25 April 2009 @ 09:27 pm
in the devil's territory  
When the plane touches down at Logan International at 6:42 PM and he wakes up from light, fitful sleep in the economy section, Shannon's body thinks it's 8 AM the next morning and he has the beginnings of an absolutely killer hangover.

For metaphorical purposes, it's entirely appropriate that his trip home from Sydney to Auckland to Los Angeles to Boston is the kind of experience that leaves a person with no real idea who they are, much less where. Sydney is 14 hours ahead of Boston, but the flight itself took just shy of 32 hours, including seven and four hour layovers, so technically speaking he makes the journey in what appears to be a mere 18 hours, although it feels, appropriately, like a lifetime.

Small mercies: his checked bag (an enormous army issue duffle) actually appears in the same city at the same time he does, and no goblins appeared on the wing midflight. So whether or not it's good to be home, home he is, and scanning the area around American Airlines' baggage claim for whoever they sent to pick him up. It's been more than a decade since he was in this country for very long; he's taller (having finally, finally stopped growing at exactly six and a half feet) and tanner and there are the kind of streaks in his hair that come from the sun, rather than the salon - and he looks completely at ease even when he'd basically like to turn right around and get back on the plane.

So the more things change, etc etc.
10 April 2009 @ 07:50 pm
If Livvie had known that Harry was in the library she might have stopped by to bother him but she was, in fact, in one of the computer sciences buildings, talking to a friend of a friend about some of her photographs.

The ones of the growing Paradox, actually.

She felt it before she saw it and the building was immediately put on lockdown (several million dollars of equipment and zombies don't mix) but fortunately there were about...a dozen people in the building, all told, and 3 of them were mages.

Make that two.

Three floors, 80 yards and .2 seconds later Livvie's in the courtyard, not far from science building, looking for signs of life and their approximation to signs of unlife.

To anyone coming past she probably just looks like some strange sort of junkie holding her cellphone open and staring at nothing. When a nearby shambler decides she looks delicious there's a high pitched whine from everywhere and nowhere before it's blasted about 15 feet away from her.

Then it gets back up. Then Livvie starts cursing a blue streak.
Current Location: near the science labs
Current Mood: angry
10 April 2009 @ 08:57 pm
team lolitroll AKA team otaku [Liam, Simon, Nadia, Emily]  
Emily is on campus to visit her 'boyfriend', and she's dressed for the occasion in a pleated blue skirt and a form-fitting white t-shirt paired with cute red flats. The fake glasses keep catching her hair in their clasps and it's annoying, but such are the things she has to put up. She's just texted him (where r u? come let me in ^_^) from where she's sitting in the bus shelter when she looks up and spots a woman in severe need of a shower approaching a cluster of students waiting to catch buses home, and doesn't think anything of it until she bites one of them.

Emily half-starts up, even if she'd deny it, and then witnesses the girl being bitten tear off the woman's rotting ear, which clues her into the fact that perhaps there is something worse than an ordinary assault. She considers telling Danny to stay inside, decides not to, and leaves the bus stop after she sees the crowd tear the woman off and go running.

But there are more dead men walking, and so Emily is still for a moment as she scans campus and decides where she'll go next.
11 April 2009 @ 02:51 am
At least it's not a subway train [Team Dipsmooch]  
Youko was just minding her own business, skulking around the shadier parts of campus and trying to track down a) any filthy murdering shen and b) a free meal - students in the West had a disconcerting, but profitable habit of leaving their food in order to run off to classes, not to mention the occasional booth by some food company or other offering samples and asking you to fill in some survey about how authentic their smoky bacon flavouring was.

One time, she had made the mistake of trying bacon bits. Ugh.

It was a not entirely disimilar feeling she had now, a revulsion that twisted her gut as a bus trundled slowly into a tree in front of her, smashing to a halt. The blood splatters on the windows were enough of a warning to have her gripping the hilt of her sword (she called it a prop when questioned, and no-one ever questioned further) as the doors pinged open and dispensed the walking dead. Not Kuei-Jin, more like Hsien but not the same - but whatever they were, they stank of death and blood and rot, shambling in ones and twos out of the bus, leaving behind the mostly-devoured corpses of the passengers and driver. Youko didn't bother counting them, just noting that they were most likely in the double figures before unsheathing her sword and moving to impale the front runner (shambler) in chest.

Hm. Still moving. This would take a little work. Perhaps she should remove the limbs.
10 April 2009 @ 09:46 pm
Team Sitcom [Grave, Alida, Marc]  
A typical night for a Nosferatu in Port Obscura goes something like this: wake up, tend to any responsibilities, skulk about, feed if necessary, skulk about some more, maybe visit the city's nest, in which case they may proceed to skulk about in packs instead.

A typical night for a Nosferatu in Port Obscura, going by the name of Grave, on the other hand, goes a little something like wake up, tend to the pets, have a lovely conversation with a dead man, skulk about, feed if necessary and skulk about some more.

Tonight, however, the latter of the two patterns has been broken. Broken in an absolutely spectacular manner, even, as Grave slips through the grating that separates his little block of sewer from the catacombs only to be attacked by his usual conversational partner. Twice.

It is not a terribly pleasing way to begin his evening.

In fact, so displeasing is it that he soon follows the entire encounter with a rather righteous bout of storming right on up the two flights of stairs from the lowest catacombs, past a good number of empty caskets which had not been empty the previous evening and out to the ground level exit from the mausoleum. Even before he gets there, the doors have been thrown open wide and what he sees beyond them is even less pleasing than what he found downstairs. Open burial plots, shambling corpses. A great deal of the cemetery - his cemetery! - is really quite a mess.

As if he needed any more displeasing events to start his night off right.

"Mary, mother of God," Grave practically splutters in aggravation, too frustrated to even apply a Mask. "If you're going to dig yourselves out of my lawn, you could at least have the decency to get out of my lawn entirely!"

It's probably a very good thing that the better part of the normal folks around the area are out of town tonight.
10 April 2009 @ 09:01 pm
no one should brave the underworld alone [team shame :: sebastian, sandy, julian, moses]  
At this time of night over Easter weekend, O'Dea's ground level computer lab is mostly deserted.  Moses considers the quiet one of the perks counting a family member amongst the faculty; he can traipse around the campus at times when most other folks - including his father, actually - are home, like sane people. 

But he has a paper due and with the sudden recent introduction of BEING A WEREWOLF in his life, he is finding time management a little more difficult.  Thus, here he is, struggling to comprehend Andrea Dworkin and failing spectacularly.  It is around the same he decides to just give up and go home (maybe he will call Broken Flowers and see if she understands this ;___;) that the noises start up outside.  College students will use essentially any holiday to get shitfaced, so the shrieks are par for the course at first, but then they don't stop, and there's a crash on the little stone patio beyond the swinging doors.  Moses, now more than a little concerned, shoulders his bag and heads for the exit.

The extra set of senses he carries around now are more often than not just downright confusing, and he really doesn't need them to tell that there's something wrong at this point, but --all the same he kind of wishes his ability to smell was a little less astute, because the smell of death is heavy on the air, and things that should not be moving ...are moving.

Two of them, moving like they're barely conscious of their own movements let alone one another's - Moses suffers a momentary kind of synesthesia where they look like people and should be people, but are not, and actually let's just go back to Andrea Dworkin now.  No?

Okay, fine.

HALP.  :(
10 April 2009 @ 07:04 pm
team grope [Harry, Katherine, Merrick, Snow]  
Snow isn't the type to often show up at the university, but Barking-Shadow told her to wait in the Maxwell Brooks Library for him (only nominally open on the first floor as a study area) while he ran home for supplies he forgot to pack earlier- he's meeting some girl in charge of a student group that wants to protest animal testing at the local drug company, which is ultimately less interesting to Snow than the obvious 'crush' (this is the word, she has learned) he has on her. The animals in question are rabbits; the real concern is that Pentex has taken them from creatures who might otherwise eat them, or so Snow stubbornly insists on seeing it.

But all of that is unimportant, besides waiting for him to come back as she sits with her feet on a desk and stares down anyone who might tell her to take her boots off of there. It's quiet here, at least, with all of the humans gone home for 'spring break', and she finds that she doesn't mind the way it smells, until she catches the hint of something that shouldn't be here. She thinks. She turns her head, mildly interested, and so she's the first person to see the dead man stumble through the glass doors at the front.

She isn't the first person to approach him, that honor going to a human in cowboy boots who went to offer help and promptly lost the front of his throat, and she certainly doesn't scream, because that would be silly- instead, as more of these things approach, she stands up and pulls out her knife as she considers the situation. Maybe she should go outside- yes, it will give her more room to move, so towards the doors she merrily heads. She is by now apparently the only person not screaming. Awkward.

Team Grope, ASSEMBLE.
09 April 2009 @ 05:08 pm
American(ism)s make no sense [open]  
"I don't understand this country."

This is not a new thing for Alida to say to Marc. It is, possibly, a new thing for her to say in English, in public, at a small restaurant not far from the arts district. It is definitely new for her to have a list. Written, in French, on the table as she picks at her fruit.

"When closed at night, the fear is that this would shut off rather than open up part of the city centre," she quoted, frowning. "It was in the newspaper and I cannot understand what they are afraid OF or what is closing or why anyone cares. Why is most of their money done in increments of fives but the taxes aren't? Why do the dollar and half-dollar coins look so much like the quarters of a dollar? How do you get anything done here? No one says please, or thank you, or good evening. They say Hi. Hi doesn't mean anything! Television commercials scream at consumers and are louder than the programs."

It might be a mixed blessing that she's decided to start paying attention to the world around her.
06 April 2009 @ 05:58 pm
and i know it's been quite a long time since i sang a hym without guilt in my eyes [emily, open]  
In the course of an average 11 PM  to 7 AM shift, a person can only do so many things to keep himself occupied before there's nothing left but the L.A. Times crossword puzzle.  He can make the schedule, which he has done (Poppy can't work Tuesdays anymore because she has a night class, he's actually going to have to fire Drew because even the most apathetic of managers can only ignore the coke residue in the employee bathroom so many times), he can restock the cigarette cartons, he can clean every single mirrored surface in the store until the reflection of his ridiculous eyes is inescapable, he can even occasionally wait on a customer.  Mostly he is refusing cigarettes to minors, whose stray thoughts produce a variety of expressions he doesn't bother to control.

Frequently, this makes them go away faster, and Liam is all right with this.  At 3:09 AM "Ziegfeld Follies hit song of 1913" (eleven letters across) is eluding him, and in the strange way where he never really feels much of anything, he is content. 

From experience, he should know this indicates a massive upheaval of some kind shortly incoming. 
05 April 2009 @ 06:22 pm
Livvie's had an interesting week. If by interesting you mean one that has resulted in nothing short of a shouting match with another Adept about what is and is not considered safe conduct when talking to Changelings over the internet. Or what Livvie has assumed is a Changeling, anyway.

She's not any closer to fixing the Paradox and the damned thing is growing. She should, she realizes, call Nadine, track down Sara, deal with this problem but tonight? Tonight it's not raining and Livvie's tired of talking shop. She wants to just...talk.

Harry's busy. What he's busy doing is long, complicated, and not exactly clear to her but she recognizes the need to lock oneself into a room and finish something when she sees (hears?) it, so Livvie keeps the phone call short.

Ring, ring. Are you busy tonight, Morgan?
Current Mood: cynical
01 April 2009 @ 05:46 pm
[open, perpetual] hello, corporate coffee.  
The Starbucks where Virgil works is nestled in a slighty trendy shopping center of Port Obscura that (as planned by the vampire who funded its construction back in the 90's) straddles the lines dividing the city into its downtown territories. Where it doesn't cross the borders, it's close enough that people can venture into the area at any hour without worrying about, say, angry werewolves telling them to get the hell out or a pack of Sabbat eating them alive. It's seen better days, there's litter in the parking lot that never quite gets picked up, and the lighting in a lot of places could be much brighter, but all things considered it's not a bad place to go and meet people.

This particular Starbucks has seen more than a few secret late night meetings because it's a) placed so that you can get in and out the doors inconspicuously and b) no one expects people to bargain over the fate of, say, a boxed Methusalah in a Starbucks. It looks, sounds, and smells like any other Starbucks in the world.

Virgil works there full-time, and his hours are as follows:

   Wednesday: 6:00 a.m. - 2:00 p.m.
   Thursday: 6:00 a.m. - 2:00 p.m.
   Friday: 6:00 a.m. - 2:00 p.m.
   Saturday: 3:00 p.m. - 11:00 p.m.
   Sunday: 3:00 p.m. - 11:00 p.m.

However, he also covers plenty of shifts and works overtime when he can, so you're free to assume he's there any time that it's open (7:00 a.m. - 11:00 p.m., except on holidays) as long as it doesn't get crazy. He will be behind the counter in Starbucks' uniform, sullenly serving coffee and occasionally hitting the side of the expresso machine while swearing under his breath.
25 March 2009 @ 01:21 pm
half psychotic sick hypnotic got my blueprint it's symphonic  
The get-together is a sprawling affair, as anyone might have predicted, organized by one Jacob St. Croix; additionally, at the behest of the Prince of the city, who may just be fucking with everyone or may actually have some genuine ulterior motive, it takes place at one of the venues specifically arranged to be on neutral ground. Those who choose to attend are expected to behave themselves and to keep their impulses in check- it seems like a suicidal idea, asking all the supernatural to blend together in one place, but perhaps that's part of the fun. Who will make it through the night?

Not everyone, after all, is prepared to mingle with wolves, drink with witches, and dance with the dead. )