Low Tide

"Is everything on this island tropical themed?"

From his post at the door, Darian thought it a fair question. He had steered clear of tiki huts, floating bars, dueling pianos, and the cloying strains of Jimmy Buffett tunes, which left him with little in the way of choice. This bar was less thematic than most, but even it boasted a palm tree made of a neon tubing and a specialty drink served in a coconut. He took off a lightweight coat and hung it from a hook near his chair... A hook which, on closer inspection, was shaped like a pelican beak.

So that issue was settled, at least. He was in hell.

Upon sitting down, he straightened his tie and looked around. Roxanne, the client he chased to the island, was more adept at staying off his radar than Darian could've imagined. She was not a guest in any hotel. He concluded that she'd settled herself in for a long-term stay, perhaps taken up a job and an apartment share (it was either that or admit the worse alternative-- that she'd already left the island, leaving him picking sand out of his teeth, without a clue as to her next destination).

( Awakening )

Silence.

If Rhiannon opens the windows, she'll hear a breeze in the palms, the tinkle of a neighbor's windchimes, a bottle clanking in a streetside garbage can. But that's it. No sirens, no arguments, no car horns, no mess. Even the waves are quiet in Key West.

Lately, sleep is tricky. Two nights in a row, Rhiannon crawled out of bed at 4am and crashed on the couch with the television playing background noise. I just need the ugly noise of the world, she thought.

It always used to drown out the noise in her head. Peace via whirlwind of chaos.

( If Mirrors Could Talk )

[NPC 'Rhiannon' was written by Paul.]

( Salt )

To say that, when he’d turned up at her doorstep (again), Ben was freaked out was an understatement. Simon had taken one look at him and after his cursory ”I don’t like the fact that he’s here again, jenny, he’s bad news” promptly pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a glass and pushed both towards the shaken thirty three year old.

He’d taken another look at Jenny before he’d excused himself and left the siblings to it.

( Black holes and revelations )

Joseph was pretty sure he’d seen everything there was to see in this world, but he hadn’t been ready for two blondes walking down the street chained - literally chained - together.

People and their kinks, some were apparently more brave than others when it came to sharing those sorts of things with the world.

Not that there was anything wrong with a little… Joseph caught that train of thought and chuckled softly around the filter end of a cigarette that had long lost its warmth.

He’d effectively wiped out half of his competition with his little adventure with matches and gasoline, meaning there wasn’t so much friction and tension on the streets of Key West. It also meant that people had started seeking him out, looking to make deals and get on his good side.

( Long Night )

The first time Dana Harper saw Dion Hatch, love of her young life, he was unloading groceries onto the conveyor belt in her check-out line. She was overwhelmed by his long eyelashes and round biceps. As she ran packages of sandwich meats and breakfast bars across the scanner, she smiled at him and told him they were her favorite kind, too. When that failed to net his attention, she commented on his personal check. How they had the same initials, wasn't that funny? He didn't think so. He wasn't rude, just dismissive. Busy. He didn't really notice her.

She memorized his address and made up excuses to drive her old Volkswagen down his street. Later, when she grew bold, she rode her bike past Dion's house. Once, he saw her. He was out watering his lawn. Dana waved. He nodded and went back to his business.

Another time, she parked a block away from his house, then followed him to a bar. She sat on a stool across the room, but eventually made her way to Dion's table, introducing herself as 'Dana, from Johnson's Grocery'. He recognized her, she could tell, but he pretended not to. He was making her work for it.

After two more planned encounters, Dion finally told her to knock it if, he wasn't interested. The words felt like acid thrown in her face. As she walked away, humiliated, Dana knew he would be interested, if he just had time to get to know her...

( The Spell )

The door hung at an odd angle, the lock broken - again - but this time it was nothing to do with Kris or Simon. There were a few drops of blood on the floor and Jenny’s internal alarm went off.

She had a horrible feeling that she knew exactly whose blood that was on the floor.

“Ben?”

There was a faint groan from the bedroom. Her bedroom. God, he had better not be bleeding on her sheets.

( The unwelcome, but not unexpected, visitor )

Some days Kris really hated her job, mostly because it meant on the rare occasions she got any time off inevitably she’d run into somebody she knew from the station that would harangue her in whatever line or store until she knew everything there was to know about all the going ons, including the would be escapee who had yet to turn up again.

The less said on that particular matter the better.

Thankfully she was able to escape or she would have to fake an emergency phone call before she gave herself away because she knew she would, she wasn’t good at hiding guilt. It had been a right pain in the rear when she was younger, meaning she got away with next to nothing.

Kris snuck a cigarette whilst her older brother wasn’t looking, given that he was back in the states for a while and he had an issue with her smoking even though he’d smoked when he was younger. Apparently going into the marines meant you needed to live a clean life, free of vices and other such things.

( Sneaking Cigarettes )

Rationally Kris knew that getting drunk or as close to drunk as she could first thing in the morning was a really bad idea, but she was kind of feeling another bad idea, especially as last night had been completely unreal and she still wasn’t sure what to make of it.

She’d even called in sick - the first time in God only knew how many years. Kris didn’t think she could face Leon or the people at the station, not after what she’d done last night. All in the name of good - she knew that - didn’t make it any easier to live with.

Whistler’s card was sat on the counter beside the bottle that was rapidly dwindling with every gulp she took from it, Kris hadn’t even bothered with a glass.

Simon had noticed and hadn’t even tried to say anything as Kris had her ‘say anything and I’ll kill you with my bare hands’ look on and he knew better than to try anything right now.

He did knock on Jenny’s bedroom door, figuring he should at the very least give her a heads up before she awoke to find the foul beast in the kitchen.

( Monster In The Kitchen )

( Hearing Voices )

( Voicemail Left For Whistler )

OOC: NPC!Simon was played by Mands.

Christmas Day, 2009

Christmas had always been Izzy's favorite of the Christian holidays. While she'd never been all that religious growing up, her mother had tried to make Christmas a special time for her daughter. They'd always had a tiny tree and decorations, and on Christmas Day her mother had cooked up a traditional dinner, one of the few times a year she actually had the time to spend on elaborate meals or cooking in general. Presents had been mostly practical items: clothes, school books and the like, but usually there were one or two small frivolities to open and enjoy.

That was in her old life though. In her stepfather's household the tree was an enormous thing nearly brushing the ceiling, and the witch thought the decorations alone had to cost a small fortune. Stockings for all family members hung from the mantle of the fireplace, and a cackling fire provided both heat and a cheery glow to the room.

If only the atmosphere was as cheery as the appearance suggested.
( Can't choose family )

[Note: The Characters of Geoff, Frances, and Bobby were written by Stargazer]

“Don’t lecture me on what I can and can’t do,” Agent Julie Kottler snapped at one of the other agents in the room with her. “If you’ve got a problem with it, then wait outside.”

There was a huff of breath and the two agents in the room left the red-head to it. She raked her fingers through her hair, putting her badge down on the vanity by the bathroom door.

The hotel room was simple, that was enough to make the FBI agent suspicious. Joseph Tropiano’s presence in Key West had more than ruffled a few feathers and she was trying to find something that would implicate him in the dirty dealings that had been going on in her home. There hadn’t been this much unrest since she had graduated the academy and even then, only in New York where the gang violence was always up due to the severe unrest that happened there; power always shifting and changing.

The wardrobe had been left open, the meticulously hung clothes in order and tidy, not a piece of fabric out of place. Julie blew out a breath and continued her search of Joseph’s room. It was public property, she had permission from the Hotel manager to search whatever she needed to and she was breaking no laws. Her companions were just put out by her need to catch this guy.

( Too Clean )

( Pull Yourself Together )

OOC: NPC Agent Julie Kottler was played by Willow

Izzy wasn't sure which emotion toward her brother was stronger at the moment: anger or disappointment. She hadn't been able to believe her ears when he'd used his one phone call, drug possession of all things! It brought all the old demons of her childhood back that she'd thought safely left behind in this dimension.

So here she was, in the station, waiting for them to bring him out after she posted his bail. Posting Bail! Two words she'd never thought she'd put together with her brother in this dimension, but yet here she was sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair in the front of the building.
( Sibling rivalry )

[Note: The NPC Bobby Shaw was written by Stargazer.]

After six months in the Burlesque theatre troupe, Heather had barely made a dent in her debts.

Nobody dropped out of veterinary school after three years -- it was insane. At $20,000 a year, who could afford to pay back the loans without a white coat? She slogged through her classes and clinical rotations, but that fucked-up feeling like the walls were closing in didn't go away. Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad. It isn't for me. Well, she'd made her bed, they told her. Now she had to lie in it.

That bed was a cot in the converted den of a Key West cottage. Her costumes hung from pegs on the walls, bright splotches of pink and turquoise against the wood paneling. Close up, they weren't sexy. You could see the spots where sequins popped off and had to be re-stitched. Her feet kept blisters from the acrylic platforms she wore on stage.

( The Blue Convertible )

The apartment was clean, dinner was cooked and eaten, and the dishes had been washed and put in the drying rack. The sun had been down for a couple of hours by now, and a floorlamp illuminated a spot around the slightly worn armchair near the center of the room. The last cup of coffee from the pot cooled on the table next to the chair. A strangely domestic scene, all things considered.

Mallory lived by herself in the apartment on Greene Street, and the landlord told her that she was one of her best tenants. She kept the place clean, she paid the rent on time, and she even recycled, dropping her plastic bottles and cans into the collection kiosk in the parking lot. With the exception of the clothes-chucking incident, there had been no problems.

The redhead had relented and gathered up Dominic's stuff, then bagged it in one big garbage bag for if he showed up to get his things. Without washing them. Let him deal with the sand in his jeans. She was not his maid or his mother. In his sleep, Tuffy the bulldog chuffed, his short back legs kicking as if he chased rabbits in his dreams. Mallory flipped the page of the newspaper she was reading, moved on to the classifieds. Sometimes, she really relished a quiet evening at home.

( Man-Child )

NPC Dominic was written by Jessica

Four a.m. in Key West. Barflies tipped off their stools. Vacationers trudged back to their hotel rooms to sleep off a tequila haze. The buzzing of streetlamps was audible, now that the island music had drifted away. Time for a dreamless sleep.

Rhiannon's shoes scuffed along the pavement. Closing time was a good time to patrol, just in case a vamp got the bright idea to munch on a bleary-eyed tourist. The paper landed on her doorstep every morning. Mysterious deaths increasing. Strange neck injuries. Yeah. Right. It was Searchlight all over again. The difference was, Key West had an inexhaustible supply of necks.

She read the storefronts. 24 kt. gold! Tanzanite! Diamonds! Kites for toys and sport! Key lime pie! A beer bottle rolled in the gutter next to Captain Tony's Saloon. Duval Street was a weird part of town, she thought. The brightly painted shops looked like Candyland and smelled like a mixture of suntan lotion, beer, and seafood. Behind the famous street, a narrow alley was strewn with garbage. Palm trees, not tall buildings, blocked out the light. Roosters and rats scuttled in the garbage looking for scraps. A homeless man barged into her shoulder and kept going, mumbling under his breath. Because he didn't ask her for change, Rhiannon knew something had scared him. She stood at the mouth of the alley for a moment, letting her eyes adjust. A breeze blew a strand of hair into her eyes.

( The Alley )

In the weeks Kris had been working this one area of Key West she couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times her and Leon had been called out to this one location with the same code every single night: 10-15.

It was always the same, the guy had gone home drunk and slapped his girl around some until she’d cried bloody murder and the neighbour had made the call. Nothing changed, it didn’t matter how many times Kris and Leon hauled the guy’s ass to jail, he just went right back and did the exact same thing over and over again.

Why the woman never left his ass was beyond Kris and she really didn’t feel like getting into it at the time she found herself turning up at the war torn apartment.

“Not this again,” Leon grumbled under his breath, shifting from behind the wheel, easing his weight onto the dimly lit pavement.

( Something's Different )

Izzy finished scrubbing the paint away from her face, then returned to her bedroom from the bath to look over her handiwork with a satisfied air.

The overdose of pink had finally been too much for her, and the witch had spent the past day transforming her room into something more adult with a few coats of white paint. Whatever she had been before the re-alignment, now she was something very different and having a bedroom that looked like something out of a Disney princess movie was more than she'd been able to stand for long. White walls were a good first step.
( Stranger at the door? )

[Note: The NPC Bobby Shaw was written by Stargazer]

Cowardly was the last thing that Boden could be called, but since his arrival in this new world and this new body he had been displaying all the traits of the behaviour, including avoiding his apartment and anything associated with this Boden’s life.

He had after many hours of wandering decided to bite the bullet and brave it, rummaging out the keys and finding his way back there with little problem, easily navigating the strange streets with an ease that could only come from having lived there a very long time.

Inhaling and exhaling was the only way in which Boden could insert the key into the lock and turn it, hearing it click with an ominous ease. It was now or never, go in or turn back, Boden decided on the former rather than the latter.

The door was opened for an all of sixty seconds before Boden finally took a step over threshold, fully immersing himself in this other man’s life; a life that assaulted him in personal decoration, photographs and a flashing answering machine.

( Lucky Girlfriend )

[NPC Charlie was written by Willow]

Thanksgiving Day, 2009

Izzy smoothed the fabric of her dress and ignored the butterflies in her stomach as she came down the stairs to the main floor of her parents' home. 'Isabelle' had known these people all her life, and everything had gone swimmingly when they picked her up at the airport. There was no reason to think that her family would think there was anything too different about their daughter, so why did she feel like everything was too good to be true?
( Home for the Holiday )

[Note: The NPCs Geoff and Frances Nealson were written by Stargazer.]

Wynne Barber sat at a round table shaded by a brightly-colored umbrella, sunglasses on and a drink by his side. He was thumbing through his cell phone, his free hand massaging his temple. His stepfather had taken him out to a new club opening the night before; Roger Barber was friends with the proprietors. Things like being underage didn't matter when one had a VIP pass, but that novelty had long worn off. It was still a drag to be out with your old man. Even worse to watch him ogle women the same age as his stepson.

The anti-glare screen did little against the noonday sun, and he set the handset on a table with a sigh. The ice in his drink had melted, but he sipped it anyway. Strictly San Pellegrino; he had been lucky to avoid a full-blown hangover, and Wynne wasn't about to push that luck.

The waitress from the restaurant brought out his meal, and he managed a wan smile. Picking up his fork, he speared a piece of salmon and brought it to his mouth. The day was looking sunny with a chance of dull.

Finding someone was easy, even when you weren't in the same state, as long as you had something that belonged to them. The watch had been the closest thing Peter could find once he found the apartment empty, and once he got to his pre-booked hotel room the spell was easy to perform. Locator spells were the easiest, practically child's play.

( How Not to Play Nicely )



[NPC Peter written by Stargazer]