| Mother Night |
[13 Apr 2009|05:20pm] |
With the strength of a Slayer gone, Rhiannon could still pick a lock. It was hardware store cheap, without a combination dial, just a keyhole she patiently manipulated with a steak knife. Once it popped loose, she unhooked it from the roof latch, pushed the square door open like the cover of a book, and climbed the skinny ladder. The flat roof smelled of recent tarring. The building was only three stories tall, but the breeze whipped across it, fresh and cold from Lake Michigan. She sat up there for a while, escaping the stillness of her bedroom and the sound of Connor tossing and turning on the couch. She brought cigarettes, a remnant bottle of whiskey from the party, the neck of which stuck to her fingers, and Joseph's rosary. Basically, anything she thought might help. Nothing did, though it was noteworthy how much easier alcohol spun her head.
Hours ago, in the shower, the shock faded away, leaving Rhiannon in a panic. She felt like an uprooted tree with exposed roots and nothing to brace it up when the wind inevitably came. The old, pale scars persisted on her stomach and neck, a small relief. At least her life story wasn't as invisible as she felt.
A low wall ran the perimeter of the roof. She sat before it, cross-legged, and folded her arms on top. Then she put her forehead down and coached herself to breathe, because she had to. Too many years of experience had accumulated for Rhiannon to let herself self-destruct, no matter how tempting. It would eliminate everything gained. And what would it look like? That thought spun in her brain until it carved a permanent notch. What would it look like if a leader was nothing but smoke and mirrors? If being Chosen only gave a hard veneer to a weak core? Rhiannon squeezed her hands into fists, then loosened them. She wanted a walk, but it wasn't safe. It was four in the morning.
"There's an appetite for you..."
( A Question of Appetite )
( The Right to Evolve )
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| Police find dead body |
[13 Apr 2009|08:56pm] |
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mood |
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 awake |
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By Michelle Daniels | Michelle.Daniels@suntimes.com
Earlier this morning the Chicago police department confirmed the dead body found in a well known venue for unusual clientele was that of 45-year old George Robinson, a local businessman and a well loved husband and father of 3.
Rumour has it he was meeting somebody later that evening to discuss problems within a neighbourhood, problems that our sources tell us were brought about by the woman's past.
Bianca Robinson, George's wife of a full 25 years, told the police that she knew he'd been saying things around the neighbourhood that weren't all that popular with the woman in question.
( More To It )
[Written by Mands]
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| Getting Better Acquainted |
[13 Apr 2009|09:52pm] |
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mood |
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 contemplative |
] |
Given recent events -- mainly her fight with that Slayer a month ago and the entire fiasco surrounding Faith Lehane being in prison -- Thea found herself curious as to just what it was Slayers were and did. She knew some of the basics ... superpowers, fast healing, an innate hatred of all things demonic and undead ... but despite everything Grace told her, Thea wanted a Slayer's perspective.
How did the demon fighters operate? What made some Girl Scout goody-goodies, while others operated strip clubs and went to jail for murder?
Inquiring minds wanted to know; Thea thought she probably should've asked Rose during their last sit-down, but the subject never came up. Thea could think of only one Slayer she could turn to for answers who wouldn't automatically turn her into a pile of dust; sure, Faith Lehane had been imprisoned for murder, but Thea remembered how righteous she seemed to be in their lone encounter. A Slayer put away for murder and palling around with a neutered vampire like Avery ... the vampiress figured whatever oversaw Slayers wouldn't be too happy with her.
Remembering her first encounter with Bethany, Thea decided she was probably her best bet. Wearing an inconspicuous gray hoodie and a relatively new pair of jeans she's swiped from a JC Penney after-hours, the vampiress walked into Devil's Own, giving the bouncer at the door a wink and a smile on her way by. Wandering through the patrons and smirking at the dance moves on-stage, Thea sauntered to the bar, ordering a Bloody Mary, extra blood.
( Got A Date? )
( Bit Pervy )
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