Not Honest: An Original RPG

italiano_angel @ 10:31 pm: Who: Alex and Open
Where: Bexley
When: Friday Night

Vampire hunters amused Alex in all the wrong ways. The boy that Percy had brought home was still sleeping on the couch, which was amazing in general, but Alex was particularly impressed with the guts Brody had in staying with two vampires. Not that Percy was really there that much. He lingered close to Dawn, but usually behind closed doors, and in his own world.

But Alex spent his time investigating Brody, because he had the time...and he could.

Except tonight the vampire had decided to explore, to see if he could find these so called 'Bexley Hunters' that he'd over heard a pair of demons discussing at the Black Drum. If nothing else, Alex was aware that the hunters could certainly provide him with the needed entertainment to make his days somehow less boring. Much less boring.

"How much is that doggy in the widow," he sang to himself as he walked along the empty road, looking about. "The one with the waggily tail, how much is that doggy in the window...." He never could remember anything beyond that. It was a stupid song, but then again a group of hunters claiming to be a fictional movie character that killed vampires with ridiculous flair was equally lacking in intelligence. "Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone, oh where, oh where can he be...."

Tags: alassandro deluca, jean-julian alexandre marais, open

lastgirlonearth @ 08:47 pm: Who: Felicity, open
Where: Scrawls
When: Friday, early afternoon.


"Are you aware of the evil that lurks in our city, hiding behind the guise of humanity?"

"Am I... what?" Felicity looked up and blinked at the guy at the counter, waiting to place his order. She was so startled, she almost burned herself with hot water, glaring at him as she messed up the drink she was currently working on. "What is that, some neo-goth version of asking if I've accepted Christ as my personal savior?"

"Have you?" The guy looked at her rather ernestly, and she just lifted a brow as she looked at him. He was a prep, but other than that he was kind of cute... before he opened his mouth, it seemed. She'd peg him at about 21, 22... and not the crazy sort. Just proved it took all kinds. She lifted her finger to hussh any further questions for now, and finished the drink she was making, handing it over to the waiting customer before turning back to crazy!guy.

"I don't generally consider that a worthy topic of discussion... What can I get you?"

"you don't believe. I could show you things. Secrets best left kept... horrors that should never be seen by the innocent. What would you say if presented with proof that the stuff of stories is real? Demons, Vampires..."

"Well, I'd probably ask a demon what he wanted to order... and I'd apologize to a vampire for not serving his drink of choice. So... what is your drink of choice?"

"Ahh... mocking what we do not know."

"Seriously? I'm a barrista. I serve coffee. I serve coffee when people order it. What do you want?"

"What would you say if I told you I wanted to save you?"

"... Seriously."

Tags: felicity o'hanlon, jean-julian alexandre marais, open

je_marais @ 10:13 pm: Who: Julian Marais, Arsène Paquet
Where: the riverfront
When: Monday, just before midnight

Julian limps away from the park, moving quickly lest the dark one change his mind and come after him again. His back is raw and bleeding from the rough bark of the tree he was flung against, and there's a lump on the back of his head. He touches his fingers to it, making a soft mew of pain. He shouldn't have challenged the older one, he knows that, but he's still taken aback by the ferocity of the other vampire's reaction. He didn't have to hurt me, Julian thinks, sulking a little. I only wanted to...

To what?

He frowns as he passes through a thicket of trees, leaves crunching under his boots. What did he want? To talk, he supposes, to pass the time with one of his own kind. Perhaps even to hunt together. He feels stupid now, like a silly boy hanging about the schoolyard hoping to make friends. He scowls as he ducks under a low-hanging branch, emerging on the other side of the woods. He's tired of being lonely. Loneliness means weakness. He must learn to be strong like Leo.

He clears the top of a hill. The river lies below, black and shimmering in the moonlight. His heart immediately aches for his Sire. The riverfront was always their hunting ground, ever since that first night. Tears sting his eyes and he chides himself for thinking he could ever be like him. Leo can be alone, needs to be alone, but Julian...Julian will forever need him, yearn for him, wait to be with him. He sighs a little, making his way to the water's edge. He stands there, staring out at the water, feeling very alone indeed.

Tags: Arsène Paquet, jean-julian alexandre marais

thispicture @ 12:18 am: steppin' out of ketosis
Who: Brody, open
Where: A general store
When: Monday evening

He should have left.

Of course his life was defined by a series of should-haves and should-have-nots; of course, every decision he'd ever made had been the wrong one. He was still alive, though, so there was that, against all odds--because he'd been half-convinced that after he fell asleep on the man, Percy's, couch, he wasn't going to wake up, and his body would wash up two weeks later and he'd be chilling up there in Heaven or whatever, like, "Dang y'all!" to all the angels. But he did. Wake up, that is. He did that. And he waited.

Nothing happened.

Well, things happened, but none of them involved getting his throat cut and bleeding out in the bathtub like he was half-expecting. No, he woke up, nothing untoward happened, he retained all of his brain function. It was almost like they didn't know what to do with him and he was kind of confused. Why did he stay?

Oh right. Nothing better to do.

He was getting a little better at navigating both English streets, and English money. (What the hell was a pound, and how much was it worth in real money?) He meant to come down to the corner store here to get something to eat, since he hadn't really eaten much of anything since Daniel died--surprisingly, watching five people get slaughtered in front of you was a great way to lose your appetite--so it was probably a good idea to feed himself before he... you know, died.

Of course he got distracted in its paltry make up aisle, missing all the make up he'd left behind in a suitcase in a hotel whose name he didn't know on a street he couldn't remember. Lip gloss, advertised to young girls, was what distracted him, and he picked one off the shelf, staring at it. Cookie Dough? Really? Flavoured?! Good Lord. This was a whole world of lip-covering snack possibilities he'd never considered. What next, edible mascara?

Tags: duke-jeremy "brody" mcadams, jean-julian alexandre marais, open