. A small group of young men were gathered around a park bench not far ahead, talking and laughing loudly, and Angelique recognized them from a recent stag party who hadn't been entirely happy with her services.

With a burst of nervous energy, Angelique quickened her click-heel steps and swept up to the side of the nearest convenient person. "Be a dear and pretend like you know me for the next ten minutes," she requested, dark eyes glinting with mischief over a barely-suppressed little smile.

*******

A girl like Angelique couldn’t drum up new business just anywhere, nevermind the fact that her primary profession was actually illegal. She had to be careful about where and when she gave out her card. Bars here and there in the LGBTQ-friendly parts of the city were welcoming enough, but she had to work at it. That meant a lot of drinks, a lot of flirting, and a lot of strolling the pavement in ridiculously high-heeled boots.

She was tragically exhausted by the time she found a high-backed seat at the bar of a trendy hot spot popular with the queer community, later that night. Her day had been exhausting, and she deserved a drink. Just sitting down in her dress and corset in this club was like a neon Open for Business sign,which was exactly what Angelique wanted. She ordered herself a strong martini, crossed her ankles in ladylike fashion, and waited to be approached. They would come to her, sooner or later.

((OOC: either at the park or later at the club, Angelique wants to meet you!))

jageskro

It was like an itch you knew you weren't supposed to scratch. A lot of things had become clearer to Jag, about himself, since he'd watched Hex's videos, and somehow, the closer it came to the time Val would be back, the more Jag wanted to give in to his 'old' habits and do something really stupid. Start a bar in a fight with an arsehole or two, and get hurt.

It was as far from healthy as he could get, he realised, and that was why he hadn't started a bar fight in over a month now. He was in a bar right now, having a pint and trying to resist the desire to walk over to the bastards in the booth right behind him. Their racist, homophobic conversation wasn't making it easy on him. He was waiting for the misogyny to make an appearance, really. He'd barely touched his pint in the last ten minutes and was gnawing on his thumb's nail, feet propped on his bar stool, one leg bouncing.

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London Calling RPG

September 2017

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London Calling RPG

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