oceancove

Who: William Harwood & Ilsa
What: Ilsa makes good on her promise to show William around the Cove.
Where: Beginning at Sugared, and then going from there.
When: Evening.
Rating: TBD

He lamented slightly at having to wait until darkness to meet with Ilsa, as he was fairly certain that the Cove was likely a lovely sight in the hours just before twilight. William wasn’t a sentimentalist by any means, and had long ago stopped giving a damn about things that mortals viewed as awe inspiring – such as sunsets and sunrises – but something about the seaside community made an odd sort of longing to see such things crop up (as they tended to do every couple hundred years). However, he chalked it up of growing slightly bored of his lodgings and office space, the desire to actually see what the Cove had to offer in the way of any form of excitement causing him to feel restless.

Since their meeting at the ballet some weeks previous, Ilsa had offered to show William about town, as he hadn’t really been anywhere aside from where he lived and operated, the coffee shop along the way, and the theatre. Any inclination he had to do any “sight-seeing” was often squashed by not wanting to appear as a tourist to those around him. He loathed the idea of feeling out of his element, and while as a whole the Cove did not present those feelings, he certainly wasn’t as comfortable as he was in London. And considering that for the foreseeable future that this was to be his home, he figured that perhaps he may as well get to know it a bit better.

Ilsa had suggested that William meet her after one of her shifts at Sugared, and William had agreed. He hadn't set foot in the confectionery shop since arriving, but had heard many good things about their cupcakes, often prepared by the alpha of the lycans, Amelia. He had no aversion to lycans, or even sweets necessarily, but embracing either wasn't exactly the highest on his list of priorities. As he stepped inside the shop, the bright colours and the scent of things freshly baked filled his nostrils. Save for himself, the bakery was void of customers. William glanced at his watch to make sure that he wasn't terribly early or late before forgoing all the baked goods and sweets around him and approaching the counter.

Who: Lyneth Walker, William Harwood
What: Somewhat of an awkward reunion in between chatarungas...
Where: Goddess Moon Yoga, Lyneth's studio, evening
Rating: PG
Status: In-Progress

"Breathe equally into the front and back body."

Pushing through the palms of her hands into the floor in adho mukha svanasana, Lyneth could hear the breath echo off the walls of the tiny studio, normally equipped to only receive about twelve yogis/yoginis at one time. Today, there were fifteen, which made for a cramped space but Lyneth actually quite liked it. It led to deeper understanding of ones' personal space, as well as lending great energy to the room during intense vinyasa sequences.

Plus, it made for more sweat. And more sweat was good for Lyneth. It poured out of her like water off a duck's back, soaking her clean through.

Soaking her clean.

With yoga, Lyneth found stillness. A passion. Something she could latch onto in this post-warrior world. Besides William, of course. A smile came to her face as she intoned that they move into savasana, the most sacred pose of all.

As the room lay there, breathing, Lyneth smiled and pushed pause on her iPod. She sat for several minutes, breathing in the stillness. Next to her, her phone lit up with a call from her husband. Thank Goddess it was on silent.

After the class awoke from meditation and she bid them farewell with a final jai bhagwan namaste, Lyneth spent a little while just sitting still, relishing the peace she got from a good practice. She would call William when she got home.

Who: William Harwood & Roxie Marx.
What: William needs a drink or two. Or five.
When: Very early in the morning.
Where: Dusk.
Rating: PG.
Status: In progress.

It had been that kind of night at the office that warranted a bottle of scotch and a cigar. William's night had started off perfectly enough with his American secretary catching him up to speed on what had gone on during the day, and giving him messages that had come down from London. However, he ended up spending the majority of his night on the phone with local clinics that were stating that they were running out of stock. Just as William had anticipated, the numbers were going up, but there was not enough supply to meet the demand. How this had happened, he wasn't entirely certain, but he refused to do anything else until the wheels were in motion to rectify the situation. When he wasn't on conference calls with the owners and operators of blood banks, he was contacting his own offices in London to talk to his vice president and the lead scientist in the lab that was housed in the basement of the high rise that Sanguine Corporation occupied. From there, conversations with his American counterparts were had, and he spent far too much time yelling at whomever was on the opposite end of the phone that he cared to do.

We should never run out, or come close to running out, he'd thought, and likely hollered at various points during the night. Without the steady production of their synthetic blood and plasma, the clinics and blood banks would not be able to supply the vampire population with an alternate source for food. On top of that, William's company had hospitals and aid organizations that used their product as well. There couldn't be shortages without carnage in a figurative and the most literal sense of the word. With most vampires moving to synthetic blood instead of feeding on humans, it was an absolute necessity that there be more than enough in all of the blood banks and clinics that William's company owned and operated.

So, it had indeed been a night that promoted drinking and perhaps unbuttoning the collar of his shirt.

As he walked back to his condo, William passed a bar called Dusk that all but screamed to him that he should come in, take a load off and have a drink or two. To be entirely truthful, as much as he wanted to recline in his favourite chair and simply drink until the sun came up, the desire to sit in a dark bar and pound back glasses of whiskey until last call creeped up on him quite unexpectedly. Smiling to himself, he headed into the bar to find it not quite packed, but nowhere near empty either. He headed right to the bar, and sat down in the first empty bar stool that he could find. He desperately wanted a glass of Bushmills (at least twenty-one years old), but quite frankly, he'd settle for anything with a percentage.

Who: William Harwood & Althea
What: A meeting between a vampire and seelie fey - this could be quite interesting!
When: Late evening
Where: Cove's downtown sector
Rating: PG at best
Status: Closed and complete

He was not at all surprised at the rain in the forecast; Washington State seemed to have abundance of rainy nights (he could not say nothing of the days). If nothing else, it made the unfamiliar environment feel at least slightly more like home, and he was kind of thankful in the most morbid of ways that he hadn't been required to go somewhere like Hawaii, where we would have needed a different wardrobe entirely. And perhaps a location of sun, sand, and surf was not a suitable locale for a red haired vampire. Although, if William wanted to attempt at waxing poetic, it was nothing like London rain.

The sun had long dipped past the horizon, although amidst all of the dark clouds in the sky, William wasn't certain that he would've been able to tell. He'd brought an umbrella to brave the weather, although it wouldn't have made a difference - the wind seemed keen on rendering it relatively useless by turning it inside out. William had decided to forgo calling a car to drive him to the offices of the local branch of his company, as it wasn't far, only a couple of blocks. When he had left it had seemed like a good night for walking, and he was well aware that he should familiarize himself with the area a bit more.

Having woken up a bit later than he would have liked, William was already running late (by his standards, no one else's), and had neglected to make himself his usual evening cup of tea before leaving his condo. Ducking into the first coffee shop he could find with its lights still on, William ducked inside, shaking the rain off of his coat and glanced at the bleary eyed barista standing behind the counter.

"Could I get a tea?" he asked, eyes scanning the menu.

"Herbal?" the barista asked, pulling her hair back in a ponytail.

"What?" William said, raising an eyebrow. "No, thank you. Just tea. You know, tea flavoured tea."

"Um, Earl Grey?"

"Yes, delightful," he replied, smiling at her, grabbing the day's paper from the nearby rack and waiting for the barista to return with his order.

Who: Thomas Fraser, Sir William Harwood III
When: Evening.
Where: The tarmac at the airport; William's office
What: An arrival and a phone call.
Rating: Pg
Status: Ongoing.

The plane ride had been a bit uneventful in spite of a little bout of turbulence over the Chicago area. That wind tunnel gets you every single time, Fraser knew, and it shouldn't have been a surprise considering all the flights he'd taken over the US, but this time the jolt snapped him out of a very satisfying daydream about his phone call with the Queen of the Wolves. At least, that's what she'd like him to call her. It was enough to make Fraser roll his eyes, until she'd made them actually roll back in his head.

He sighed, checking his seatbelt as the stewardess announced their descent. Just what was going on in The Cove? It was slowly spreading all over the cyber networks. Fraser had to field all the phone calls William couldn't get while his phone was on radio silence. Munlochy was notorious for dropping cell phone signals and Fraser had simply given up after the seventieth time he'd tried to text Baine his location. And now of course his phone was turned off. He didn't fuck with plane rules. Everything was turned off in the takeoff.

He shifted in his seat as the plane began its descent onto the West Coast. He looked outside. The sun was quickly disappearing behind the horizon. What the fuck time was it? He looked everywhere for his phone before remembering it was turned off, and finally managed to squint at the watch of the man in the seat across the aisle. 8:15 PM? Not too bad.

He twisted around in his seat and searched the plane until he found the black tresses of his triath's wife. He snapped his fingers, motioning to her windowshade. Lyneth looked up from her magazine and gave him an 'Are you fucking kidding me' face, before pulling down the shade even more. Better safe than sorry he Spoke to her. She looked up again, nodded, and kind of smiled at him. Fraser turned back around in his seat, already dreading the nights where he'd have to stake out her position. Like a leering, supernatural version of To Catch A Predator.

When they deplaned the sun was completely set, giving Lyneth a safer exit than they had thought. After putting her securely into a cab, Thomas reached for his phone, and scrolled down. He'd call Hugh, but he was probably up to his eyeballs with work for Maniel. Or he was asleep.

There was one guy, he knew, that would just be getting up.

His finger spun the navigation ball on his Torch until he reached the H's and a slow grin came over his face. Time to start reconnecting. Better late than never.

He pressed "Call."