londoncallingrpg | Entries tagged with phouka

Since returning to London so much in Fin's life had changed. Will had left the flat, leaving Fin alone, but with some new freedom. The young fae had still been a bit timid about taking charge at first, but he'd decided to gut the place. The once sterile series of white boxes connected by doors had been opened up to something more inviting, with rich wood floors and a more bohemian aesthetic. It was a writer's dream, with plenty of space for the fox to roam and play when being fae grew too exhausting. It was a tad lonely, yes, especially with Keats off living with Winter and Phouka, but it was better this way.

Control was an odd thing though, and after having a small taste of it, Fin found himself a bit addicted. He'd renewed his contract with the BBC, but not before insisting they give him more time to pursue theatre work. He'd agreed to do a short revival of his play, Reap, but on his terms. The theatre had wanted a huge production, but Finlay had put his foot down, insisting it needed to be simple- After all, in his mind, it was the simplicity that made it what it was. He dismissed scripts he didn't like, he turned down press he didn't want to do- And for the first time in a long while, he felt good. He felt sure of himself.

He was still looking too thin from his stay in New York City, but his appetite was returning bit by bit, and he was picking at a robust looking salad as he sat outside his favoured cafe with his notebook on his knee. His gaze combed slowly over what he'd already written, and now and then he'd put down his fork and pick up his pen, scratching things out and re-writing them. Under the table his foot tapped anxiously, going still when the fae paused and pushed his hair back out of his eyes, then beginning to tap again. He paid no mind to the occasional onlooker, thankful that in London, much like New York, most people were 'too cool' to ask for a selfie. He wasn't ready for all that. He was in control, and he was more focused than he'd been in a long time, but he was still recovering. Recovering from what had happened with Will, from everything that he'd been through over the last few years, and recovering from losing his sense of self.

He was getting there, but like all things, it would take time.

Putting his pen down again he picked his fork back up and poked at his salad a little, looking lost in thought as he skewered a bit of cucumber. These past few days he'd been keeping to himself. Honestly, he'd barely spoken to anyone who wasn't one of his managers or a business contact since he'd returned. He'd seen Pip, spent time with Greg, but he was isolating himself a little. Or maybe it was more he didn't know who to reach out to anymore. ...Either way, Finlay Finn was painfully alone.

(OTA. Late and slow tags all welcome.)

willysilver

The Solstice was upon them. When the sun went down the magic began to swell, the veil between this world and the Other Side thin as vapor. Mortals could sense it, even, though they may not have a name for it. They gathered together, not realizing the animal instinct of safety in numbers.

But all around the city, from the dark parts, fae began to come together as well. Unseelie filled the city- boggarts and Red Caps and things unseen for many a year with bright eyes and sharp teeth. But they were tricksy, dangerous and malicious but no worse than they ever were. The real threat, the ever present danger this year, were the Milesian that crawled out of the sewers and tube tunnels to prowl they city. They were hunting tonight. They had eyes black and soulless, eyes too wide for their white, gaunt faces. Larger than their eyes were their mouth. The smile of needle fangs glinted in the street lights. Long arms ending with spidery, spindly fingers reached and clawed at passers by from the shadows.

There was a war in the city tonight and the nature of the foe, the Milesian, meant no bound mortal needed to be near any battle. Death would come to one or the other if a killing blow came down.

But there was hope. Seelie fae prowled the city as well, fighting for Light and Air. Even the Queen had seen fit to step through with her sword and shield. Such was the threat to the Fae way of life that the Milesian presented.

The longest day of the year dawned but the sunlight did nothing to frighten off the dark forces. The longest day of the year simply meant the things that went bump in the night were attacking in the light.

(Tag in, tag around! Open all week so check back. Have fun with your adventures. If you don't want any Milesian, there are plenty of Unseelie, too. Day or night, whichever works for you.)

goodfellow

It was a good night at Saturnalia.

There was some b-list American rapper-slash-DJ who had shown up earlier in the day, and Robin was happy to throw someone on stage. It had gone over well right away, so he'd let him stay on. And now it was well into the evening and things were, as Robin understood the current vernacular to be, turnt.

In fact, at some point he'd thrown open all the windows so that the music blasted onto the street, and instructed the bouncers to let in whoever wanted in. He'd also instructed the bartenders to serve all the beer half price. The resulting crowd and frenzy was really something else.

londoncallingmods

Fin and Will had rented out the entirety of the theatre where Fin had gotten his big break, then brought in staff to deck the pace out in holiday cheer. The centrepiece was a grand looking tree that stood centre stage, with a DJ set up to the left, and Santa to the right, who was taking photos and handing out this year's goodie bags. Some of the seating had been removed to make room for dancing and food, but the balcony remained as it always was, for people to rest and get a good view of the celebrations below.

No expense had been spared, but it was, overall, a causal affair. Those who weren't competing in the ugly jumper contest were asked to dress tidy, but comfortably, so they could enjoy the festivities of the evening. From the music and food, to the affordable bar and little area set up to fill out cards and make donations for the local children's hospital.

Invites had been sent to their friends and loved ones, and inside each invite they'd tucked a few more so their friends could invite their friends also.

All and all, it was set to be a wonderful night.

prince_of_nymphs

It had taken quite a bit of time, but Fin was slowly learning how to focus his magic to make his vision clearer. It was odd, he'd spent so much time using massive amounts of energy and focus in an attempt to make it work- And yet, in the end, it had been his calm that aided him best. The more relaxed he was, the more at ease he became with his magic, the better his vision became.

So he'd taken a new approach to it all, practicing his magic alone in a quiet space. He spent hours just feeling it out, learning to flex it like a muscle and curl it like a finger. It had been remarkably simple once he'd learned to treat it like any other limb, and while he was no master yet, today he was out without his cane or sunglasses. His eyes still slightly milky, but focused. It wasn't perfect, a bit like seeing under water, to be honest, but it was <i>something</i>, and it was empowering to have his sight back and under his control.

He'd been all over town this morning, but for lunch he'd settled down outside a favourite pub, a pint by his elbow and a plate of chips in front of him for his lunch. At first he'd just been people watching, but after a few minutes a rather plump, and easily recognizable budgie landed on his table, chatting at him and hopping a bit.

"Hello Philip," he said, breaking one of his chips in half and offering it to the bird. The budgie peeped in approval, and Fin grinned as he watched the tiny animal devour the salty nibble. Such a simple sight, and yet it was wonderful to be able to enjoy it. "You'll explode one of these days," he tutted at the bird, pressing his fingers together and using his magic to construct a tiny little crown. It was light and thin, but it looked like gold.

"There you are, King Philip, slayer of worms," he said softly, placing the tiny crown on Winter's beloved bird's head. Philip clearly approved, and preened a little- Before looking annoyed when the crown slipped off his head and turned into little more than gold dust.

prince_of_nymphs

He wasn't terribly musical, if he was honest. He could sing, and he'd written lyrics for Will in the past, but when it came to instruments, he knew little. His piano was poor, his attempts at drumming when he was younger had been a failure, but he could play a bit on the guitar. It was a skill he was attempting to improve as he sat beneath a tree in the park, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he strummed to himself.

Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, and Keats lay nearby, keeping watch as much as he was keeping Fin company. A few stray chords settled into a familiar song, and Fin hummed a bit before removing the cigarette from his lips and starting to sing.

"The door slammed loud and rose up a cloud of dust on us. Footsteps follow, down through the hollow sound, torn up... And you will go to Mykonos, with a vision of a gentle coast, and a sun to maybe dissipate. Shadows of the mess you made..."

He fumbled a bit, swearing under his breath as he strummed a bit more, jumping ahead in the song.

"I remember how they took you down, as the winter turned the meadow brown. You go, wherever you go today..."

He made it through the rest of the verse before fumbling again and starting over, pausing to stub out his cigarette and give it a proper try this time.

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.)

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.

prince_of_nymphs

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.

prince_of_nymphs

Less than three hours ago Tevaughn had come crashing into his life. He should have been reeling from it still, and yet- No, not so much. If anything, the world seemed a bit more stable now. Things that had seemed strange or unexplained now made sense. The troubles of his past had a new context, and Fin- Fin found himself feeling more like himself than he had ever had before.

He was no longer cold, and though his heart was still filigree and enchanted, it no longer beat at random- It was steady, rhythmic and calm. The hate in his gut had been destroyed, and all seemed well. ...Everything had a price though, and this time the price had been something he was supposed to have surrendered a long time ago. Finlay Flynn was no longer mortal, undead or otherwise. Finlay Flynn was fae. Had always been fae- Only lost, then damaged, then nearly destroyed.

His skin was warm to the touch now, though it was still ever so faintly blue in certain lights, as were the whites of his eyes. He seemed taller now too, as though his bones had been stretched out slightly, everything sharper, less delicate.

The strangest thing, however, was the buzzing feeling in his blood. Magic, Tevaughn had said. Too weak now to do anything, but something that would grow in time. It might take weeks, possibly years, to come through, but- It was there. It was there, and it felt- It felt wonderful. It was like having something returned to him that he'd never even known he'd lost.

He knew he ought to go directly to Will, to hunt him down and tell him everything he'd missed- But for the first time in years, everything in the world just felt right, and Fin found himself sitting outside a cafe instead. No cigarette in hand, no pills or poisons, just a cup of coffee and an understanding that the world as he knew it was about to change quite drastically.

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.

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

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

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.]

prince_of_nymphs

He'd been working on the book since just after he'd lost his vision, and after a few re-writes and a lot of changes in his life, it was finally finished, and there was finally a release date and cover art. On May 17th Fin's book, The Rough Spark would be released, with a short book tour that would follow.

Tonight, however, was just about celebrating its completion and the impending printing, and Finlay had rented a large hall and invited all his friends, and his friends friends, to come and celebrate- And hopefully get the word out.

A large poster hung on the back wall, displaying the cover art they'd finally settled on. It wasn't flashy, but Fin felt it was a good fit, a single shattered light bulb with one tiny ember still burning inside. The party had a dark industrial feel to it's décor, but like any celebration it was also full of food, music, and drink.

(OTA. It's Fin's party, but treat it as you would any GP! Also, feel free to assume your pup received an invitation somehow, either via a friend or from fin himself.)

phouka

The first day of Spring had come and gone. The prince had left to the Seelie lands, but only for battle preparations. He was back with the full moon. Phouka had remained behind to see after Winter and Fin, though for them the days were much the same. In truth, Phouka was a bit bored. He longed for court intrigues and gossip. As a guard he'd never been a part of things, always on the outside, but he'd heard and he'd seen. Now he got his entertainment from the telly. He found it to be so contrived. It lacked fire. Passion.

And so with the prince back he had been given leave for the day. He immediately set out to find intrigues. He wandered the park, found a market, sat outside in the chilly air to sip a coffee and watch. Watch and see. Everywhere he looked he saw people with lovers, with friends. He didn't know their lives so some of the drama was lost. But at the cafe he found hope. On one side of him sat two women chatting incessantly about the one's disasterous love life. The friend concurred with the righteous anger over many, many men. On the other side sat a couple who, at first, were the picture of romance. But then he checked a text and the woman...well, she became a bit mad. Angry, yes, but Phouka thought she was absolutely nutters as she questioned him on who he was talking to, grilling him with such jealous fury the Phouka kept waiting for the man to leave. Watching them he saw what others might not see. The man was positively eating up her jealous outburst. It stroked his ego, clearly.

"Hmm." Just that. One small sound. And he sipped his coffee.

[Find him at the cafe or in the park, market, or on the street, wherever works best!]

winter_wisp

It had taken some time for Winter to grow bold enough to leave the flat again, and even now he stayed quite near the flat, sitting in a cafe that Fin had taken him to a few times and sipping the largest latte they had. It was gingerbread, apparently. Winter thought it tasted like comfort.

The pixie had taken a seat near the window, lost in an oversized armchair and reading a book someone had left behind. A mortal tale about a detective who seemed to solve mysteries for 'dames'. Great dames, Winter assumed, since he was always talking about how long this one's legs were.

Great dames were, apparently, saucier than Winter had thought, and were also prone to having their husbands shot.

"Bad dog," Winter tutted, turning the page and then lowering his book to glance at his drink.

Fascinating as the story was, Winter found himself constantly glancing about- As if expecting someone to attack. His heart fluttered every time someone passed his table, and his drink was always supervised. ...That's how they got you, the bad mortals. That's what he'd learned. They poisoned your drink with potions to make your forget and to sleep. ...These monsters who looked just like all the other mortals, impossible to spot. They were sneaky and they were everywhere- And Winter was sure it was only a matter of time before another attacked.

winter_wisp

Being mortal was boring. B. O. R. I. N. G. He couldn't fly, couldn't be small, couldn't talk to Philip or the cats, couldn't play in the tiny house Fin and Will had bought him. ...But that wasn't the worst part. No, the worst part was he didn't feel like a pixie. Even in Aspid's cage, he'd been a pixie, he'd been himself. Now? Now he wasn't sure who he was.

His hair had gone white again, and though he'd spent his pocket money on hot chocolate with extra cream, he did not feel the familiar buzz. It was sweet and pleasant enough, but boring. ...The world was boring. The answer to that boredom, in his opinion, would be to buy a mortal game to play- But games cost money, and without his powers Winter had no way of convincing people to simply give it to him. ...He would have to work.

After a lot of thinking and sulking, he'd settled on busking as Fae Willy did, going home and finding his little keyboard. Fin had noticed what he was up to, and after eyeing the tiny cat shaped keyboard had offered to take him to buy a proper one- One Winter could pay him back for later. Not a gift, but a loan.

Armed with a proper keyboard and a microphone, Winter had spent the day practising. Music came quite naturally to the pixie, and with a fair amount of songs to play he'd set out to find a good spot near the park, where he'd quickly set up and started playing. An hour later and his jar was half full, and he was smiling as he played one of his favourite songs from Fin's magic little box of tiny singing mortals- The radio, Fin called it.

When he finished he was smiling, pleased that he'd made some money, and feeling a touch less miserable about the whole mortal thing. Enough so that he thought he might call it a night and go get a beer. ...Just one this time.

goodfellow

One month ago, one of Soho's trendiest and yet least profitable dance clubs closed its doors. There were rumors for a while that the space was going to be turned into an upscaled gym, or perhaps gutted and chopped up into boutique shopping. But not much of anything seemed to be happening until just after Christmas, when the trucks were constantly parked by the service entrance and there seemed to be a flurry of activity.

Meanwhile, anyone who was anyone received a VIP invitation to the "pre-opening" of SATURNALIA, soon to be London's newest hot spot, but in the meantime hosting a huge party to ring in the new year. Togas optional but encouraged. Also receiving these invitations was anyone who even remotely knew Robin Goodfellow (or Rob Fellows), though his name wasn't on them.

The doors were also open to anyone, a line and bouncer required only because the space could only fit so many. But Robin had instructed the bouncer to be creative if not random with who he let in. As far as he was concerned, pulling in a street urchin or two over the hot starlets would not only improve the atmosphere but be good for business in the long run.

The doors opened at 9pm, and the place filled steadily as midnight approached. Inside, the club was clearly not finished, and there were many trappings from the previous space still in place - a large dance floor, several bars, private rooms, a couple of small stages for performances, an impressive elevated DJ table. For tonight, the theme was clearly one of the decadence of ancient Greek - decorations in gold and white and stone, replications (one would assume) of famous artwork of the time, including a number of statues. A copy of "David" cast in stone was a centerpiece, set up in an area that encouraged partygoers to take selfies.

The bars were not open, but prices were much cheaper than they should have been, coupled by the occasional appearance of Robin in his (somewhat skimpy) toga and gold-cast laureal wreath crown to hand out shots, mead, or wine to random partygoers. The point of the party was clearly not to make money but to build buzz, and from the length of the line outside after a couple of hours it was clearly working.

londoncallingmods

Merry Christmas!

You are invited to celebrate the season with Finlay Flynn and Willy Silver.

When: Christmas Eve (5pm – Midnight)

Where: Making the Modern World - The Science Museum

RSVP: By Email (SBMNGR@ldnmgmt893.co.uk) Before 19/12

Upon entry you'll be given a ticket for one free drink. All drinks after that are 5 each. There will also be a free buffet in the dining area.

Dress code: Casual, but tidy please!

Raffle: Come wearing a festive sweater and you will automatically be entered into a raffle to win a 65 inch TV.

Donate: Bring three tins of canned food to be donated to the local food bank, and receive an extra drink ticket.

Look forward to: A live DJ, live music, an appearance by Santa, gift bags with deluxe swag, and the company of old and new friends!

(OTA! Happy holidays! If you know Fin, Willy, Phouka, or Winter, feel free to assume they gave you an invite. If not, you can say your pup got an invite through a friend of a friend, someone who knows someone, ect. It IS invite over (no gate crashing pups please, Fin's a giver and would want everyone to feel included), but the pups hosting the party are pretty active and I believe they know almost everyone in the game. And the people they don't know surely know people who do. Even if you only met them once, you got an invite somehow! This gathering post is open all week, and beyond!)

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London Calling RPG

September 2017

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London Calling RPG

Entries tagged with phouka

OTA

Solstice War - Gathering

Saturnalia GP!

Christmas Party! (GP)

OTA (st/lt welcome)

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Gathering Post - Housewarming Party

Debut, OTA - The Hum and the Shiver

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OTA - Good as New?

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ota (TW for some violence and homophobia)

Gathering Post

Party Hard (Gathering Post OTA)

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NYE Gathering Post: Saturnalia

Gathering Post - Christmas Eve Party

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September 2017

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