| Explanation |
[29 May 2009|09:58am] |
Clemence was uncertain about dropping by Connor's apartment without an express invitation. What if she caught him at a bad time? But since she was currently without her cell phone, there wasn't much to be done for it. It was only through calling her voice mail with a public pay phone that she heard his concerned message...from quite a few weeks ago. After running out of change, she decided to hop on the bus from Columbia and reassure him in person, and hope he wasn't annoyed with her. She walked the few blocks from the Milwaukee bus stop in Logan Square, consulting the piece of paper where she had scribbled his address. It was almost dusk, and the weather was fair and warm. There were skateboarders congregating around the large statue that was the apex of a complicated six-way intersection.
The blonde turned down a residential street and found her way to Connor's apartment. Ringing the bell, she swiped one sneaker over the faded welcome mat and waited.
"One second!"
The voice was muffled, and Connor finished rubbing the towel over his still-damp hair before draping the terrycloth over his shoulders. He'd felt sweaty and gross after coming back from the walk with Rhiannon, so once the Slayer left he threw himself into a shower to get cleaned up. Bare feet slapped against the hardwood floor as he dug a clean shirt out of his dresser and put it on, the cuffs of his jeans scuffing on the boards as he stepped around Ivan on his way to the door.
( A Night In )
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| Phone Call |
[29 May 2009|01:44pm] |
At the breakfast bar Kathleen glanced at the court papers once again before picking up the phone to make a call. St. Joseph Hospital and U. S. Army had their own lawyers on the case to defend against this unusual lawsuit. The lawsuit had some merit, a vampire bite resulted of mythical-origins, and the hospital did not have a mythical expert on staff and failed to seek a consult from one.
She heard the phone ring on the other side.
( Voice Message for Special Agent Jill Andersen )
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| A Night at the Fundraiser |
[29 May 2009|04:29pm] |
Another night, another fundraiser.
The event was being held in the reception area of the Sofitel, one of Chicago's self-billed luxury hotels, and Rebecca was presiding over things with all the efficiency of a conquering general. A string quartet had been secured for the evening, and strains of soft music could be heard over the muted conversations of the guests as she watched the buffet table with a critical eye. She'd made one brief canvass of the room, intended to make another after a larger portion of the food was gone. Full stomach made for more generous donations, she had discovered.
The Englishwoman sipped at a glass of water as she passed a small clutch of women in evening wear. She was back in her element, more or less, hadn't even needed the gauzy wall of Valium between herself and the throng of people around her tonight. She felt, if not content, at least capable. It was a step in the right direction.
William straightened his jacket and looked around the room. He had never liked these big social gatherings, even before he had spent years away from England's high society. He had to go with his parents when he was younger to all sorts of embassy balls and military galas, but since his father's passing, he had done his best to avoid them. However, since he had recently taken up a certain amount of philanthropy, when his lawyer had given him the invitation that the law firm had received, saying Will might want to go and donate, and since he owed his layer for flying all the way from London to Chicago, he felt like he had to.
( Small Talk and Lies, Both Big and Small )
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| Reality Check |
[29 May 2009|05:09pm] |
Kris,
I know you have a hard time talking about how you feel. I know you also have a hard time listening to a bunch of mush or inspirational bullshit. I'm going to respond on paper, too. That way, when you get to parts that make you sick, you can put it down. :) It works out for me, too. I don't have to worry about getting bitch-slapped for being corny.
I'm going to do this line by line from your letter.
( It's Not Rationalization, It's Reason )
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| The Inquisition Begins: FUGITIVE Thread |
[29 May 2009|07:52pm] |
"I'm assuming the skeletal remains serve a purpose other than just decoration...?"
"Manipulating dimensions is a thing of great complexity. We have yet to recover an intact example of the Inquisition's own, far more refined devices. Without a full understanding of the power source, relying on orgone energy seemed the most likely alternative candidate: Our vampire friends have a greater comprehension for the essence of life than perhaps even they realise. It might not be perfect, but seems perfectly viable."
Orgone energy... Wilhelm Reich's proposal had caused a firestorm of technological breakthroughs back in the 1930s -- the latest in a long line of many -- and the majority of the most sensational coming from discoveries made to eradicate supernatural threats. Ironic, in a way, that the same underlying principles should now be put to such a ghastly visual effect. Still, it was not for the sake of horror, but liberation. Fresh corpses, whether butchered or not, retained a certain energy of life. Perhaps the ancients were onto more than they realised, by piling up the heads of their enemies onto totems and thrones?
"Just a prototype, of course," continued the disheveled scientist, "but there is every reason to believe it could replicate-"
( Under Siege )
[Fugitive Thread:
Open to AU Versions of Jeb (sorcerer), Francess (out-of-body traveler), Faith (vamp), Jenny (telepath), Avery (vamp), Clemence (empath), Leah (half-succubus), Sonya (demon hybrid), Alec (healer), Kris (human sympathizer), Cassandra (witch), Ruben (vamp)]
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| The Inquisition Plot: INQUISITOR Thread |
[29 May 2009|08:02pm] |
"I'm getting movement... Looks like a real Frankenstein's labyrinth, down there. Maybe our informant was as truthful as we hoped."
"Purging has a... Guilting effect on one's soul," came the radioed reply. "It wouldn't surprise me."
The original figure kept a steady watch on the proceedings. Technology had come a long way since the Inquisition's first forays into supernatural discovery and combat. A headset-like contraption was used to view through optics, internally translating the images into a hybrid cross between X-ray vision and thermal imaging. It allowed the user a complete overview of not only what was going on inside the structure, but an instant appraisal of creatures generating far less body heat than their human guise might lead one to believe.
Heretics... If ever there was visual proof of their infecting communities, this would be it. If any were purely human, then they were no less in need of cleansing of their sins. Fifth columnists were a dangerous breed. The entire Empire could collapse, if they were not dealt with.
( Follow Them! )
[Inquisitor Thread: Open to Hayden, Kathleen, Connor, Rhiannon, Victoria, Bethany, Logan, Cian, Tseng, Toby, Warner, Pat (all human)]
(Submitted by E)
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| On the Seventh Day, the Lord Rested (AU) |
[29 May 2009|10:42pm] |
(This event took place in the AU World and before the current events)
Outside the large doors of the Great Cathedral of Chicago parishioners walked out after the Sunday Mass. Most were greeted by the clergy as they left. Those of the higher classes had the privilege to speak with the Archbishop of Chicago, the Church of England. One of those so blessed with the opportunity were the Inquisitors. "Your Excellency, I was inspired by your sermon. It was lovely," complimented Kathleen as her white-laced gloved hand held the Archbishop's hand. "Truly inspired."
"Thank you, Mrs. Guevera," said the Archbishop, who then let go of her hand. As a loyal wife, she placed her arm around her husband's, and glanced at him affectionately before smiling back at the Archbishop.
"Indeed," Logan agreed with a smile to his wife, shaking the Archbishop's hand. "Your words will be a great source of strength for our men as we head into battle. The Lord's will shall carry the day for us."
Logan Guevera had served with the Inquisition for the past year and a half, after serving the Church of England in several capacities over the past decade. His father Trevor had instilled in Logan a great love and respect for God, one that Logan was eager to lean on when the Inquisition asked him to lend his sword to eradicating the supernatural menace. Though he nearly passed out from fear with the first vampire he slayed, but as the months passed, Logan's ability grew matched only by his resolve.
( Blessed are the Peacemakers )
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| To The Last Man |
[29 May 2009|10:59pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 working |
] |
When Alec had agreed to come back and settle his beef with that asshole he had no idea what he was getting into. The race itself was insane and it had no rhyme or any reason, every rider was out for themselves, the more confident ones muscling others not so confident off the track.
He'd already watched two guys go down and not get back up and he was trying very hard not to think about it, simply accelerating before braking to handle a sharp turn. The back of the bike swung out and the bike's weight balanced on the front wheel, precariously and dangerously, but Alec shifted his weight and manipulated both gears and brakes to allow the bike to hit tarmac again.
He breathed out and pressed down again, letting the bike handle the road ahead with as much speed as he could pull from its tank, determined not to let the guys behind him overtake and try to muscle him out. Alec's hands tightened around handlebars and pressed down, shifting through the lull that accompanied the next corner, drawing his weight up a few moments later.
( One More Lap )
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thoughtful