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[Nov. 23rd, 2009|02:15 am] |
Who: Toki, Teja, Soren, Miniver
What: Panicked daddy and uncle need to see the newly resurrected Teja
Where: Casa de Wolfpack, London
When: RIGHT DE HELLS NOW
Warnings: Probably a little swearing, nothing else.
Toki had realized only a couple minutes previous to his rushed state of putting on his coat and shuffling Miniver to the car so the hippie could drive that Teja had been reborn. He was fidgeting with his collar and his sleeves. Soren said he'd picked up Teja and was looking after him, and that made Toki a little more pleased with the situation. Soren was above and beyond a kind heart.
Teja in the meanwhile, was about a year and a half old in appearance. He had a netbook nearby so he could easily communicate without his unfamiliar oral palate giving him issue. He was only slightly in pain - growing pains of aging approximately four and a half years a day - but otherwise was quite himself. He remembered everything up until the point of his death. He'd eaten, quite plentifully and morbidly, in fact, but he was constantly and had food nearby that he snacked on idly as he read a book that he'd found in the library. He finally had picked up one of Soren's books. He was thankful for Soren's hospitality and looking in on him occasionally. He wasn't yet aware that his biological father was about to show up. |
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[Nov. 22nd, 2009|08:09 pm] |
Who: Aziraphale and Crowley
What: Discussions, possibly of a marriage-related social contractual nature. It is all Mary's fault!
When/Where: Backdated to yesterday evening, St. James Park, London
Warnings: Entirely possible, will update if needed.
Right after receiving the last message from Aziraphale, Crowley willed himself over to St. James park, day-old loaf of bread in tow. Mary, and her ridiculous mention of marriage, had got him to thinking. And, if that entire debacle with Satan and her human was any sort of omen, well. Excuse Crowley for wanting to to know where he and his Angel stood.
Walking over to the pond, he was trying to be quiet, so as not to disturb his lover and the fowl. But he couldn't stop the snort at the sight of the well-worn tweed blazer his lover was fond of, near-camouflage against the pine and fall leaves of the forest around them.
He moved to stand next to his lover, opening the bag of bread and ripping off a chunk to toss to the nearest waterfowl.
"Wherever did you find that coat? I thought you'd lost it," Moreover, he was almost positive he'd buried it in the foundation of his new club. |
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[Nov. 21st, 2009|08:02 pm] |
Who: Open to anyone attending Homecoming.
What: Taunton Homecoming Dance
Warning: Explosions!
( Homecoming Dance ) |
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[Nov. 20th, 2009|08:32 pm] |
Who: Sophie Frost and Jon Kent (with Gar Logan)
Where: The Homecoming Dance
Warnings: Nah.
( It's my party.. ) |
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[Nov. 19th, 2009|09:58 pm] |
Who: Dominic Jude and Parker Preston Whitley
What: Painting Dom's office
Where: Dom's office, Bedlam
When: Tonight
Warnings: Will update if necessary
Parker had picked up several gallons of paint, in varying colours. He wanted to have at least one shade of every colour on hand, because he couldn't ever be sure what colour Dom would want at any given moment. Chances were each wall would be painted a different colour, and other colours would likely be mixed in. Painting Dom's office was going to be an event, that much was certain.
Parker went inside to find a cart, to wheel the paints in, far easier than making several trips in and out carrying the cans. He stopped outside the office door, waiting for Dom to unlock it. Seemed only right to let Dom open the door, the first time they were going in together. |
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| One man, one man alone/In that outlandish gear |
[Nov. 19th, 2009|06:08 pm] |
WHO: Fiona Glenanne and Riordan Byrne
WHAT: Drinks and conversation
WHERE: The Sign of the Weasel
WHEN: Soon after Fiona's arrival
WARNINGS: Language, likely.
A lovely little shop with thick walls and patrons who tend to go curiously deaf in the vicinity of private affairs, he'd said. The description reminded Fiona of certain pubs she'd known in Dublin. Pubs that catered to Provos or tolerated them. Or some other splinter group of the lads. Who was had said that the first item on any Irish agenda was "split"?
As she'd been warned in that painfully bright website, Fiona had found a wallet in her purse with a few pound notes and a British Airways American Express card. Dear God, if I've replaced a flight attendant, I'll need to buy some teeth-kicking heels, and then find someone who deserves to see the soles up close and personal, Fiona thinks. More prudently and immediately, however, she uses the spoils to buy a brimmed hat and a carefully chosen set of cosmetics, suitable for any quick disguise she might need. Just in case.
Back in the UK, only minutes away from Ireland. Her shoulders twitch as she enters the Sign of the Weasel. Another world this may be, an assertion she accepts as a working hypothesis for now, subject to proof, but she'd spent a dozen years and more running with the IRA, and she knows there are plenty of Irish "patriots" who wouldn't hesitate to blow her up if they ever learned what she'd done to Thomas O'Neill. Any excuse to go after a "traitor" to the sacred cause. All the while proclaiming their allegiance to the Republic of Ireland, indivisible, because murder was more fun if you could wrap yourself in a flag and sing century-old songs all the while.
Patriots. Ha.
Ireland should never be big enough for such men as that.
Riordan Byrne, whatever else he was, didn't seem like that sort of man. A wee gombeen, perhaps, fond of a couple of jars every evening, but better that than a terrible fella.
As her eyes adjust to the change in lighting, she looks around for Riordan Byrne. |
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[Nov. 18th, 2009|02:17 am] |
WHO: Miniver Cheevy and Sable Harris
WHAT: Post-battle fallout
WHERE: Casa del Teague
WHEN: Soonish after the Mordhaus demon battle
WARNINGS: Sable is not very nice when she is pissed off. Also, heavy angsting from the Cheevy.
-----
Follow the link... |
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[Nov. 17th, 2009|08:48 pm] |
Who: Candy Quackenbush and Sam Ford.
What: Talking.
When: After this post.
Where: A coffee shop near their houses.
Warnings: Maybe some potty talk, nothing else.
( Talking about Things. ) |
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[Nov. 16th, 2009|04:28 pm] |
Who: Lirael and Jareth
Where: Jareth's kingdom
Warnings: Depends on how foolish Lirael is.. I'll update if needed!
( It's only forever ) |
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[Nov. 15th, 2009|11:16 pm] |
Who: Dethklok inc. and Mephistopheles' Demon Army
What: DEMON INVASION
Where: Mini-Mordhaus (with Mordhaus being spoken about, probably.)
When: 7-12pm EST sortakinda
Warnings: Death. Swearing. BRUTALITYYYYYYY
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[Nov. 15th, 2009|06:47 pm] |
WHO: Annie and Keller, possible interjections from assorted Winchesters at the beginning if they wish
WHAT: Second date
WHERE: Picking Annie up at Mini-Chez Winchester, then Scotland
WHEN: Ages ago. Apologies to all and sundry.
WARNINGS: Maybe a little romance, maybe a little language. Nothing major.
Annie had just finished dressing in an outfit that didn't look particularly trampy, but neither was it saying "get away from me." She had to admit, this was a good idea of Keller's. She'd be curious to see what happened. And if she could just get out of the house without Dani or Robbie seeing who was picking her up, that would be awesome. |
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[Nov. 11th, 2009|12:04 am] |
Who: Natalie and Nathan Explosion
What: I DON'T KNOW. EMOTIONAL CRAP.
Where: Mordhaus, Mordland, then Berne, then Cabo, then Vegas
When: Tuesday night/Wednesday morning.
Warnings: Brutality, swearing, senseless destruction of expensive furniture and people's faces, sex, more swearing.
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[Nov. 10th, 2009|06:25 pm] |
Who: Damien [open to Oliver or anyone who read his post)
When: Afternoon
Where: Thorn Manor
What: Testing out his waterbed ^_^
Rating: Could be very high.
Warnings: Yes, most likely. Funtiems. ;)
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( Ride the wave.. ) |
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[Nov. 9th, 2009|08:12 pm] |
Who: Charles Offdensen & Teja Wartooth
What: Some sort of Employer/Employee Father/Son sort of chitchat of morbidity.
Where: Mordhaus, Mordland
When: Tonight after their Kansas concert
Warnings: Swearing, talking of death, you know. Usual death metal stuff.
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[Nov. 7th, 2009|11:37 pm] |
Who: Kai and Rurik
What: A surprise.
When/Where: Backdated to Kai's last post/Kai and Rurik's place in Las Vegas.
Warnings: More than likely.
Still riding the pleasant buzz that came from the blood of a fae, Kai was draped lazily over the couch in the front room, strumming a guitar with no real melody in mind. He was curious about Rurik's 'surprise', of course, but tried not to look too anxious. It tended to make the man insufferable. Despite his attempt at calm, he couldn't help but glance over to the door every now and again, trying to will the other man home so he could see what all the fuss was about. |
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| On State Street, that great street.... |
[Nov. 7th, 2009|02:23 pm] |
WHO: Meg Thatcher and Constable Benton Fraser
WHAT: Meg arrives for her new undercover assignment
WHERE: Chicago, IL
WHEN: Late in the afternoon
WARNINGS: Doubtful; will update as needed.The Mounties are makin' out again. Sex can't be far behind.
I just wanna say
They do things they don't do on Broadway
You'll have the time, the time of your life
Bring all your friends, all your kids, and your wife....
Meg Thatcher had been feeling the effects of fatigue when the cab dropped her off on Stetson Avenue, but she feels a fresh surge of adrenaline as she enters the tall building at 180 North to take the elevator to the 24th floor.
2 ... 5 ... 9 ... 11 ... 20 ... 21 ... 22 ... 23 ... 24....
Incredible. A far cry from the relatively modest structure they had used on her arrival to Chicago years ago, and more modern and efficient (though less elegant) than its successor. She can't help but envy Ben his posting, though she knows how unhappy he is here. He doesn't need to say anything for her to understand that.
Still, as she walks from the elevator down the hall to the large glass doors, she finds her pace quickening, and she has to force herself to a more sedate stroll, resisting the urge to yank open the door engraved with the single maple leaf.
A young, dark-haired, olive-skinned woman in the blue Undress Order of the RCMP greets her with a polite smile, then a sudden widening of the eyes. "Ah, welcome to the Canadian Consulate of Chicago," she says, eying Meg with greater than usual interest. "How may I assist you?"
Meg swallows, her throat feeling suddenly dry. "I'm here for the Registration of Canadians Abroad service. I understand there's some paperwork I'll need to fill out while I'm here at the University of Chicago?"
"Yes," says the constable, her gaze flicking curiously to Meg's left hand. "It's not a requirement, but we do recommend all Canadian citizens register when they'll be traveling abroad, either before they leave or once they arrive at their destination." She glances about. The office seems relatively quiet at this hour, Consular staff preparing to wind up the final minutes of their day in their cubicles. "If you'll follow me? Constable Fraser would be happy to assist you."
The two women make their way through the maze of bureaucratic furniture until they arrive at the cubicle labeled with the name Meg has held in her thoughts all day.
CONSTABLE BENTON FRASER
The muzzle of an Arctic wolf can be seen at the cubicle's entrance, close to the floor, pointed in the direction of the office chair occupied by the cubicle's resident Mountie.
"Fraser?" says Hourani. "Could you help this lady with her ROCA paperwork?" |
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| A stage where every man must play a part |
[Nov. 7th, 2009|12:06 am] |
WHO: Geoffrey Tennant and Ellen Fanshaw
WHAT: Theatre Hunt!
WHERE: Toronto, ON
WHEN: This morning
WARNINGS: Language.
The fingers of Old Man Winter are beginning to encroach upon Canada, which in layman's-- or rather, Ellen's-- terms, means that it's fucking freezing as they get out of the estate agent's car and approach the old building on Geoffrey's shortlist to become their new theatre.
This particular building has certainly seen better days. Its detailed brick frontage and architecture is distinctly Edwardian in origin; several plywood-boarded windows adding to the rundown effect. It's had moderate upgrades since then, though the many broken lightbulbs on the dilapidated 60's-era signage are testament to how few and far between those upgrades have been.
Geoffrey stands for a moment gazing up appreciatively at its facade, his breath clouding in the air. He doesn't see ruin; he sees potential.
And he's grinning like a kid who's just found the candy store. This is where Théâtre sans Argent will find its feet again. |
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[Nov. 5th, 2009|07:08 pm] |
Who: Delbchaem and Johnny Hickory
When: Evening
Where: Johnny's place
Warnings: They're hoping so
Johnny grinned, strumming his guitar lazily in the section of the flat for recording music. There had to be four guitars, a few violins, and plenty of tech for it, and few years of pay to get this kind of swag. And there was promise of some smoking woman coming over and having some fun. Halloween candy, go figure. This night was going to be... interesting. |
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[Nov. 2nd, 2009|09:05 pm] |
Who: Sophie Frost and Gar Logan
Where: Frost Mansion
Warnings: Emoface
( Down and down we go ) |
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[Oct. 31st, 2009|06:36 pm] |
Who: Anyone and everyone
Where: Guildhall, New Orleans
When: Midafternoon Oct 31st until everyone goes home.
What: Paaaartaaay!
Warnings: More than likely!
The lower level of the guildhall was done up like a Starbucks from Hell, with authentic branded crap onna shelf, sucky music over by the bar, and authentic baristas, all having died of something hipstery. There was coffee and booze and snacks, there was a dance floor cordoned off in one corner, and most of the other rooms were open for lounging or milling around.
The Birthday Girl was, at that particular moment, near enough to the door that she could greet all comers, but far enough away that she wasn't a foreboding presence. She was dressed as Anne Bonney, men's shirt, well-worn navy uniform pants, a belt made of rope and a pirate sword on one hip and a blunderbuss on the other. Her hair was tied back with a double-knotted twist of twine, and her tattoos were almost all visible.
(post, thread, mingle and hang out, talk amongst yourselves, be prepared to have Henn and her crew, crash any and all threads) |
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[Oct. 28th, 2009|03:24 am] |
Who: Cassie Turner and Sor Skwigelf.
What: Sleepovers!
When: Friday night.
Where: Casa del Wolfpack.
Warnings: Cuteness, nothing else. They're not even teenagers.
( S'mores and staying up late. ) |
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[Oct. 26th, 2009|08:09 pm] |
WHO: Annie and Brendann
WHAT: Just talkin'.
WHERE: A tea/coffee place in London.
WHEN: Nowish
WARNINGS: Nah.
She'd texted Brendann last week asking if he wanted to go get coffee sometime, and he'd finally gotten back to her. She'd mocked him for being a Big Important Chef Type, then settled on a date and time. And now she was sitting at a corner table, legs crossed, happily sipping black coffee. It felt good inside - it was getting damn cold around here lately. She had wondered more than once how it'd be in Scotland this week. |
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[Oct. 25th, 2009|08:32 pm] |
Who: Elliot, Johnny Hickory, Tachikoma
What: Epic scuffles, Halloween personality switches, ahoy!
Where: Pub o' Jour
When: Halloween's Eve (yeah we're early, impatient much?)
Warnings: Violence, cursing, candy corn
Johnny neatly dodged another giggling Tinkerbell on her way to the powder room, trying to not inhale the miasma of glitter following her. This was Tachi's first sortie out as a real pub musician. Bagpipes, of all the instruments to choose. He chuckled and shook his head. Made sense with the bubbly and beyond quirky robot-turned-girl and she had been practicing the aptly themed music for a good while.
Screwing the hat better to his head, he had chosen a respectable Zorro costume for the night's festivities, Johnny wandered on into the pub. The public was starting to mill and fill the area. |
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[Oct. 23rd, 2009|10:37 pm] |
Who: Gaala and Tej
What: Epic Dragon Battles
Where: Mordhaus, Mordland
When: Now-ish
Warnings: Nope. Well, maybe if you don't understand Skwigelvian.
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[Oct. 23rd, 2009|12:23 am] |
Who: Soren Skwigelf and Cassidy Turner.
What: Stern Lectures.
When: Thursday afternoon.
Where: Casa del Wolfpackyness.
Warnings: As always, yes.
( Someone had to do it. ) |
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[Oct. 21st, 2009|09:21 pm] |
Who: Sable & Teja
What: The most epic game of hide & seek
Where: St. John's City, Newfoundland
When: This upcoming Sunday WE'RE POSTING FROM THE FUUUUTURE
Warnings: Oh, you know, whatever. Probably swearing, probably Teja acting nice. The latter is a not-mind-safe sort of situation.
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