Black Dawn - A Supernatural RPG.

Hello all just wanted to say that there's a good chance the RP will be getting a One-Up and becoming active again. There may be some changes, reorganization, but it'll still be the awesome RP that it was - possibly/probably better!

As far as existing threads, if you'd like to continue ones that got left behind, feel free - if you want to completely nix a thread or change plots/your character at all, let a mod know and we can work with you.

There will be a post in the next week or so with more details. :)

Toby clutched his arms, soaked to the bone after the windy storm had sent his umbrella to God-knows where. And to make things extra pleasant, there was some snow starting to fall with the rain. "It's the middle of April! Why the hell is it snowing!" He pulled his handy rum bottle out of its rightful home in the inside pocket of his jacket, swallowing a large gulp. "That 'aught to bring a bit 'o warmth to these dead hands." He snickered at the bad pum and continued staggering down the street, singing songs so old most people's grandparents wouldn't even know them. "Through the tunnels he's-a-calling," He sang mindlessly, oblivious to the fact there was no such song but he sang with the same jazz spirit he had back in 1927. Peering up from the sidewalk he looked down the hazy street which was already coming back into focus and so he threw back another long drink from his bottle, finish it off. "Damn this metabolism" He complained, holding his now empty bottle upside down frowning at the lack of booze dripping out of it. He shrugged, straitening his jacket. "Guess I'll have to find something else to stave off this thirst." He frowned, now sober he was realizing how long it'd been since his last feed and for New York, catchable rats were in short supply. He was going to need some help if he was going to avoid biting the next human that he saw.

Who: Jude
What: Drawing
When: Saturday afternoon
Where: Central Park


It was a perfect Saturday afternoon; the sun shone down from a cloudless sky and the warmth it made was only complimented by the cool breeze. It seemed almost too perfect, like it would be more at home in a television sitcom from the 1950’s. The park wasn’t busy which was odd for a Saturday but nice. Sometimes a moment of quiet was all that was needed. An escape.

Jude sat on a bench with his legs folded Indian style and his sketchbook on his lap. His green eyes moved idly over the surroundings and only occasionally flicked back down to the sketchbook. The page it was open to was blank and had been so for about the last half hour. He had come to the park hoping that the fresh air and a change of scenery would bring him a little inspiration. It hadn’t. Not even close. He had started a picture on the previous page of two older gentlemen playing chess but, disappointed with it, he had left it unfinished. His thoughts were just…elsewhere. He was too distracted to draw anything of worth.

It had been a day since he had last seen Demetrius and Jude was beginning to have doubts. One moment he’d feel so breathlessly happy it should be embarrassing and then the next…the next he’d worry he was doing the right thing. Maybe it wasn’t possible to feel this way about someone he was only just beginning to know. Maybe he was imagining it, desire and loneliness creating feelings he wished for. And yet…what he felt for Demetrius was so strong--so intense. It had to be real. He felt like a small boat moored in the middle of a storm. Violent waters pulled him this way and that, threatening to snap the rope that held him in place. Thunder clouds crashed overhead, lightening flashed, and water pounded down from gray skies. He was helpless, at the storm’s mercy. It was terrifying and it was thrilling. He was taking a risk and he wanted to take it with every fiber of his being. But…was he wrong in wanting it? Was he making a mistake in going after it? It wasn’t…it wasn’t too late to end it. He could--He shook his head; call him selfish or just plain stupid but he wasn’t willing to give it up.

Jude bit down on his bottom lip and his gaze returned to his sketchbook. Thoughts warred with one another. He wondered if he should say anything to his ghosts. He hadn’t yet. Whether it was because he feared (and knew) what they were going to say or that he wanted to keep this as only his for a little while longer he didn’t know. But he did need someone to talk to. It was pathetic how few friends he had. Few being none, of course. A quiet sigh escaped and he pushed the thoughts away, trying to tuck them back in some corner of his mind. Leave them there for now; dwelling would only make him question himself more and he didn’t want that right now. Not when thinking of Demetrius could make his heart race the way it did. With nothing solved and worries still looming over him, he dragged the pencil across the white sheet of paper and began to draw.

Who: Justin
What: Leaving work
Where: just outside of Last Chanve Records
When: Around 5pm-ish

Last Chance Records had been everything Justin could have ever wanted in a store—let alone, it was anything he could have wanted in a job. The people were, for the most part, nice. Some were more musical elitists than others, but it was nice and refreshing in a way. Most of them were either surprised that he knew so much and could actually carry on a conversation or debate about certain bands, where others found holes in his knowledge to be appalling. Needless to say, it was all pretty much a learning experience. He wished he had a place more like this in Virginia. Imagine how different (perhaps even snobbish) his views would be on music. Would he sit there dissecting it more than he already did? Take apart the whole and not simply enjoy it? He liked music; loved even, and he didn’t want to be one of those people who didn’t enjoy it but saw it… well, it was like the critics. Movie critics, even. They tended to judge a movie on its message and its artistry and picked it apart for their review. It seemed that some of them lost the fact that movies were meant as entertainment. Sure, just the same as music, there was the fair share of crap out there. Basically, Justin didn’t want to forget the fact that this was something he enjoyed. He didn’t want it to be something to criticize.

He had been working there for a couple of weeks; maybe even a little over a month—he was never good with the concept of time. And he absolutely fucking loved it. Sure, it was just a job, but it was nice to be around people who were semi-like-minded. Again, it was refreshing. Danny had assigned him the fun task of alphabetizing a section while double checking their inventory. It was then that he had come across it. No, it wasn’t the holy grail of CDs, but still, it was one of his favorites. Justin chucked the CD onto his cart and kept on working. At the end of his shift he purchased it with the employee discount (not a bad deal, considering Danny let them have first dibs on new merchandize—within reason).

Justin pulled out his cell... but, he wasn't in the habit of having many friends. It was like he forgot who he had even thought to call. His thumb navigated through his phone book, trying to find the one person who he thought would actually appreciate his find. Kira. Justin worried on his bottom lip, finger hovering over the call button as he weight his decision. He hadn't called her back because of the whole werewolf thing. Sure, as a person, he liked her. So far, she was interesting and seemed to, at least in some way, shape or form, get him.; that was rare. But, he wasn't sure he was ready to have his worlds collide. He was so apt to pushing his wolf side away, suppressing it and pretending that it didn't exist. Kira hadn't brought it up, but Justin still had that voice in his head, like a warning. But, really. What danger could there be in a phone call and hanging out?

Throwing caution to the wind, Justin hit send on the call button and brought the phone up to his ear, hoping she wouldn't be offended that he didn't call sooner.

Who: Ashleigh
What: Leaving work
Where: Cafe Diem
When: Just past 7pm

Finally. Once the clock struck seven o’clock, Ashleigh made her way towards the backroom, glad that none of her tables had lingered and that she hadn’t been assigned another table when her replacement didn’t show up. Of course, if she had been assigned another guest, she wouldn’t exactly argue; it wasn’t quite her nature. She would simply wait the table and leave late, that was that. But, as she entered the break room and untied the string of her apron, she let out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t that she hated her job or anything, sometimes it was just extremely tiring. And today was definitely one of those days. The hours seemed to drag on for way too long, so much so that once it was past the midway mark of her shift, she found it difficult for her to keep a smile on her face and that polite façade present.

Folding her apron haphazardly over her arm, she turned the combination of her locker to retrieve her purse. Ashleigh pulled out her large canvas purse on the table behind her before shoving her apron into the now empty locker. Her body seemed to beg her to just hurry home and collapse onto her couch. Kicking off her plain black sneakers seemed to be at the top of her list. But, despite those protests, she knew she wouldn’t get to do that right away. First, she had to stop by the book store and pick up that used book she had ordered (Ashleigh was cutting it close by picking it up today, she had put it off until her next paycheck but wasn’t sure if Sandy would have been nice and held onto it for her, or simply sent it back), head to the grocery store and pick up some fixings for dinner. Was that it? She wasn’t quite sure if those were the only two errands she had to run. Pulling the elastic out of her hair, Ashleigh brushed her fingers through her hair, making sure to get all the snarls out of it. Her mind wandered, trying to find out if she was missing something… Ashleigh shook her head; she really should start making lists.

From her bag she pulled out a change of clothes and walked into the staff bathroom. Now, this wasn’t customary of her to bring a change of clothes with her. She never really had anywhere to go after work, so she didn’t always get the point of changing and wasting a good pair of clean clothes. But, some days—like today—you just needed it; especially when your work clothes seemed to smell a bit like the diner. It wasn’t bad when she was working, but smelling like fries was not an attractive quality.

Once she was finished changing into her most comfortable, if slightly tattered, jeans and a ribbed maroon tank top, Ashleigh made her way back to the break room to throw her jacket on and toss the strap to her bag over her shoulder. Pausing for a moment to eye the schedule and make sure she had her hours left, her brown eyes scanned the weekly and shrugged slightly before heading out of the backroom.

Who: Nate & Albus
What: Out and about
Where: Starbucks / the park
When: 7-7:30 AM

Nate felt wired. He was up much later than he thought, but he was finally writing the last chapter of his newest novel and he was worried to stop. He’d been mainlining Hersheys and Dr. Pepper for the past hour. He considered switching to coffee, but that took time to make and he wasn’t leaving his computer for more than the minute and a half it took him to go to the bathroom. His fingers were barely moving fast enough for his sugar-high brain that he felt like he was making quite a few errors, but typos he could deal with another day. Right now he needed to purge himself of the words cluttering his brain.

Typing out everything and barely reading it, he felt drained and also wired. His head killed, his fingers felt ready to blister, and his back was very sore from sitting for so long in such an uncomfortable position. His eyes were straining for staring at a computer screen for so long and he’d long lost feeling in his legs. He had already been editing for hours before his muses decided to grace him at 3:20 AM. But as a writer he was used to random bouts of creativity, though since college he’d started to try and train himself to keep a somewhat more normal schedule. The past week, however, he’d found himself easily distracted and unable to finish his first draft, which his publisher wanted on Monday. Nate supposed he’d always been one to work best under pressure, but he almost felt ready to vomit. Or maybe that was the result of too much sugar. He was so going to regret this in the morning.

Once again trying to focus back to the world of Charlotte Hanley and her investigative team, he wondered if she was going to get out of this latest predicament without the loss of a team member particularly close to her or if she was going to save the day at the last minute. He was as invested as any of his fans, the characters had a life of their own and he was merely the conduit to the page. People thought he was crazy, he preferred eccentric, but he loved to write. Not to mention finally getting paid a living to do so, which was even better. He glanced at the clock, which now read 5:57 AM. He was still wired, not sure when he was going to crash but as it seemed to be no time soon, he decided a shower and some real food might be a good idea for his system. Quickly showering, forgoing shaving, Nate got dressed and stared at Albus who was looking at him sadly, then back to his food bowl. “Okay boy, breakfast,” he nodded, filling the dog’s bowls before his own. He looked back to see how many pages he’d done in the early morning hours and decided an actual coffee was the least he could do to treat himself. He grabbed his messenger bag and Albus’ leash before heading out the door.

He was blessed, or cursed depending on your point of view, to live just two doors down from a Starbucks. At just shy of 7:00 AM the lines were already forming with the early workers. Lucky for him, he had connections and traded first editions for line-cutting privileges with the petite goth girl who was a barista there. She made his latte and handed it to him from the side, to the groans of half the line. With a smile and a finger salute, Nate left the store, tossing a doggie treat to Albus before heading towards the park, wondering who all was up at this time of day.

Who: Paige & crew
What: Dancing with the gays!
Where: club downtown
When: 11:00ish.

Paige lay upside down on her bed, absently strumming her weathered acoustic and singing softly. She was, as Hope inelegantly put it, in a mood. She sighed, staring at the ceiling and wondering where things went wrong. This had been one of the worst weeks in a very long time, and she was just about ready to throw in the towel. First she was sick, and subsequently failed her midterm. She got into an argument with the guys shortly after losing her barista job because she was stressed over money and their rent was due. Her mother kept calling her asking when she was going to visit home next, a couple times a day to the point where she shut off her cell phone. Which was fine since one of their standing gigs called to cancel and Paige was sure if she turned on her phone the messages would be nothing good. She wanted to curl up in bed and ignore the world. Just listen to and write and make music, drink the rest of her vodka and sleep.

She knew she should probably shower, but that required energy. And it’s not like she was going anywhere. She had skipped classes today, and then the weekend was coming up so she had three days of uninterrupted bedtime. She let out a heavy sigh and let her eyes close, preventing her from seeing someone enter the room. When Brody jumped onto the bed and bounced a few times she shrieked in a very unladylike fashion, toppling right off the edge of the bed.

“Well that’s one way to get your stinky ass out of bed,” Brody snickered. “And who knows if you go clean yourself up and go out of the damn house you might find someone other than your guitar to sleep with,” he poked her hip as she stood.
Paige just eyed him evilly. “Did I invite you in? I think not,” she braced the acoustic up against the wall and slid back into bed, head on the pillow this time. “Just g’way,” she mumbled into the pillow, feeling more tired than she should. She was just so drained. If her own emotions weren’t bad enough, everyone else’s were killing her. She needed to meditate, to rebuild her shields up again, but that also required effort.

“No no no. Up!” Brody grabbed her ankle, starting to pull her off the bed. She grabbed the pillow, intending to swing around and bash him in the head with it but he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, once again causing her to let out a small ‘eek!’. “Now let’s get to the clean portion of our program,” he said, dumping her on the floor of the bathroom. “You’re not leaving until you shower, then I’m making sure you look okay. Hope’s out getting you new clothes since she wasn’t sure if you had anything clean and wasn’t brave enough to deal with your closet,” Brody told her with a huff, before turning towards the shower and flipping the water on. “Jer is making you food. Which you’ll eat and enjoy and thank him for. And then we’re all going to a club. End of story, chica.” With that he turned and left, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

Deciding fighting it would just be childish, she got into the shower and remained there until her fingers were pruny. Stepping out, she grabbed her robe from the linen closet and walked to her room, where Brody was waiting with Hope, looking over the clothes she had on Hope’s bed. I guess when Brody said club, he meant it. The fabric was shiny and minimal, and there was far more sequins involved than on her regular wardrobe. “And what is it that you expect me to wear?” She raised one eyebrow. Hope held up what Paige assumed was a dress. It looked like a disco ball. “Really, Hope?” Paige couldn’t help the snark in her voice. She hadn’t eaten in days and they wanted her to wear that? She was in no mood to be so…sparkly.

“We’ll save that one for another night. Let’s go with the striped one I got,” Hope held up a black mini dress with shiny colors striped through it. Still very flamboyant, but she could deal. She grabbed it, but before she could put it on, Hope held out another bag. “For under it,” she smiled, which worried Paige. She went back to the bathroom to dress since her room was occupied and found a shaper-type contraption that looked like breathing was optional. When she put it on Paige found it acted like a pushup bra and had built in-underwear. Slipping the dress over it, she had to give Gabi credit. It wasn’t her normal wear, but it worked. She stepped out and back into the bedroom, where Brody and Gabi applauded, and Paige finally did chuck the pillow at their heads.

Twenty or so minutes later, her makeup and hair were done and she had just about all of Brody’s antics as she could stand. Seeking refuge in the kitchen with Jer, she found their makeshift table set and a full meal prepared. Suddenly she felt like a putz for being a grouch the last couple days. She hugged hello to Jer and stole a breadstick. “This looks amazing… thank you,” she said with a smile. They all ate, loudly as per usual, and Jer took a quick shower as Brody got dressed to go out. Gabi was already outfitted, of course. She never left the house without looking her absolute best, even to go grocery shopping. The clock struck 10:00 as they headed out the door and it was then that Paige realized she had no idea where they were going.

“This new place has a Gay Night tonight, so we have to go and see if it works,” Brody informed her when she asked as they were piling into the van. Paige nodded, as trying new things was one of their common things as a group. They parked once they got to the city, walking a couple blocks then down an alley before knocking on what seemed to be an inconspicuous door. They all got carded and were stamped, once through the second door the music, lights, and general chaos hit them full on. It was very packed already, and everyone seemed to be having a great time. The guys broke off as she and Gabi made their way to the bar.

Who: Cristiana
What: Business, then out for the night.
Where: Her place, then a vamp nightclub
When: Late. Obviously.

( Cut for length... )

MOD POST

Hey all... it's a new year. So, how about some posts? There are characters who've never posted, and a lot more that haven't in some time. And tag, at the very least.

Now before the hypocrisy police come and take me away, yes I know I've been lacking in doing just that. But I'm working on it. I have a computer again, and lots of free time thanks to joblessness... so you'll see posts from me up in the next couple days.

GO, er, TEAM? *cracks whip*

Who: Samaire
What: meeting with the wrong end of a blade
Where: Back alleyway
When: After midnight

It was well after midnight before Samaire called it a night. The moon hung high in the onyx sky and it was nights like these that even in a city teeming with people, one could still feel completely alone. She pulled her black wrap around sweater tighter around herself, in attempt to ward off the crisp breeze. Normally, she had Nathan or Johnny drive her home, but it was a decent night and she felt bad having someone else wait on her while she worked late into the night. No, instead she decided to walk the six blocks from the office to her apartment. Plus, it wasn't as if she lived in the Bronx, or that she wasn't a witch who had a power that could be used defensively.

Cutting down an alleyway, Samaire found herself surprised by something lurking in the shadows. Seconds before he moved, she allowed her eyes to linger on a part of the shadows that was slightly darker than the rest of it. She passed it off as nothing, thinking it was simply her mind playing tricks on her. It was best to keep moving. Then there was a flicker of movement, but before she could actually allow it to register, it was all over. In a flash he was upon her, she caught the glint of the knife in a split second before he plunged it into her side. the fair haired man twisted the hilt of the knife, a soundless cry escaped her lips, shock registering upon her features. Her whole world felt like it was shattering around her. The man drew it back, and a sickening, liquid sound came from her stomach before he drove the knife into her three more times. Her world went silver and grey, her mouth parted in a silent cry as Samaire's fingers grasped onto her attacker's arms. The world around her seemed to slow; halt. As if everything had been moving full speed until that three inch curved blade found its sheath in her waiting flesh.

"Daniel DeTagle sends his regards," The man spat at her with a glistening fanged smile as the ground rose up to meet her. Somehow, she had managed to by laying on her back, eyes staring up at the stars. She could swear that one went out, as she let out a shuttering breath, warmth entering her mouth as she coughed up her own blood. So this was how it felt, leaving the world. Painful, scary-- alone. Oh god. She was completely alone. Panic rose up and seemed to gather in her chest, heart clammering so incredibly loud that its seemingly final beats reverberated in her ears. She didn't want to leave now, she had so much more to do. Maybe this was all her fault. If she took the vampires threats seriously...if she brought it up to the council sooner... maybe...maybe...

Fuck.

Her vision went black for a moment before regaining sight. No one would help her now. And this was it. A life of little more than twenty years, few accomplishments-- and this was it. A few strokes from a metal blade and she was done for. The world's youngest crone and within months of retaining the role, she was brought down. Now all she could do was wait. Count the seconds before her untimely demise. Moments that dragged and seemed to last for days. Life was fleeting afterall, Samaire couldn't help but thinking that her own was pointless, she hadn't done all that she was supposed to... she had dreamt of change. Setting the world ablaze with new ideas; something. A cough escaped, blood wetting her pale lips as her eyelids fluttered and the pain engulfed her thoughts.

It wouldn't be long now.

Who: Jude
When: Early evening
Where: Streets of New York/His apartment
What: A side-effect of seeing ghosts

Jude awoke to the sensation of being roughly jabbed in the shoulder as a gruff voice slurred, “Hey! You! That’s my bench! Hey! Get up!” He opened his bleary eyes, confusion marring his sleepy features, and found himself staring at the unshaven, grime-coated face of a homeless man. Startled, he sat up abruptly, his back pressing firm against the hard, wood back of the bench. He was in Central Park. In the middle of the night. And he was in his pajamas. How did he…? Dark realization settled in his stomach like a block of ice.

Possession. The word made his heart take a sickening flip-flop. It was as if in being able to see and talk to ghosts that Jude’s perception of the Other world had been blasted so wide open that anything could slither its way into his mind. Ghosts did just that. Those with unfinished business or maybe even those who just had a longing for the corporeal life took over his body and made it their own. He’d wake-up later with no memory of what happened. Sometimes he woke at home. Other times…it was places like these; park benches and street corners, alley ways and seedy motels. There had been one morning he woke still chasing the heroin high a junkie spirit in need of a fix had gone after. Thinking of what his body could be doing without his knowledge or consent made him feel ill. What had happened this time? What did he do? He went cold again and his stomach rolled nauseatingly.

The vagrant violently poked him in the shoulder, pulling him from his unhappy thoughts. “My bench!” the drunk shouted, stabbing him again with a dirty forefinger.

“Alright, alright, I’m moving.” Jude stood and the cold ground bit at his bare feet. Hugging his bare arms to his t-shirt clad chest, he took a few more steps forward. His gaze briefly rose up to the night sky. He could indistinctly see grey clouds could float across the inky black sky. Troubled shadows flickered behind his green eyes and a worried frown turned down his lips. Behind him he was vaguely aware of the grumbling homeless man climb up onto the bench. His thoughts were elsewhere; the possibilities of what he had been forced to, how his life so rarely seemed in his control, how all this living on the outskirts of everything wasn’t really living… He was as much a ghost as the real things were. With a sigh, he turned away from the dark heavens and started what would be a long walk home.

It was still early in the evening and the streets were far from empty. The city that never sleeps was at the height of its nighttime bustling. Jude walked without hurry, keeping his gaze ahead and trying to ignore the strange looks people gave him as he passed. A few more blocks and he’d be home…

Who: Jess
When: A little before midnight.
Where: The streets of New York City, heading toward a bar.

It had been nearly a year since Jess had last stopped by at this particular apartment of his. He wasn't a city boy by nature--at least, there had been a time when he hadn't been--and every now and again he felt a pull. It was something that existed within the soul of him, deep in the recesses was remnants--a spark--of the primal. It existed in every person be they human or shapeshifter or witch or vampire (and, predators though they may be, there was no arguing the domestication of vampires). It was quieter in some than in others but still...it drew the tame to the savage, the civilized to the wild. And for him? Go west, it said. The gunslinger had been alive long enough to know the feeling never completely went away so he listened to it sometimes. But it wasn't always west he went.

Jess just traveled the world and visited those places barely or still untouched by human hands. He fulfilled that longing for the rural and untouched with other sights; ancient civilizations, deadly jungles, cruel winter lands, endless deserts, and countryside that stretched far and wide... He had seen it all and loved it all and yet, for some reason, he always came home to New York.

Having dropped off his belongings at his apartment, Jess stepped out onto the dark streets of the city that never sleeps. He leaned up against the brick wall, lounging with that care-free, lazy grace cowboys were often depicted with in old west films. Jess watched as the night life hurried by; people old and young, beautiful and hideous rush about their lives. Beating hearts pounding blood through veins. Feeling a small stirring of hunger, he smiled. A fellow vampire, arm-in-arm with a teenage girl, passed and he nodded in greeting. Then, pushing himself off the wall, he disappeared into the night in search for something to occupy his hours.

Who: Samaire
What: Another late night at the office and confrontation
Where: Er. Office.
When: 1AM

Swamped was an understatement for the head witch as she sorted through the piles upon piles of paperwork that lay on her desk. What happened to the old, my word is my bond thing? Being a witch shouldn’t mean contracts and the like. It should be simpler to be the head crone. Samaire picked up her fifth coffee of the day and took a large sip of it, a frown pulling down the corners of her lips. It was ice cold. Using her free hand, she pulled the bulk of her hair over to one side, allowing it to spill over her left shoulder, while her right hand continued to mark places on the page, noting a disagreement or something that wasn’t quite worded to her taste. Maybe she would’ve been a fantastic lawyer instead of a Crone. It seemed as if with every passing day she got further and further away from what she wanted to be doing, and more like a head of a huge business firm. It all left a sour sort of taste in her mouth. She wanted a vacation. A time solely to herself without strings or obligations to follow through with. Sure, it was a bit selfish, and Samaire knew she could never in a million years abandon her post, but a girl could still dream.

Letting out a sigh she set down her pen and stood up from her chair, legs stiff from the hours she had spent in the same position. Samaire picked up her coffee and made her way to the kitchenette down the hall, stretching her legs as much as she could as she went. But she didn’t quite make it down the hall, a tall almost looming figure stood just before the doorway she was heading for. She jumped backwards a bit, spilling some of the contents of her mug on the marble floor.

“Sorry, I did not think anyone else was here. What are you—“ But that’s when she looked up to meet the sparkling hazel eyes of one Daniel DeTagle. Her jaw immediately set itself as she inclined her chin slightly. “And here I thought you said you were going to make an appointment.”

Daniel offered a toothy, all too wide smile in Samaire’s direction. “I figured you wouldn’t mind a visit from an associate after hours. Besides, appointments are so…informal. I thought we could just meet now. You’re not busy are you.”

That smile made her want to set him ablaze right now. Samaire clenched her free fist closed and tried not to allow him to get a rise out of her. “I’m always busy, you should know that. Comes with the job title.” The vampire ran a hand over his hair as if it were simply out of habit. There was far too much product in his hair for it to actually need any real sort of touching up.

“Then, I’ll cut to the chase,” He circled around her fully, almost predatorily. She didn’t have to take this from him. The games, the harassment. She would draw up a charge against him in the morning, give a call to the council and have them deal with this. Samaire needed to bring this to light, they couldn’t allow an enclave to exist. Not if she had anything to say about it. “Did you rethink your position on my proposal since we talked last?”

The witch offered an overly sweet smile to the vampire, and placed a hand on her lip. “Not at all. I still won’t sign off on it.”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed at her and he took a step forward that drew him dangerously close to her. He seemed to be seething at her response. “I’ll give you another week. Rethink it or you can be replaced.”


(ooc dun dun dunnnn. and ick)

Who: Justin
What: Needing to meet up and talk, debate and a phone call
Where: His apartment
When: Mid-afternoon

The newly turned werewolf paced around the length of his closet size of an apartment, his mind heavy and in a highly confused state. There were so many different things racing around his head. He certainly couldn’t spend the next month’s full moon in Weston’s cell. The vampire so clearly had a low opinion of him (not that Justin could readily blame him). And just the vampire’s icy stare was enough to fill him with self-loathing. Drawing in a deep breath, Justin stopped right in front of his telephone that was mounted on the wall. Next to it on his corkboard were two numbers settled right next to each other. Both were werewolves, and he hadn’t the faintest which one to try.

There was Ana. Confident and self-aware; and, needless to say, she scared the ever-living shit out of him the first time he had met her. She was upfront and completely alright with her wolf-y side, and, at a time when he wasn’t ready to fully acknowledge it, it sent him running. He was probably very rude, come to think of it. The other was Kira. The nice, bubbly girl he had met on the F-train. He liked her; she was one of the few people he had met in New York that he nearly instantly clicked with. But that was why he was hesitating so much. They got along. He didn’t want to see her just as a werewolf as it was what she was, not who she was. It wasn’t fair, and he didn’t want to change the way he looked at her yet. That meant he couldn’t see her until he had this sorted out a bit. He still wasn’t ready for all of this, but… he had to do it. He couldn’t allow himself to slip up again. Even if it was a talk, anything would help.

A sigh escaped his lips as he picked up the phone and began to dial the number off of the business card. Justin bit his lower lip as it began to ring on the other end.

(ooc crapppp.)

Who: Ashleigh
What: Research!
Where: Heading back to her apartment
When: Late afternoon/heading towards sunset.

Life had pretty much gone back to normal. Her every day drudge to work set her burning curiosity on the back burner, and there was not once a mention of vampires or werewolves in the week or so that had passed since that night. But, with every spare moment, Ashleigh couldn’t keep her mind from wandering to that night. Waking up in that bed and Wes telling her about the world that existed right underneath her nose. The things that had gone unnoticed from day to day made her head spin some nights. And she couldn’t help but wonder how many of them were out there? How many people did she run into on a daily basis that were part of this supernatural world that she had been blind to? It wasn’t like she could simply just ask someone, or shout it out on the middle of a busy street, questioning any and all who could hear her.

Aside from her abrupt turn back to normalcy, Ashleigh was taking control of the reigns in her own way. Today was her day off. But it wasn’t going to be the normal, relaxing sort of day where she spent her time lounging around her closet sized apartment, or finished up some left over laundry. No. Today was going to be her day of research. Maybe it was a bit weird, but she wanted to know everything she possibly could about the mysterious vampire. And short of showing up on his doorstep and attacking him with a barrage of questions, Ashleigh had no other way of contacting him (now, that might be a lie. If she could find that business card he had given to her… she was reasonably sure it was somewhere in the confines of her large purse). Regardless, despite the state of her curiosity, she wasn’t just going to show up and demand answers from him—it was a bit rude. Instead, she had her refuge. Her favorite used book shop, and the trusty library. Living in the city she didn’t have the means to simply buy all of her reading materials, let alone buy them new. Used books had a history, and she appreciated that. She wasn’t biased about a slightly cracked spine; they still held the same content after all.

After around four hours spent at the library, two more at the Shop around the Corner, Ashleigh’s arms were laden with books as the sun began to steadily lower itself, signaling to all that evening was fast approaching. It was funny how fast time could fly even though it seemed like no time at all. Let alone, how she had forgotten to stop for lunch in the middle of her educational mission. Hunger gnawed at her stomach as she made her way back to her apartment, an important decision hung on her mind. Chao’s take-out with their deliciously greasy dumplings or Seven Brothers. Conundrum.

(ooc if taggage, can be at her apartment or on the street. If her apartment can be after sun has gone down, depending on if its vamp-centric person and aversion to the sun. wo0t)

Who: Demetrius
Where: 'Arsenic and Lace' club
When: Just after 11
What: people watching mostly.


The movement was fluid, almost as if his fingers didn't rise up slightly to move and propel the gold coin forward; as if it moved on its own accord across his closed hand. He sat as still as a statue, and as quiet as the grave. The night club, full of rich dark reds and blacks, romanticizing the room and disguising it for what it was; a hole in the wall club, peeling walls were covered with rich draping faux silk fabric. The lacquered black bar covered up what was once a home to a nest of rats. He could see through the decor as if all that it had been was still there. The day he found this place he envisioned turning it into a turn of the century themed place, dark and sinful. It had been an abandoned factory, the depression had ravaged it, and it was rumored that its old owner actually killed himself there. It gave it a bit of a haunted feel, and he liked it.

From his corner table tucked away, he could see the majority of the club. Most of the inhabitants were humans even though it was notorious for those of his kind (not to mention others). He let out the barest of sighs as his eyes scanned the crowds once more. There was no one he particularly felt inclined to talk to. It was rare, he loved company. It kept himself out of his head-- a dangerous place to be depending on the time. And normally, if he didn't want to be seen he would just melt into the shadows. He liked watching people. Being part of the scenery. It wasn't at all like his nature, to be so vibrantly and utterly himself.

This didn't happen to him. He didn't dwell over his trysts. Demetrius did not day dream about a certain mortal's touch grazing his skin, the softness of their skin and the taste of their lips. No. Demetrius didn't believe in love like that. Love was moments, stolen but true-- not lifetimes of it. Not marriage. Nothing more than the time that they spent together. But, then why could he not forget those hands deftly exploring his body, or the beautiful expression that captured his features when he came? Demetrius clenched his jaw. He would not allow one night to plague him like this. If he wanted Jude once more, he would make it happen. End of story.

Who: Anahid
What: Working
Where: At the offices of PackMentality
When: Just after sunset

"Messages?"

"A few," the receptionist handed over a thin stack of papers.

"Thank you," Anahid smiled, flipping through the messages as she walked down the hall. Music did not blare in her offices, most of the employees were Weres and couldn't take the pain the noise caused on sensitive ears. Though they were far from being Sony BMG or Arista, they rode the happy little wave of independent music, letting the bands build themselves up by the music alone instead of creating an image that was only for commerical profit.

Anahid sat at her desk, beginning to open a mountain of envelopes that contained demo cd's. She was particular about the bands she signed, not in a snobby kind of way, but she needed to hear the heart of the music. Unlike the big record companies, she listened to every song, every version, every time. If there was no heart, she took a pass, but encouraged them to dig deeper and try again.

"Ana?"

"Yes?"

"That band I told you about," Dave prompted.

"Oh, yes! I need to locate a club for their showcase," she scribbled down a note.

"Thanks," he smiled.

"No problem, you have good taste," she smiled, already turning back to the demos.

Anahid leaned back into her chair, tapping a pen against the armrest. Dave was cute, tall, and her interest stopped there...she just couldn't find anyone she was attracted to. In her father's day he had no problem knowing that her mother was the mate for him, so what made Anahid so impossible to please? Her high standards, knowing there was no room for mistakes in choosing a mate for herself, because it directly affected the fate of the Pack. Her mother had surpassed the odds giving birth to three children, she had very impressive shoes to fill now.

She needed a latte, she decided. The slighest movement caught her attention as she opened one eye towards the office door.

Who: Kira
What: Going home
When: Afternoon
Where: Subway train


I’m sorry but you’re just not what we’re looking for.

Kira wondered how often she would have to hear that very same (and tired) phrase before she’d finally be hired for a role in a musical or play. She had never expected finding a job to be easy but she hadn’t expected it to be this hard either. She was talented, she knew she was talented. But…each refusal came with the underlying message of her being ‘too Japanese’. Oh, they didn’t say it outright but she knew what ‘you’re not what we’re looking for’ meant; she wasn’t stupid. She sighed. Maybe she should cave and hire an agent… The thought made her mentally grimace; she couldn’t afford to pay an agent.

Flashing a smile at the pretty, petite blonde who was next in line, Kira left the theater and stepped out onto the busy afternoon sidewalk of New York City. She paused for a moment, allowing herself a final glance of longing at the theater. A small frown fluttered across her pretty features. “Better luck next time,” she thought to herself. Turning away, Kira stepped into the hurrying throng of people. She moved as anyone accustomed to city-living would; quickly, easily weaving her way through the crowd as she walked. She descended the steps into the subway.

As she waited for the train, Kira tried to find thoughts that would boost her spirits. All great actresses of the stage had met with struggle before finding success, hadn’t they? She knew--knew like she knew the sky was blue and that the stars burned--that she was meant for this life. She smiled a little. It would happen. Someday. She didn’t plan on giving up anytime soon.

The train slid into the station and the doors opened with a soft hiss of air. Trying not to get jostled about too much by the crowd, Kira got onto the train. She carefully sidestepped around an elderly woman with a can only to be bumped into hard by a large, sweaty, and unkempt man. She tumbled back and, cursing in Japanese, landed roughly in someone’s lap.

Who: Jude
What: Drawing and thinking.
Where: Library.
When: A little after 1:30pm.


The picture was grotesque and Jude didn't know why he was drawing it. It was a man. Or, at least, he had used to be a man when he was alive. Now... dead and unaware of it...angry and lost and frightened...he was something else entirely. The human soul laid bare, maybe. Or the otherworld peeking through into this one. Neither human nor supernatural, both and neither at the same time. A ghost. His neck had been broken so badly that the flesh there was twisted and his head hung limp and upside-down against his chest. Eyes, tortured and pleading, gazed out from his overturned face.

It was an image Jude had been unable to rid himself ever since he saw it a few days ago. It lingered, a nightmare come to life. He even remembered how the ghost's skull had bounced lightly against his chest in time with his steps. The memory made the bruises the fury-filled ghost had left ache. Absently, he put a hand over one of the angry marks that marred the pale skin of his arm.

A half-troubled, half-angry frown turned down Jude's lips. Was this how he spent his first day off since he had started his new job? Fretting? Dwelling on past hauntings? He had refused to spend it alone, holed up in the tiny little motel room he currently called home and instead he came to the library and worried? No. Not today.

Jude resolutely flipped his sketchbook to the next blank page and, closing his eyes, let out a slow breath as if centering himself. Two more breaths later a calm settled over him. A small smile graced his features and his eyes opened. He placed the pencil against the page and started to draw, letting his hand go where it willed.

A few hours passed with Jude absently sketching before, picture finished, he pulled himself out of the pleasant haze and back into reality. Green eyes studied the drawing. A man again. This one, handsome and sharply featured, stood leaning against a brick wall. Hands in his pockets, head tilted back and resting against the stone so his eyes gaze skyward. The image was sad and beautiful, filled with sorrow and longing. Demetrius.

Jude's slender fingers ghosted over the picture as a blush rose to his cheeks. He bit down on his bottom lip, gaze lingering upon the artwork as if unable to look away. He had only meant Demetrius once--a brief, chance encounter--and...God, what was he thinking? Nothing would ever come of it. He slipped a sheet of tracing paper between the pages to protect the drawing and then slammed the sketchbook close.

Despite how old he looked he was thirty-two and Demetrius was only what? Eighteen? ...Yet he acted older beyond his years... Nevermind that. Even if the age difference didn't matter Demetrius would want nothing to do with him. He was a fool for wanting it, for even dreaming about it. Fingers curled around the edge of the notebook, aching for another peek. Another touch.

"Fuck," he said quietly, barely a whisper.

It was getting late in the afternoon and Jude had already spent the better part of his day sequestered in the library so, pushing his thoughts away, Jude got to his feet and started to leave.

Who: Naiya
What: Taking a few days off (under protest!)
Where: The streets of New York
When: Midday

Naiya began her staycation a few days after her long lunch with Isabelle. Though she didn't want to, she knew that it was what she needed. So with her office locked up, she went home...and furiously began to clean her apartment. Not that it was dirty, she just hadn't had the time to do more than the bare basics to keep it neat.

When she woke up refreshed the next morning, sunlight warming her bedroom, she started, afraid she had accidently slept through her alarm. As her big toe just barely brushed the floor, she drew it back. This was a day off, no work. Though her ritual-memorized body tried to urge her to begin her day, it was already SO late, she crawled back under the covers, and opened a long-forgotten book on her nightstand.

Three hours and hundreds of pages later, she got up, turned on the coffee maker and stepped into a hot shower. She had time to just stand under the water, and not fall asleep. What a novel idea! Her hair was properly conditioned, she didn't forget to shave or use face wash. She pattered around her apartment in her towel with her coffee mug in hand. Running a comb through her hair, and giving it a good towel-dry, she applied a bit of lip gloss to her lips. She chose to wear a pair of old faded jeans she refused to wear to work, because there was a good chance she'd get blood or something else on them. With her favorite black sneakers and white sweater, she wound a long scarf around her neck, grabbed her bag, and headed outside.

She didn't have many errands to run, all of her bills were paid, and she wanted to save shopping for food until last. So, she went window shopping, buying herself a large herbal tea from a nearby coffee shop.

'This is a good day,' she thought with a smile.