Halcyon Halls

Who: Starbuck and Cat
When: Monday night
Where: Kitchens

The weekend had been a quiet one. Starbuck spent much of it in the water or in bed. He wasn't feeling all that social, and it was clear Kat wanted some space. As reluctant as he was to give it to her, knowing something was wrong, he kept his distance. Starbuck was trying to do what was right, but that was damn difficult when you didn't know how to define 'right'.

Now the school week was up and running again, and things didn't seem to be getting any better. Kat seemed worse. She acted so strangely in their classes. Twitchy and unfocused. There was that gut instinct to reach out and help, but he knew his hand would just be slapped away, and Starbuck didn't want to make things worse for her. She had enough problems to deal with, his grumpy state didn't need to be added to the list. No, he'd just keep his mouth shut for the time being, all the while keeping a close eye on her. If things got bad, if he really thought she needed help, he'd step in and ignore her protests. Yeah, she might dump him, but he wasn't gonna let this shit with Wes destroy her. Better she focus her energy on hating Starbuck than implode from the other hardships in her life.

But since he wasn't in 'hero' mode at the moment, he figured he might as well try and be productive in other areas of his life. He'd taken Vegas to the beach before sunset and 'introduced' her to the family group he'd found. They all got along fairly well, and he was confident Vegas would be able to stay with them and be accepted as a foster pup. Still, Starbuck felt it was best to make her reintroduction in the wild a gradual process. He'd continue to supervise visits between both parties until he was absolutely sure the little otter would be safe without him present. It would be hard letting go, but it was the right thing to do. Vegas didn't belong to him or anyone else. She belonged out at sea with her own kind.

He was feeling a mix of emotions over the whole situation, sad and happy at the same time. It was great to have found a family that seemed to fit, but knowing what was coming left him feeling a bit sullen. Such emotions made it difficult to focus on his studies, so he left his room behind and headed to the kitchens. Maybe a snack would provide enough of a distraction to let him get back to business with preparing for exams.

Seemed a lot of students were in the same sort of mood. They were quieter than normal, and few gave him more than a acknowledging glance as he passed through the halls. Starbuck moved from his room to the kitchens in silence, not even making noise with his steps, because he'd foregone any sort of covering for his feet. It was night, and he'd probably be attempting to sleep in a few hours, so he was already in lounge wear, just dressed in some navy mesh pants and a plain white t-shirt. He was all about comfort while cramming information into his noggin.

Now he just needed to stuff some nourishment into his gut. The kitchens were almost completely dark, just a night light of sorts was lit, but he liked it that way. Bright fluorescents never suited him. They made him all squinty, and that was a strange look on Starbuck. Besides, the harshness of such lighting exposed things probably better not seen.

As he rummaged through the fridge, he heard someone approaching. Starbuck pulled his head out from around the door, pear already stuffed in his mouth and hanging there. "Oh... hey," he mumbled as he reached up and grabbed the fruit, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It was the 'cook', Catalina.

Who: Everyone who received an invite, and their guest (Check Wes' page, if you're not sure about an invite.)
Where: Gun Smoke Tattoo
When: Thursday Night
What: Shop Warming party, and small gig

There was a goal here. After living in Vegas, having been to so many bitchin' parties, your standards for them rose. The normal, punch, and cookies, with a shit ass dj, lurking in some corner, wouldn't cut it here. Hell no. The goal, was to make this party, just as fucking killer, as any party he'd been to in Vegas. To make those parties jealous even. With the help of his friends, and brothers, it seemed as if that was going to happen. All the elements were in place, now it would be down to those in attendance, to make the most of it. Wes was sure of one thing, he was going to have an amazing time, there would be no stopping that.

The Spooks had been a huge help, in their time on the island. While Wes tended to his classes, they took care of setting up for the party. Doing little things here, and there. Anyone who came into the shop after that Monday, would notice that certain things were off. It was all in preparation. Now, it was ready, everything was good. A bar had been constructed against on the walls. Bottles, upon bottles were either stacked beneath it, or on the packing crate shelves they had built last Monday. Wes had been told that there was more than enough liquor... he was starting to question whether it was enough. Also available at the bar, one would find certain goodies upon request. That was one good thing, about knowing drug dealers. They made excellent party guest. Aside from the bar, another sofa had been added to the sitting area, similar to the one all ready occupying the space, but not nearly as detailed.
( Let the fun begin. )

Who: Cat and Wes
When: Evening
What: Drinks at Heaven and Hell

Warning: Adult content

Considering she'd had an amazingly good time with Wes the first time they'd gone for drinks together post-tattoo, Cat supposed she shouldn't have been too surprised by the offer for a second night out. She was, though, and pleasantly so. She'd agreed without a second thought. After all, who wouldn't say yes to an evening out with an attractive, single man? The fact that he had a sense of humor just dry enough to keep her entertained and that bad boy appeal the drew her in like a magnet didn't hurt either. So when Tuesday rolled around, Cat made sure to get everything in her kitchen squared away early. She wanted to have enough time to devote to looking damn good. Picking through her closet for something that was sexy without trying too hard would take a good chunk of time given the clothes horse that she was.

She left mid-afternoon to do just that - pick through every section of her closet until, towards the back, she came across the perfect dress. She couldn't remember buying it and it still had the tags attached, but it seemed ideal for a night out having drinks. Outfit selected, the whole process of getting ready could officially start: she showered, blew dry her hair and pulled part of it back out of her face, she kept her make up light for the evening not wanting to overdo it, heck she didn't even really bother with jewelry. Grabbing a pair of leather boots from her closet she slid them on and zipped them closed around her calves before pulling on the dress she'd chosen for her evening out with Wes. The color was statement enough and the way it flowed over her curves like a loose bed sheet might didn't hurt things.

They'd agreed to meet downstairs where the cabs tended to wait to pick up those headed into town and so around 8ish she made her way from her room towards said meeting point. She carried a simple little black clutch with all the necessities for the night, going all around for that sexy/simple feel. She'd pulled it off quite well in her opinion, not to mention that of the students she passed on her way out. Or maybe it was that, given the material of her dress, exactly what type (if any) of undergarments she wore to prevent any unsightly lines was a topic meant for a conversation all it's own.

By the time she reached their rendezvous point, Wes was already there and waiting. From the looks of things he'd only just arrived, thankfully he hadn't been kept waiting. "Ready to see if Hell can handle the both of us?" she quipped with a smile as she approached. Something told her the two of them could get into more than their fair share of trouble if given half the chance. Tonight was definitely going to be a good time for the both of them, she was sure of that.

Who: Catalina and Wes
Where: Gun Smoke Tattoos
What: Cat goes for her very first tattoo

Tuesdays tended to be slow in the school's kitchen for some reason and so it tended to be the perfect time for Catalina to slip away and spend some time on her own. Today she felt like heading into town, maybe doing some shopping, catching a movie or stopping by the new tattoo parlor that she'd read about on the school's journaling system. They were offering a pretty nice discount to boot and getting a tattoo was something she'd intended to do for awhile now - yet another life experience to add to a growing list. It was, after all, one of the few things she had yet to do in her ever-expanding lifespan and crossing it off the list seemed a good way to pass the time.

Cat had dressed casually for the day, not quite sure where it might take her, but wanting to be comfortable. She hailed a cab to head into town, stopped off for a quick bite at a little cafe she'd discovered soon after arriving and had grown quite fond of. It was off one of the main streets and allowed for some good window shopping afterwards, though nothing really struck her fancy. It was almost by accident that she came across Gun Smoke Tattoos. She'd simply turned the corner and there it was, staring her in the face. Had to be a sign, right? Nothing else was striking her fancy and she was bound to end up in the parlor eventually. No time like the presence.

She crossed the street and headed towards the shops front door, pulling it open to step inside. A bell sounded overhead to announce her presence, followed a moment later by the sound of her heels clicking lightly against the linoleum floor. She could hear a voice in the background - it sounded as if someone was on the phone - and so she busied herself with taking a moment to look over the impressive flash that covered the shop's walls. Some of it was more typical than she would pick for herself, but even in the most inane design there was obvious skill. She strolled along one side of the shop, eyes combing over the artwork displayed. So far the place was making quite the impression.

Who: Ezra and open
Where: Hallcyon stairwell, between tarot reading and going to his office
When: Week One: Wednesday

School, in any capacity, was still somewhat of an unfamiliar and strange experience for him. His learning had been at home with his mother or in the more intimate setting of having a mentor or personal teacher. All this hustle and bustle was a bit foreign in his life. Even when he travelled he eschewed the busier parts of life and tried his very best to stick to the quieter, more serene atmospheres. It had only been a little over a month, but Ezra already knew some of the best ways to get around with the least people. Little corners that weren't being used with usually empty stairwells and hallways.

So far, so good. He hadn't had any really bad episodes. For Ezra that meant he'd been able to attend all his classes and, thus far, hadn't spent a day or two stuffed into a little box trying to regain his sense of sanity and self. There were good days and bad days, then okay days and extremely tough days, but he was weathering the storm. He thought his students sort of knew, anyway. When they asked him a question and his eyes were glazed over for a minute or more while he mindlessly stroked a card or watched tea leaves settle.

They looked at him curiously for knowledge, but, probably just as curiously to them, he resolutely acted like he'd seen absolutely nothing. In the hallways, no one paid him much mind, except a few people complimenting his dress. That always kind of made his day. Today he had on black pants with a black button down. Over that a black satin-backed vest with a houndstooth front panels, pocket watch and dapper black sports jacket with black and white faux-suede shoes. His hair was immaculately pointed and his briefcase all leathery and new, strapped over his shoulder.

He should have known he'd pay for his lack of attention. His divination class was too many floors up, but he had too much pride to complain about it. All it took was a swirl of dust on his usual, slightly darkened route. Those curiously swirling eyes of his glazed over for less than a second, nothing really, but it was just enough to make him miss that his eyes misjudged the distance, just by a smidge, between his foot and the first step. Twisting, he tried in vain to avoid the inevitable.

There was that moment of weightlessness, when the world seems to stop and you realize what's about to happen. He felt himself react and float, literally, for at least a full half or three-quarters of a second, before good ol' gravity returned again. Dimly, somewhere in the thud and twists of his adventure down the stairs, he heard one of his shoes clatter and stop somehwere halfway down. He hit the ground hard enough to slide a few inches across the slick marble floor. Coughing, he pulled his bag from around his neck and just lay there for a second, getting his bearings slowly. Damn, traitorous eyes. He'd probably made a right racket with that one.

Who: Kiernan and Catalina
Where: The Kitchens
When: Tuesday Evening


You'd think he would have learned his lesson by now. But then again the first thing many people described him as (after asshole) was stubborn. It had served him well over the years to stick to his goals, to not budge on them no matter what life threw his way. Without that particular trait... chances were he'd have done absolutely nothing with his life. Though at this moment in time he wondered if that hadn't been the better option. A good woman would still be alive if he hadn't pushed for the life that he'd created for himself. But then again Alana wouldn't be here and even Kiernan wasn't hard hearted enough to wish that to be different. Yes, he had a ridiculously large soft spot for his daughter. It was going to be hell when she got to be a teenager.

But to the point at hand, his stubborness had gotten him nothing but trouble currently. His stubbornnes regarding doing what was necessary to keep himself... if not alive, from becoming a raging asshole. More so than he already was. Yes, Keirnan had a problem accepting the fact that he needed blood on a regular basis to function. He seemed to think that mind over matter could somehow make it all work out. It was clearly not working.

Alana had been with the sitter too much lately. But there was something all too disturbing about taking the term one's flesh and blood all too literally. To put it simply... it creeped Kiernan out. The logical part of his brain said that if he just kept up with the whole thing, went down to the kitchens and used the blood that they provided that he wouldn't have this problem, but he really wasn't logical when it came to his current predicament. No, he was pretty much illogical about it all.

And if you wanted to tell him that... go right ahead. But let's just say that his reception of that gem wouldn't be to welcoming. He had a bit of a problem accepting well meaning advice.

So finally, when he couldn't stand it anymore, clad in the same pinstripe slacks he'd worn earlier and white button down with the sleeves rolled up, he had forced himself down into the kitchens and pulled a bag out of the refrigerator that kept the blood and was contemplating how much it royally sucked to have to do this when ordinarily a fantastic steak would be what would cure the kind of hunger he currently had. But no... instead it was some lukewarm bodily fluid that was meant to make it into his body.

While he was there he should pick up some cookies for Alana... something to start to make up for the fact that he hadn't been around much.