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May, 2010... Fantasy became reality. Worlds overlay for the briefest moment. Outworlders became stranded on earth as more than half the human populace vanished. Our World, our universe, was transformed.

Fiction is now reality. Humans and those now bound to this world will either learn to coexist, or battle for supremecy.





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  1. Last week
  2. HOME | PLOT | SPECIES | WANTEDS | ADVERTISEMENTS A small city in Massachusetts, Tempest Harbor has found itself at the epicenter of supernatural living for quite some time. With an established distaste between the two werewolf packs, the rise in tension within the vampire community, and two witch heirs that are coming into their own as leaders, much remains distressed within the harbor. As tourist season comes and goes, the supernaturals see an ever occurring flux and wane with their population, although this season, their population took an even greater hit. The joining of forces is needed as a new extermination organization has started to infiltrate their haven. But with their own mess of problems, who will look at the looming threat on the horizon? Tempest Harbor is a modern supernatural fantasy roleplay for mature players (18 years and older). With two application forms, 6 species to choose from, and a wonderful community, all are welcome to join us.
  3. Earlier
  4. Thomas Gallo

    To FInger Lakes

    October 29th, 2022 Finger Lakes Winery Winding through the quiet roads outside Finger Lakes Winery, Tom rolled down the windows and enjoyed the crisp autumn air flooding inside his black BMW SUV. Tom smiled briefly as he remembered Matteo’s apprehension about having to speak to Victor. No one liked dealing with Victor if they didn’t have to. Victor wasn’t…as personable as many others. If there were an antithesis to Matteo’s oily charm, it was Victor’s rough, no-nonsense, curmudgeony bluntness. Tom often thought Victor saw Matteo the same way an octogenarian saw teenagers. Tom chuckled softly as that comparison came to his mind. It was fitting. Tom rather enjoyed Victor’s company, however. Of the other caporegimes, Victor and Tom understood each other better than the others. There was no doubt that their shared lycanthrope condition played a role in their relatability to one another. It went deeper than that, however. In both of their previous, smaller, families...they were often regarded as the cold tacticians. They were both valued for their ability to see past the drama of “who was disrespected” etc. Not that respect wasn’t important, it was very important. However…delayed “justice” could wind up paying off better than immediate justice. Tom had, as well as Victor, been the few voices that saw that wisdom and had the power to convince others of that path as well. The two of them were alike in more ways than one. Although, they weren’t totally the same. Their struggles with the Nevus were different. They were both ‘touched’ as Eris had put it. Changed without having been bitten. To the best of Tom’s knowledge, only he, Victor, and Tom’s father were ‘touched’. He knew there had to be others, however he hadn’t devoted any attention to locating them. He suspected there was value in knowing who those were. There may be a way to undo the virus effects if they could locate the others like them. The shocked look on Eris’s face while in the chopper came to his memory as he thought of that. No. The fear/awe on her face haunted Tom’s memory. There would be others looking to do collect them as well. It was best to keep that knowledge of himself, Victor, and his father to himself. He had no intention of becoming a lab rat. Victor’s burdens of the change were different from Tom’s in some respect. He didn’t have the same ‘hyper-were’ traits that Tom did. The typical ‘were-qualities’ were stronger in Tom. He was stronger than many, healed faster, senses were stronger, etc. He also had a stronger allergy to silver. The rage within Tom from the were-nature was unequaled by any other lycanthrope he had encountered. It seemed to Tom that he just received a double-helping of all were-creature traits. The lunar cycle timings also appeared to be unique to he and his father. He hadn’t encountered any others like the two of them where they weren’t utterly worthless the day after the full moon. Victor, however, was much more typical…as typical as weres can be. His strength would crescendo with the full moon, and then plummet the night after. Slowly, as the next full moon approached, it would build and build until it was full again. It was often because of this, that Tom chose to schedule his visits to Victor around the New Moon. While Tom wasn’t sure who was physically stronger in their beast forms…he suspected that his wolf might have the edge if it ever came to blows. Tom suspected Victor knew this. This meant that visiting Victor when Tom was at his weakest while Victor was approaching his strongest would set up the better, instinctive, power dynamic. It was never acknowledged openly, but Victor recognized this calculation. It was smart for a subordinate to not have anything that could be viewed as a challenge to his superior. Tom was a smart kid. Victor had also been better able to control his ‘beast.’ Tom wasn’t sure if all other weres had internally personified the rage inside like he had. But from what Tom could see, Victor was able to keep a lid on his rage. Like a snarling hound on a leash, Victor’s beast was neatly put into the cellar for three nights each month, and then he proceeded with business as usual. Tom envied that level of control. Tom’s knuckles turned white as Tom was squeezing the steering wheel while he drove. The thought of Victor’s cage for the turn summoned something akin to a fight or flight response…even now. Tom didn’t even like having his office door closed closer to the moon. That confined space…no. Just no. Tom wondered idly as he drove if Eris would actually come to the Masquerade. He suspected it would be an instinctive ‘no.’ Those events were certainly not her thing. Nor were they Tom’s, honestly. However, an event this important must be attended. The fact that Halloween fell near a New Moon this year was fortunate. He’d be at his calmest then. He would also be at his physical weakest. Tom had a clearer head during those times, though, and it was then that people remembered that Tom was dangerous long before he howled at the moon. He smiled slightly as he considered whether or not Victor would attend. He would likely come up with a reason not to. But maybe not this time. Tom pulled his vehicle to a stop at the gate where a couple of guards strode out to either side of Tom’s car. Each of them was dressed in khakis and polo shirts with the winery’s logo on the chest. To the untrained eye, they were simple security guards checking IDs and the like. Tom knew them, however. One was Strollo’s great nephew who also had a very comfortable hand on the handle of a 9mm hanging on his hip. The other was Cavalli’s nephew. He too had a confident look on his face. As he got closer, Tom could see that the young Cavalli was more cocky than confident. The exaggerated swagger and smug look on his face betrayed his arrogance. Gaspari had integrated the families together deliberately to prevent sects from forming. This young Cavalli seemed to think better of himself than he ought to. As he approached Tom’s driver-side window, he greeted Tom with a sneering, “Who are you? Winery is closed to the public.” Tom looked at the kid with a confused face. Was this kid serious? Tom never got hung up on status, but did this kid really not know who Tom Gallo was? He clearly had been living off the Cavalli name and hadn’t bothered to take his jobs seriously. Also, how did the young Strollo not know? Once quick glance in the other kid’s direction gave him his answer. A barely suppressed smirk was on young-Strollo’s face as he saw Cavalli’s arrogance present itself. Clearly, he did not care for him and was hoping to get some entertainment at young Cavalli’s expense. None of this was acceptable, and if Victor had seen it, these two would have some serious repercussions coming. A wicked grin played out across Tom’s face as he feigned scratching his face with the hand where he wore his ring denoting him as a Capo. When the Cavalli kid saw the ring, his jaw dropped as he mentally replayed every word that had come from his mouth. Tom looked the kid in the eye and inhaled as if to say something…but then shook his head in disgust and drove forward without another look at the kids. Victor had some teaching to tend to it seemed. Tom pulled up to the large building that had once been a public restaurant when the winery was open…and now it was where Victor took up residence and conducted business. Before Tom stepped out of the vehicle, multiple people streamed out of the building to see to it that Tom’s needs were taken care of. Apparently, the guards had radioed ahead with the news of the botched introduction. Wordlessly, Tom handed his keys to one of them, and held his jacket open to denote no weapons. None of those workers dared touch him at this point, however Tom still followed the rules. As he strode through the doors, Victor was emerging from behind his desk in greeting. “Tom, good to see you. Come and sit.” Victor greeted him while motioning to a restaurant style table that already had glasses of wine poured. Tom grasped the man’s hand in greeting, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Good to see you as well, friend.” Tom sat down at the table as Victor sat opposite him. “The Cavalli kid needs to be doing something else. He didn’t recognize me until he saw the ring. The Strollo kid with him let the arrogant kid walk right into the trap. You may wish to separate them unless you want them to hurt each other.” Tom loved that he didn’t have to navigate through minutes of pleasantries when dealing with Victor. They could talk about what they wanted to talk about without having to tend to each other’s sensibilities. Victor glowered briefly at Tom’s remark and shook his head. “I’m running out of suitable jobs for the Cavalli kid. Kid has nothing resembling humility within him. Maybe the Strollo kid will help him learn to fake humility eventually. They’ll either kill each other or make each other better. I’m fine with either.” Tom nodded. Victor wasn’t joking. He never joked, really. It was a shame that some people could only learn sense through violence. Some could only learn that way it seemed. “I brought you something.” Tom said as he slid a bottle of near-ancient scotch across the table at Victor. Tom had been tracking that bottle down for some time now. “Hope you find this to your liking.” Victor opened the bottle and took a long whiff. Tom could smell it from where he sat. It was what Victor had wanted. Victor smiled a small smile of thanks. “You get that issue with your supply chain sorted?” It was Tom’s turn to glower. This was where Tom had to be less honest than he would like. Tom trusted Victor with more than he even trusted Matteo with…at least he was more willing to be vulnerable here at the winery than he was at club Bakkhos. “We have control of nearly everything again. There have been no reports of tainted shipments in months. Those responsible appear to have either abandoned this tactic, or are laying low to try again later.” Tom left out all the Sheut information, of course. Eris’s superior was trying to sabotage Thyrsus because he was not convinced that Eris was doing a good enough job of making a puppet out of Tom or anyone else within Bakkhos. Tom wasn’t sure if Victor knew of the Sheut, and if so, how much he knew of them. Tom was reasonably sure that Victor had encountered Mythos at one point or another…but he didn’t know if Victor understood his nature or not. Victor nodded, accepting Tom’s explanation before moving on to other business matters. Wine shipments: quantity, location, timing of deliveries, etc. As they were discussing some final details concerning which Cabernet would be introduced to Thyrsus next, Tom’s phone buzzed several times for multiple back to back calls. Tom looked up at Victor, and Victor nodded his assent and Tom opened his phone. Two missed calls. Tom’s brow quirked upwards in alarm. One from Eris and the other from Ahanu. Tom dialed his voice mail to listen to the two messages. First was from Eris. “I appreciate the Bakkhos invitation, but I will unfortunately have to decline. I wish you the best with your event.” Tom shrugged slightly. He had expected as much. Something was off. It was a bit too…polite. It was as if she were politely declining an invitation to attend an event for someone she didn’t know. His brow furrowed slightly, despite himself, as he moved on to the next message. “Mr. Gallo. Ms. London is honored to accept your invitation. Be sure to pick her up at the hangar at precisely 8pm. I will be unable to accompany her, as you know, I am attending with Roderick and will have to trust that you are grown up enough to not be late.” Tom smiled slightly as he shook his head. Clearly the two of them were not on the same page and were actively working against each other. Ahanu was an emotional mirror for Eris. If you were clever enough to observe Ahanu, you’d be able to deduce what Eris thought about a particular topic. Top hung up his phone and put it back in his pocket. “The same person has both accepted and rejected the invitation to the Masquerade.” Tom offered in explanation. “Ms. London, is that right?” Victor asked, knowingly. Darn it. Victor knew more than he let on and it was time for Tom to come clean. This was a test. Tom gave Victor a twenty-minute summary of the happenings from the Blood Moon to now. He tried to gloss over the interpersonal interactions between he and Eris, but it was clear to anyone who was listening that something was there. “Tom, you must be careful. I’ve been keeping an eye on you’re the last year or so, more than what was obvious. You are clearly deserving of your position. Your discretion and careful planning has made you an invaluable asset that even I’m not fully sure I know the entirety of. A woman such as Eris London can make your normally shrewd decision making become…less so. Do you follow?” Tom nodded. He had seen this face on Victor before. He was not looking for a verbal answer from Tom. Victor was not yet done speaking. “Based on the care with which you chose your words, you clearly know about the Sheut and Sheut-Ka.” Victor paused to allow Tom a moment to digest that Victor was on the same page. Tom was thankful for that pause. He hated playing catch-up with someone in the midst of a conversation. But this was more of a lecture than a conversation though… “The closeness with which you and Eris have worked makes it clear that you know that she is Sheut-Ka. She is also a powerful player in their organization.” Victor paused to gauge Tom’s reaction. All of this Tom knew. Victor now knew that Tom knew this as well and continued. “They seek to be puppeteers of the world, I’m told. Little fuckin’ blood suckers trying to control the world from the shadows.” There was a growl in his voice as he spit out those words. He clearly didn’t like that notion. “Most of Bakkhos doesn’t know of the Sheut, as I’m sure you are aware. But you must know that myself and the other bosses do. I would be curious to see if you knew more than me about them, but that is a conversation for another time.” Victor sipped from his wine as he watched Tom process this information. It should be more shocking, honestly to Tom. After all the secrecy and information withholding that Eris stressed, it was odd that the bosses already appeared to know as much or more than Tom did. But…it didn’t strike him as all that odd, honestly. In fact, it was oddly comforting. “Should this relationship you have with her become more personal in nature,” Victor began, “then you had best be careful.” Tom was suddenly feeling really uncomfortable about this conversation. Some mix of ‘the talk’ a boy had with their fathers about feelings and hair in weird places…and the discomfort that came from warnings of danger. “You must be prepared to defend every action you take. Cavalli and Strollo are going to be particularly interested in your activities for quite some time…especially if they start to vary from what they have come to expect from you already. Me too. I know you better than any of the other bosses. If something doesn’t smell right, I’m not going to let it go.” Tom nodded uncomfortably. He understood. Of course…Family First. Always. Then Victor’s features softened. This was less of the ‘scolding father’ from before and more of the nurturing ‘coaching father’ that Tom was one of the few to ever have the pleasure of experiencing. “If this becomes something more than professional, know this…Jacqueline would want you to be happy. You need not feel guilty about something such as that.” If that had been any other man. Any at all, Tom would have leapt over the table to enact terrible terrible violence on the man. But it was Victor. Victor knew. Victor understood. Only Victor could say these things to Tom. Tom’s chest rose and then sank as he exhaled one long breath that was nearly a roar of fury, but was instead a sigh of acceptance. Jacqueline was gone and wasn’t coming back. She would want him to be strong. Happy. Strong. Victor, sensing Tom’s demeanor, paused a moment before continuing. “You have done much to honor her memory. She didn’t need a champion as yourself to protect her image anyway. Your honor of her has only strengthened the love we all had for her.” Victor then raised a glass in salute to Tom’s late wife. “Trust me when I say that, if something comes from this, it would undoubtedly have Jacqueline’s blessing if she were able to communicate it.” Tom stared at the table for a long while. Many conflicting emotions playing out in his mind at the same time. Victor was right, of course. Jacqueline would likely chastise him for the amount of time Tom forced seclusion upon himself out of respect for her and her family. She’d tell him to quit being a baby and go out there and live the life that he still had. A small smile came to his face as he pictured her lecturing him about squandering a life she no longer had and that she’d rap him in the head with his pistol if he continued to waste opportunities to make himself, and the Family stronger. “You are right, Victor. Jacqueline would not abide me being timid about anything. But I will be cautious. You have my word.” Victor smiled over his wine glass at Tom and added, “I’m sure you will. If your relationship with Eris amounts to anything resembling the one you had with Jacqueline…the Sheut and Bakkhos would be nearly unstoppable you realize.” Tom raised an eyebrow at Victor. He was objectively correct, that was certain. But Tom didn’t like the feeling of being a chess-piece either. “I trust you will leave all of those decisions to me, Victor. Stop me if you think I’m about to do something to damage the family…but stay out of the way if it is simply ‘sacrificing potential strength’ for the family.” This wasn’t a question. It was just on this side of a request rather than an order. Tom still knew where he was. Victor locked eyes with Gallo and simply nodded. “I am not going to the costume party. Make sure you tell Gaspari, please. Tell Carducci that I haven’t decided yet.” Tom laughed out loud. Apparently they also shared the same joy out of making Matteo uncomfortable when able.
  5. Derrick Mason Gray

    Bats and Goblins and Witches... Oh My

    She listened only momentarily as he worked once more on the weapons from his hometown before going right into the order. Months now he had been working on those things, they didn’t seem to be cooperating with him. “Got everything else in stock already. The 12 gauges gonna be a bit, brass just ain’t there right now. Got someone supposed ta’ come in within the week. Gotta stop kickin' down doors with shotguns cher...” Brows quirked up over the dark shades. Not at the order being ready, she was starting to get used to him being ahead of their needs, it was why he was rapidly becoming their "favorite". Her quirk was at the latter comment. Her response fairly deadpan. Not usin' em in the city. The shotguns were out at Victor's compound in the country, protecting the vast acres of the vineyard. There had been some trouble out there lately, people trying to steal from the winery which was a walking death wish. Victor was a bit quieter than the other bosses, but it was a mistake to think him forgiving of such a transgression. A noise outside in the distance caught her attention, chin shifting towards the door as she listened a moment longer. 45… probably twelve blocks away. Nothing encroaching on the firearms shop though. ...que se passe-t-il? Huh..? She turned to "look" at him, the melodic tenor still reverberating against her eardrums, distracting her senses before she shook her head slightly and absently dropped the tidbit about the invite. She felt the air shift a moment before his scent strengthened as he leaned on the counter nearer to her. “Bakkhos… wants to invite the prince of Nola nightlife to a Masquerade?” Shoulders shrugged even as the brows furled downward. Clearly the Masquerade wasn’t on her top things in New York to do on Halloween. Lips pursed at the chuckle she hadnt heard in a long time before trying to get off topic again. …like to pick it all up in two weeks. “You need me to go with you and save you?” Brow softened as she faced him with a soft huh?.... his comment had clearly caught her off guard. Chin lowered to "stare" at the glasses he dropped onto the counter as if they were the most interesting thing in the shop. “You askin’ me on a date? I accept,” Wait…what?! His words struck a cord and her heart was pounding far too loudly in her chest. Something had just shifted in a way she was not prepared for. She was ready to vent about her indenturetude but instead she was suddenly picking apart in her head him jumping to them having a "date". “What we wearin’ to this thing anyway?” Lump in her throat was swallowed down as she scowled at him finally. Yer not actually going to go to this thing are you? There was almost a hint of anxiety in the question. I mean I am being forced to go to this thing… and in costume….. COSTUME….. There was a bit of a snarl of exasperation in her tone. I mean how the hell would I know what we are wearing to this farce?!?! There was an unconscious use of "we" that spoke volumes about her uncharacteristic closeness to the man across the counter.
  6. Eris London

    Only If

    October 29th 2022 Eris' Compound She was looking up into a light golden glow in the window through a haze of illuminated gray. Mouse had retrofitted the windows in her office with the same light shields her plane had. The girl was a genius. The effect was much like a fogged over moon in the midst of a bright night; she couldn’t quite reconcile she was actually staring at the sun through the window and not be on fire. Ahanu cleared her throat softly and the viceroy blinked out of her contemplation. *npc* Does it bother you at all? She shook her head, going back to the business on her desk, handing her assistant and bodyguard several leather folders to take care of. “Only because it seems so strange to look at after all these years. I don’t think the world realizes how disorienting it is to never see the sun. It doesn't bother me physically,” she said quietly, picking up the Bakkhos invitation in the next small stack of things she didn’t feel like taking care of. “Decline this please.” She handed it off as well. She hated parties. She hated gatherings. Fuck, she just hated people. *npc* You should go. Ahanu tossed the invitation back on the desk. “…and you should stop dating Roderick, but we can't always have everything we want can we?” Words were a bit vicious as she signed her name on a few other items and slipped them into another leather portfolio, ignoring any reaction from her associate. *npc* Maybe you’ll meet someone there too. Might chill you out a little. Lips pressed together, the viper knowing it was a fair swipe. Dark eyes looked up at her. Only here, in this space, did Ahanu ever dare question her. It was welcomed sometimes, it knocked her back out of her neverending drive when she needed it. This was one of those times. “You have every right to be happy,” she placed down the pen and leaned back in her chair, hands on the arms as one leg slid quietly over the other. “Just not at the expense of Nation security. You have to be more careful what you say. You’ve been to Glamis, you know the risks. You’ve seen what happens when we step over the line. Bakkhos is not our friend. If we are seen there, it calls into question the relationship between us and them.” *npc* In a way, that’s good… correct? You being seen there, Adrian can’t question you’ve done what they’ve expected of you. He just doesn’t realize Bakkhos also knows. Eyes fell to her desk a moment. “Being seen at Thyrsus and their clubs while repairing the fallout from the Bloodmoon was enough,” lashes flicked back up to her. “Being seen too much calls to question that it isn’t just a business relationship.” *npc* So what, Ausar doesn’t question your loyalty. “But Adrian does.” Ahanu looked at her a moment, there was more there than the Viceroy was divulging. There always was, but this was more personal. *npc* You’re concerned about retaliation from Adrian, more than just his usual bullshit. “Yes,” her voice was a bit harsh. She didn’t have to say a word for her perceptive right hand to confirm her suspicions. *npc* Why didn’t you say anything. “It wasn’t relevant.” *npc* It is now. You’re afraid he’ll fucking smash Bakkhos if he thinks you’re too attached to them. The Sheut kneaded her temples a moment. *npc* He doesn't want you associated with anyone but us... that’s why he absolutely lost his shit when he thought Reid… Eyes snapped up, the weight of their ferocity halting Ahanu’s thought in its tracks. *npc* He's treating you like property. You are the last person I ever thought would let someone screw with you like this. Take it to Ausar. “No, this is a personal matter.” *npc* Take. It. To. Ausar. “NO!” she stood, force of her hand smacking the desk making even the floor shudder. “Ausar doesn’t need to hear about our fucking personal problem!” *npc* He didn’t put you here to be micromanaged by a jealous asshole! ...wait, this isn't just about being associated and seen with Bakkhos is it? You don't want to be seen with Gallo. Ahanu glared at her with suspicious eyes, the stand off terse as the Viceroy's silence left much unanswered, but confirmed at least some points. Eris sat again, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. *npc* For god’s sake, what are you in this position for for then? Signing papers, ferrying rich people and Nation back and forth, watching over us and Bakkhos? What are you doing it for? Christ, do something for yourself for once other than buy designer shoes and sit in here by yourself. Ahanu snatched the invitation from the desk and took the other portfolios as she made her exit. The Sheut sat there a moment, eyes finally opening to look at her cell on the desk. She needed to cancel herself, in case Ahanu did something stupid. Picking it up, she dialed her favorite local stylish Were, leaving a message. “I appreciate the Bakkhos invitation, but I will unfortunately have to decline. I wish you the best with your event.” Phone snapped shut and was tossed on the desk, sliding over more business in front of her. She had quite a bit more to go, and a party wasn't in the cards... neither was making anyone a target from her presence. Bakkhos had always been a target, one she had softened the blow for considerably. Thomas, would be collateral damage if someone got irritated in the wrong way, then Bakkhos would follow and all her work and risk would have been for nothing. Protecting her motley band of outcasts from constant Nation threat was easier because they were always with her. Thomas wasn't. She couldn't protect him... but that was why she'd picked him right? Because he could protect himself? Ausar had put her there because he trusted her. Maybe it wasn't just that. Had he meant some other outcome besides stabilizing New York? She didn't fucking know, and she had other things to do than try to figure out his mind...
  7. Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick

    Not Again....

    It was a nick, but damn… right on the fucking edge of the connective tissue on his bicep. FUCK! Eyes scanned the area just in case the idjits had brought back up. That would be the most royally stupid thing to do, but hey they tried to strong-arm him. Like, jeeeeeeesh, he did have a reputation for being a little quick on the trigger and an asshole. That should mean something, right? Like, NOT shoot him for once. What the fuck were they thinking? He probably was being watched, great… he was being watched as he played with his crotch because some brute squad had given him a pinch bruise. Stupid fucks. "Hello, Altheia speaking." “Hello Miss Altheia speaking,” he charmed in his ‘I don’t want to come off as needing something but I probably am so I’m just going to hope you don’t notice’ sort of tone. “Where you at? I have beer and I’m bored.” Okay, big ass lie. He could stop and get some beer. He needed a damn beer. Shit, she could probably hear the fucking bike through the phone. His gig was up, maybe… she could probably believe he was just riding around but it was late and when was he ever just riding around late and not getting into trouble. Like… NEVER. “Okay, so I sort of got shot…” he blurted out. “Okay… I know I know, I promised I wouldn’t get shot again. I was waiting all patient-like, and this dude came in like a dufus and his muscle cocked at gun on me then I got searched and I had to headbutt the one and shoot the other…” he reached up to his forehead absently just to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. “Don’t worry, I didn’t kill anybody, but if you get someone in the hospital shot in the foot that was probably me I’m going to shut up now.” He was quiet for a moment. “Are you free? I can still bring beer. I’m shot. I’m sorry.” Throat was cleared softly. "If you're not free I'll go to the hospital."
  8. Eris London

    Sheut Happens

    “We can arrange a more lengthy, private conversation soon. If this joint-venture of ours is to be successful, then transparency is required. I understand that there are ‘need to know’ aspects of the Sheut that I’ll never need to know. The issues that impact me and my Family must be an exception.” Again came the almost imperceptible soft huff; outward discontent that most were never keen enough to notice. Her stern demeanor made people uncomfortable, and they never got close enough to notice the tiny expressions that actually gave quite an open window into her thought process sometimes. “Whatever information you are keeping from me, I have no choice but to trust your discretion for the moment. Once we have less of an audience, and less pressing matters to attend to, we will have a VERY long conversation.” “Perhaps,” she would give him at least some hope instead of turning him flat out down. She would share what she could, when she could. To do anything else would endanger both of their ventures. He would need to learn to understand that. “If you wished an audience with me, you could have done without throwing a car through my walls. Telephones still work most of the time.” The edge of her lip turned up. “We were never supposed to cross paths,” she commented quietly. "The Bloodmoon didn’t seem to care about my game plan." As she spoke of Adrian, he was honestly listening and that let a little relief into her thoughts. The Nation was a global terror, and for all she knew beyond the Nevus as well. The weight of their threat wasn’t restricted to a powerful family in New York. Gallo would, and could grow to understand that. She followed to his car, it was not in either of their best interests for her to go anywhere dressed as she was. The viceroy relied on an image as part of her safety. Eris London was not a warrior, or a fighter. She was a businesswoman and needed to look as such. “Let’s get to it then. How many fingers do mages need to do their magic? All of them? Or can the hope of saving ‘just enough’ fingers be persuasive?” Again, the quirked brow cast him a playfully annoyed glance, understanding this was for the sake of both their teams. The smirk that followed was like a cat that had eaten a canary. Another car that had been brought from the airstrip a short distance away pulled up quietly, her other was most likely being or already retrieved from where she’d had to ditch it. “I need to change, as do you. I’ll meet you there shortly,” she said quietly as her driver opened the rear door for her. “We also need to discuss where Jerry likes to call home. In the meantime, Brioni or vintage Valentino would look nice on you. I’m wearing lavender Escada. See you in thirty minutes.” The Cheshire cat grin disappeared behind the door that closed her within the dark sedan, the thought of dressing specifically to conduct this kind of cutthroat business truly in her wheelhouse. Macabre and vicious, but she wouldn't have it any other way.
  9. Josef Carroll Boudreaux

    Bats and Goblins and Witches... Oh My

    The bite of cold was starting to get to him. Being warm-blooded, even when he was gallivanting all over the world it never bothered him before. Before though, he wasn’t dealing with what the Event had done to him. It didn’t permeate to his bones like it did most, it hit his skin like an open handed smack; little needles flicking at the edges of his tolerance until he turned on his juice. During the colder months, the storefront was always unusually warm because he needed it to be to save his sanity. 'ey… He was working at his table in the corner within the “bounds” of his behind the counter-ish space when she came in. Not cut off from the public, but obviously not for customers to sit at either. Eyes were focused through special lenses clipped to his normal glasses as he worked ever so delicately at something that continued to vex him. The dueling pistols he’d brought back from his last trip. The Cajun seemed hellbent on bringing them back to life, to the end of his patience. He could fix anything, why couldn't he fix these? Glance at her over the top of the rims came only after the final turn of a screw. Paper meant an order. He’d been able to get ahead of them lately. He was always on time, but getting ahead kept the income rolling in. Need to go ahead an' order a restock…. 22s, 44s, 45s.. some more for the Mags an' 12 gauges… basic order. “Got everything else in stock already. The 12 gauges gonna be a bit, brass just ain’t there right now. Got someone supposed ta’ come in within the week. Gotta stop kickin' down doors with shotguns cher...” He placed the pistol and tool down delicately as he got up and washed his hands, pushing the glasses up on top of a mussed pile of hair that he needed to be cut. Stepping behind the counter, he picked up the paper and glanced over it, paying no mind at first to the other scribblings. Brow cocked slightly when he took a closer look. ...que se passe-t-il? The words were muttered under his breath, eyes flicking to her a moment. ..an' you are invited to this thing…. Expression quirked upward, skeptical at the invitation. Bakkhos inviting him to a party? He folded the other paper into the back pocket of his dark charcoal Chinos before leaning both elbows on the glass counter across from her, flicking the invitation between his fingers. “Bakkhos… wants to invite the prince of Nola nightlife to a Masquerade?” The chuckle was genuinely amused, mischievous almost. He tossed it on the counter softly as he straightened and took a long drink of warm water from a coffee cup. The magus was burning through water trying to keep himself on the warm side. Dehydration was a risk when he did it, every time. … like to pick it all up in two weeks. Keen eyes had picked up the annoyance with either the invitation for him, or the party itself, or the fact that he was pretty sure she was being forced to attend. The masquerades he knew, were probably not what she was envisioning this debacle to be. It was almost too tempting. “You need me to go with you and save you?” he pulled the glasses smoothly from his hair and clinked them on the counter. He’d read the note, on the note... an almost invisible scribble of cursive. It wasn’t all bullets and brawn orders. The quiet, fashionable and reserved Southerner was all she knew. A party. Hell, that was too good to pass up. She might not like what she saw of him at a party, he could be and always was the center of attention. His own lips pursed a moment. “You askin’ me on a date? I accept,” side of his lip curled into a wickedly amused smirk as he leaned back on the counter with both elbows to pick up the invitation again. For the first time in a long time, the sly easiness had worked its way back into his words. “What we wearin’ to this thing anyway?” She was either going to slug him, tell him to fuck off, or… yah, he was going to get told to fuck off.
  10. Home - Availability - Advertising Pern is no longer what it once was. Covered in ice and snow, the Northern continent has been plunged into an eternal night. Only one hold remains, in the grip of it's council of Watchers, Nerat stands tall and proud, alone. Lead by it's founding family, and supported by the descendants of the Lords of other Holds, Nerat has survived the changes to Pern. Some might say it has even thrived; with over-population soon to be a problem once more just over 100 turns since the last expansion. With over population, though, comes a large divide between wealth and poverty; many of Nerat's people live a short life; with no education, and poorly paying jobs. Those that are lucky enough to buy their way into a craft have to survive long enough to make money from their craft. And those who go into the Hand are forcing any descendants they may have to share their fate. For the wealthy, life is good. Cheap labour, warm homes and plenty of food and wine to warm their bellies. For many, the wealth is hereditary, and crafts are picked up only if a person is bored. For the Watchers, life is politics - trying to keep one's station without being poisoned, assassinated, or married off to another Watcher's family is difficult. Trying to do what is best for the people of Nerat even more so. Some say that the only Watcher than matters is Lady Nerat, that the others are just for the illusion of a fair society. They wouldn't be far wrong. And where are the dragons? Beyond the Wall of Nerat, living in small groups of twos and threes, living a life on the run from Nerat's Dragonhunters. Far have they fallen; the once heroes of Pern now reduced to begging for scraps or raiding the Free Folk they share the rest of the North with. Their past long forgotten by Nerat Hold; tales of their evil deeds becoming fact, and even a religion. Just 600 turns since the end of Thread, and their world has turned on it's head. But on the horizon, among the stars and the ever changing light of the Last Dragon Song, a familiar enemy begins to rise. Perhaps it isn't a coincidence that the Free Folk are starting to make one of the old Weyr's their home. Perhaps it isn't a coincidence that Lady Nerat no longer sleeps soundly in her bed. Will Pern survive their enemy's return? Welcome to Lost Light Pern, a place set centuries after the presumed destruction of Thread and the fall of Dragon Kind. We're a soon to be opened site that is technically a reboot of Lost Light Weyr from 2015. We loved the site and setting (and members!) so much that we've wanted to give it another go for a little while - and now things are settled, we're raring to go! But instead of just rebooting the site, we've done a few revamps! If you're an old member, you will especially want to check out the New History, the Updates Rules and everything else! If you're a new member, we hope you find our concept interesting! We welcome all levels of role play here, from beginners to experts. If you've never played Pern before, don't worry! We're here to answer your questions as quickly as time allows. What we offer: - A very AU Pern that is very different to the one you know and love. - A chance for everyone to play a character of rank! We have ten Watcher families available for play, and Watcher Nerat's family is almost completely adoptable! Will you become heir to Nerat? - We have Dragons! They will be joining up with Lost Light Weyr very soon, and it will be the first time such a big group has gotten to live together in centuries! The colour of your dragon no longer matters as much as your abilities - who will be the next rising star? - We have Whers! This group will be standalone to begin with, causing chaos around Nerat Hold. Will they join up with the Nerati, or will they terrorise them? - We will have firelizards! Every new member will be able to have a firelizard rolled for them in this first clutch. Every old member gets to choose one character from a previous site to be redesigned as a firelizard! - We will have Akillim! A past favorite will be returning in the form of our furry otter-lizards! Soon to be hatching in a clutch near you! - Politics abound; join us and shape the future of Pern! - Non-gender, non-sexuality based Impressions. Anyone can bond to any colour!
  11. Posties today! Masqueraaaaaade!!

    1. Zeph


      Thank Goodness! was getting worried Matteo was going to have to start playing with himself :P

  12. Matteo Carducci

    MASQUERADE - DEC 10, 2022

    The devil's skull turned to watch the latest New York elite enter the club, the sultry amber brown eyes glistening inside the hollowed out bone, surrounding skin charcoaled to complete the effect. Grin hid behind the pointed teeth. The club looked amazingly spooky, yet elegant, the liquor was almost overstocked and people were clamoring to get in. Considering the short notice Gaspari had given for this exclusive event, the family had pulled off one hell of a party. Supple leather brushed against his calves as he turned to the bar, sliding the short glass of dark amber that had been poured for him by a female "fawn", Sophia's costume impeccably perfect as she winked at him. Not everyone had recognized yet the Senior Capo but Sophia had shared his bed more than once and recognized the strong hands immediately, not to mention the ring that denoted his status in the family. Glass trailed at his side, hung deftly from fingertips as he wandered through the crowd that was slowly swelling into a good time. Wind caught the tails of the ebony silk scarf around his neck, billowing it up and back against the silk covered chest as he stepped out onto the massive balcony. Not many patrons had wandered onto the deck yet, likely concerned for the cold, but soon those who braved it discovered the two massive roaring fires were flooding the space in heat and the spooky décor only made the city skyline more dramatic from the glass railings. Ok…. So maybe this wasn’t such an insane idea.. Quiet words spoke to the silver feline masked figure at the rail whose velvet plum suit heralded something from old time New Orleans. Gaspari's laughter behind his own mask was too much and the Capo had to break into a wide grin behind the bones. So.. you admit that sometimes I actually know what I am doing… I wouldn’t go that far.... The laughter was clear in the tone as he raised his glass to the head of the family and moved back to the doors to mingle. Scattered among the revelers were far more family muscle than anyone could have imagined, blending in with such ease that they could not be picked out from the average elitist who had come out of pure curiosity. No chance was being taken that this would be more than a good time for all. There was something oddly relaxing in that fact. Thumb lightly pressed under the chin of the mask, lifting it barely more than an inch for the strong jaw to be exposed, lips still half smirked as the glass came up to bathe them with the heat it held. Index finger slid over the chin again, dropping it back in place as he surveyed the entire club. There were a few family members still missing that he was quite curious to see in their party "finery". Yep… was going to be an interesting night.
  13. Altheia Martin

    Not Again....

    The hospital had always been somewhat of a safe haven for her. Granted for most people it was a place that they didn't want to go to. More so for those who were in dire need of healing and medical attention. To Altheia it was the one place where she knew with out a doubt that she could help people that were in need of it. 90 percent of the time anyone who came through those ER doors were innocents that had either been caught in crossfire or had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was never any drama at the hospital. Unless you wanted to count the love affairs that would happen every few months or so. None of which she was even remotely interested in being apart of. Never mix work and love, she thought. The day had ended with her heading home after healing only a total of 3 people during the day. It had been somewhat of a quiet one. These were the days she was thankful for. It meant that she still had enough energy to actually do other things than just plop down on her bed and pass out. Instead of going straight to her room to get her warm pj's on she opted to go into her living room and turn on the TV to channel surf for about an hour. It was something she usually didn't do, but she found that she was getting tired of her same routine day in and day out. I mean she knew she had a knack for getting involved in some not so boring events, but for the most part her life was completely and utterly boring. Dinner was decided on some Ramen with slices of chicken added in. As well as various other spices. Her phone sat on her table as she took a small bit of her food. She always kept her phone out and on because she never knew when she was going to get a call. The buzz and ringtone blared at her as she began to take another bit. Well would ya look at that, she thought. She lifted up the phone and saw a number that she didn't quite recognize, but she picked it up and answered, "Hello, Altheia speaking." She brought up another bite of her food as she waited for the person on the other end to speak. For some reason she had a feeling it was someone that was going to need her healing abilities. Looks like I'm in for a long night, she thought.
  14. [align=center]] London. Present day. Monsters are real. Get used to it. It's been twenty years since the British Government came forward with the announcement that Vampires, and various other supernatural critters existed and granted vampires, the same rights as humans. It's been 15 years since the government passed the Lycanthropy Disease Prevention bill, disallowing equal rights for were-creatures (under the guise of environmental health and human health care) and creating further hatred toward them. Not much has changed. London never sleeps. The central hub within the UK for all things supernatural, it is home to one of the largest Vampire Clutches in the world. An active bustling city, with only one downfall. It has the highest rate of missing persons in the world. So, come and visit London. You may get eaten..or vanish. Be sure to send your loved ones a post card. Welcome to Dark & Deadly. We are an R rated, Jcink Premium supernatural creatures role play, based in London. Inspired by various mythologies, we have various creatures to choose from. An open sandbox setting, which welcomes player driven plots. Opened October 2019[/align]
  15. Thomas Gallo

    Sheut Happens

    “I won’t be asking questions, if I can help it." Tom doubted that. Despite Eris’s façade of ‘I know what is happening all the time…’ Tom knew she had questions. She had better info than Tom, certainly, but she didn’t know everything. There was only one scenario where she did know everything…and that would be bloody. Tom didn’t suspect her of trying to manipulate him. Or…if she was trying…Tom was confident that she had given up on that by now. No doubt that Eris had come across equally strong adversaries before…passionately fighting against her. Tom doubted that there were many in her life as strong as she was…who simply didn’t budge. Didn’t push back, but didn’t budge either. Tom was a levy wall to her flood of fury. A small smile crept across Tom’s face at the thought. Tom almost chuckled at Eris’s derisive snort as she glanced at the movement of their teams. Tom spared a glance out towards the work their teams were doing. Roderick directing traffic from the middle, issuing direction to someone on the phone as well as several others scattered about the warehouse. Tom noticed a change in their collective behavior. They were moving with their normal efficiency that Tom had grown accustomed to. The introduction of Eris’s team out in the open with Tom’s changed the demeanor…momentarily. Seeing Tom and Eris face to face put the teams at ease with one another and business continued as normal. Everything was weird in this post-Resonance world…which meant nothing was. When Tom and Eris stepped aside to speak ‘privately’ while remaining in full view of the teams shuffling about…something changed. Tom smelled apprehension, tension, fear. It wasn’t exactly smell…like how flavor isn’t just taste or smell…but a combination of senses that communicated what Tom was perceiving. Nervous glances cast in their direction by the workers…their quickened pace of work…and like a tide receding with the moon…calm returned to them, and they began working ‘normally.’ “I say as much as I can. For now.” Tom heard her words, but he was distracted by this phenomenon. He had only seen such wide scale mood shifts in the other direction. Whipping a mostly quiet group into a frenzied mob was something that took skill, granted, but could be done without too much difficulty. This was the opposite. The beast within Tom’s mind-prison was pounding at the door again at the…flavor of fear from so many nearby. Even the beast seemed confused by the sudden recession of nervousness that was replaced by calm. An artificial calm that Tom was keenly familiar with. Tom studied Roderick more closely this time. He held a clipboard in one hand, but didn’t look at it. He had a phone in his ear and was talking, but not consistently. Clever man. He had never known Roderick to affect more than two or three people at once. He was broadcasting an aura of calmness. Tom was proud. He would have to do something special for him soon. But for now…other matters required his attention. “We can arrange a more lengthy, private conversation soon. If this joint-venture of ours is to be successful, then transparency is required. I understand that there are ‘need to know’ aspects of the Sheut that I’ll never need to know. The issues that impact me and my Family must be an exception.” Tom said in a low, steady voice. This was not an issue of passion…his statement wasn’t anyway. It was simple truth. Tom had no ambition to leverage his connection to Eris to get a leg up on the Sheut. Tom was a fierce protector, not a tyrannical conqueror. “Whatever information you are keeping from me, I have no choice but to trust your discretion for the moment. Once we have less of an audience, and less pressing matters to attend to, we will have a VERY long conversation.” “That isn’t a name to be spoken lightly. The Nation isn’t all vampire, but he just happens to be one and we have weaknesses. If he’s involved, you have to be prepared to exploit it to defend your family. You’re the strongest.” Tom looked down towards the diminutive viper. She was behaving differently. Distrustful defense wavering somewhat. Maybe Tom was getting through to her. What did she mean by him being the strongest? Tom had no doubt that Gaspari would captain Bakkhos unchallenged for a long time yet. “That’s why I picked you,” Tom’s eyes hardened, as he listened. He knew this was getting very serious. He allowed some mirth into his voice when he replied, “If you wished an audience with me, you could have done without throwing a car through my walls. Telephones still work most of the time.” “Adrian is a powerful telepath, he will provoke you, make you see and feel things that aren’t there. Roderick can’t stop him. Betrayal isn’t taken lightly, and if someone bests his efforts to screw with you he’ll retaliate.” Tom nodded as Eris spoke. For Eris to speak of someone this way meant they must be quite powerful indeed. Adrian was a telepath, was he? That was inconvenient. Tom could not risk coming face to face with him unexpectedly. Tom was afraid of encountering someone who could deliberately cause him to lose control. When Tom had heard about the Blood Moon, he was never more relieved in his life. The idea of losing control of himself is what he hated most about the Beast within. If Adrian could summon the beast from him…then Tom was in trouble. Sound advice from Eris. “If I’m compromised, you trust one person. The main building of New York ER has an employee named Maree. Find her, tell her you need my brother. He’ll find you and he'll protect you.” Tom studied her for a moment. He understood her better, finally. She was relaying as much information as she could as safely as she could. Seemingly. He wanted to press her about her ‘brother’ and Maree…but that would have to wait. If worse came to worse, he’d know who to look for and where at least. Tom wondered how little she knew of Bakkhos capabilities, or how little Tom know about Sheut’s. She made it seem like it was a David and Goliath type situation. Tom wasn’t so sure he believed her. But he couldn’t quite doubt her either. Tom nodded solemnly in agreement with her direction. “Wager accepted. If you can get anything out of him at all… which you won't...” Tom allowed a solemn grin. There was serious work ahead, but he could allow himself to take the simple joys while they were about it. He began striding out toward where his car was parked, after gesturing for Eris to move that way. “Let’s get to it then. How many fingers do mages need to do their magic? All of them? Or can the hope of saving ‘just enough’ fingers be persuasive?” Tom laughed out loud now, in full view of both of their teams. This was genuine, but deliberate. Everything was chaotic and nearly out of control. But Tom…Tom Gallo…was guffawing out in the open with Eris London. It was too late to keep their relationship clandestine. The ripples in the rumor-sea would be amusing to observe in the coming weeks. But for now, they had a conversation to get to.
  16. Eris London

    Sheut Happens

    “Great. She can focus on keeping him from doing anything unwise while you and I speak with him.” If she could be more still, it really wasn’t possible… the last chains of control before she launched at him to strangle him senseless. Eyes cast casually over to him and then back at the activity. Strangling sounded good at that moment, the internal fantasy kept under wraps with an emotionless façade. “I have my questions, but I’m sure you have your own. I have learned that me killing him may invite more trouble from the Sheut than I’m willing to deal with at present…at least now. You are uniquely qualified to ask the right questions along those lines.” He’d learned. Ahanu thought she was working in her best interests by speaking frankly with Bakkhos? What the hell else was she spilling? This Roderick fling thing had to end, NOW. Granted, she could have been flattered the woman was confiding in Gallo about the risks, but that was how information crossed lines it shouldn’t be crossing… if the Nation wanted people killed they didn’t stop to sort it out. She’d just put them all in danger with her good intentions, she knew better than that. Did she think the Viceroy was getting soft? “I won’t be asking questions,” the comment was dry. "If I can help it." It wasn’t exactly the truth; it should have ended with ‘on your property’. As far as she was concerned, this was going to be played like Bakkhos stumbled across this mess on their own and she was pulled in to clean it up before Sheut secrets were spilled. “But he came at me directly. That is why I am controlling his containment.” Because she was allowing it, against her better judgement, but it was going to work out for the best. She openly ignored the glowering grouchy wolf, her instincts were not the more human ones. Aloof and non-confrontational, the lack of recognition kept the buzzing challenge neutral, at last for the time being. Two alphas in one room was making for some nervous employees. She could see it in their glances. “You know more than you say.” Soft snort exhaled from her nostrils, eyes narrowing slightly at her people as he continued. “That is given. But you don’t say as much as you should. If you haven’t figured it out yet, you will learn soon enough. I will not betray you and your confidence. I will keep the Sheut a secret. I will keep the Sheut-Ka a secret. You have provided information which I have found useful. I appreciate it. But if you are holding back based on distrust or seeking to maintain some sort of leverage…then we have a new problem to discuss.” She didn’t need to know this, she knew he would. The limited information she decided to share seemed to satiate his curiosity for now, his grin bringing a softer set to her features. “I say as much as I can,” voice was incredibly quiet. It was clearly evident there was more. Infinitely more. “For now.” “I’ll wager a case of whatever you like against a plane ride at my whim that I can get more info out of Jerry than you can. I’ll have him betray…Adrian was it? By the time I get to the second knuckle of the second finger.” Brow cocked, the amused glance in his direction giving the wager some honest to goodness thought. It was the second part that bothered her. Ahanu could take the two out if they spilled too much, and the Viceroy would take the hit from higher up if push came to shove. Ahanu was just following her orders, so she was safe. Herself being there presented a greater problem, it meant she knew and allowed a potential Sheut Nation member to be taken into custody by an organization that wasn’t quite yet in the loop. If it went well, it had the potential to cement Bakkhos autonomy. If not, and Adrian was involved, she was going to answer for it alone. Gallo had put her in more danger than he could ever realize. Whatever happened, in the end though… her will was done. Bakkhos now knew the Nation existed, they knew they were trying to infiltrate the organization by any means necessary, and they would take steps to prevent it. She’d effectively collapsed any ability of the Nation to burrow into Bakkhos. Tom knew, and that was enough. It felt so twisted up. She would never betray the Nation, those that had pulled her from death she’d in turn saved from the ashes. They’d repaid her in kind and their loyalty went beyond blood. It was everyone else and the bureaucracy that got in the way. She was loyal to Ausar and his kin. Forever. The rest, were back stabbing snipes. She bent a knee to Ausar and only Ausar and would protect him, Mouse, Toby and Ahanu with her life. It seemed Gallo had wiggled his way into that position too somehow. Fuck it all. “That isn’t a name to be spoken lightly,” she said quietly. “The Nation isn’t all vampire, but he just happens to be one and we have weaknesses. If he’s involved, you have to be prepared to exploit it to defend your family. You’re the strongest.” Eyes that normally were so full of mirth glanced up at him and were very, very bare. It was the first time she’d allowed him to see anything but the façade. She seemed almost, human. “That’s why I picked you,” she nodded in slight concession. “That and your fashion sense. Adrian is a powerful telepath, he will provoke you, make you see and feel things that aren’t there. Roderick can’t stop him. Betrayal isn’t taken lightly, and if someone bests his efforts to screw with you he’ll retaliate.” Brow furled, the candid expression still on him, “this, and anything from here forward has the potential to go extremely sideways. You’re neck deep in it now Thomas. If I’m compromised, you trust one person. The main building of New York ER has an employee named Maree. Find her, tell her you need my brother. He’ll find you and he'll protect you.” Attention went back to the activity. “Wager accepted,” she cleared her throat quietly, grin ever slight. “If you can get anything out of him at all… which you won't...”
  17. Derrick Mason Gray

    Bats and Goblins and Witches... Oh My

    October 25, 2022; 3pm Normally a formal visit was accompanied by a fitted suit and a dark sedan outside that had driven her. But their encounters had taken a certain edge of the formality that she justified to Gaspari by explaining that formal in this area actually drew too much attention to her and by association then, Bakkhos. Black jeans clung to the long thighs as she strode to the firearms shop, the dark leather boots barely sounding as they struck the sidewalk. Like nearly everything she owned, the heather gray sweater that hung loose over her powerful lean frame was incredibly soft to avoid over stimulating her sensitive skin in the cooling New York weather. Reaching for the door, her other hand ran over the top of her head, long mahogany strands sliding back over her shoulders to drape down her back. She had forgotten a damn tie. Dark shades surveyed the shop, no one here but him, a fact disclosed by her sensitive ears not any forced inner sight. 'ey… The casual address was accompanied by a sheet of paper pulled from her left front pocket. Laying it on the counter she leaned a hip against the case. He had been in a fair funk pretty much since he had returned from New Orleans but that wasn’t the source of her curt behavior now. Need to go ahead an' order a restock…. 22s, 44s, 45s.. some more for the Mags an' 12 gauges… basic order. There was a distinct lack of the normal pleasantries she usually exchanged with him. Her annoyance at something was more than a bit transparent as the right hand slid into her back right pocket to pull out a black and gold envelope that held a faint curve now from her right cheek pinning it between itself and the jean pocket's grasp. The formal invite was tossed a bit carelessly onto the counter with a shrug. ..an' you are invited to this thing…. Lips puckered ever so slightly as she seemed to ponder what to say next, finally deciding on simply… … like to pick it all up in two weeks. The topic change was a bit too abrupt, her annoyance clearly more tied to the fancy envelope than the order being made of him.
  18. Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick

    Not Again....

    Butcher Shop Meet-Up, after hours 11pm Snickers were great. Snickers were FUCKING great! Hulk of a man was leaning against a stainless steel prep table, battered Tims crossed at the ankles as he waited in the cold, munching on the Snickers he'd pilfered from piece of crap party store before finding his way to the meet-up. Smelled like blood, of course... duh. Not so much in the cooler. Why the cooler? Because that's where all the stupid asses wanted to meet and pretend to play mob. So he waited, ate his Snickers and dropped the wrapper into a trash can full of... who the fuck knew? The floor had pooled blood on it in various places, could have been anything. Hand slid into the inner coat pocket of his leather motocross jacket, a few envelopes he'd snagged from his actual LEGIT business before he'd headed over to do Pharos stuff. Accountant, square suit and tie bullshit. One from Bakkhos. Had to be. As much as the group was straight laced and proper on the outside, it was always a TRAP! Fuckers. Thumb pried at the prissy pants envelope, ripping the flap open. An honest to god fucking invite to...? "Crazy bastards," he muttered, stuffing it back into his pocket and looking at the other one. A report from another client. Stupid idiot didn't know his ass from his elbow. The click wasn't unexpected. Dealing in shadowy places after hours was never something for the meek. Sigh was slow, taking one last look at the paper before folding it and stuffing it back into his inner pocket with the other. "This place stinks, can we get this done?" Another click. Really... Hands went up lazily as he pushed off the prep counter and faced his "dealers". A girl this time, peachy. They were worse than dudes. Tended to be more aggressive because they weren't in a dick measuring contest. They just fucked you up instead. Hm. The invite did say plus one. She was cute... in a "I'm going to fucking kill you" sort of way. *npc* Search him. HEY HEY NOW! Now he needed to ask her on a date because she knew what religion he was... incredulous expression in her direction was rare for him. She'd just groped his ass. The fuck?? "Fuck this," it was rare his temper flared, but her pinchy pinch business to find a gun HURT. "No weapons, that was the deal. You broke it first, I'm out." Muzzle was placed against his temple. "You don't want to do that," dark eyes had trained on the jackass calling the shots. Little spit of a man in his overcoat. "You got balls enough to put a gun to my head, I'll kick your ass just the same....girl or not." Why were people always so fucking PREDICTABLE! He was a fast motherfucker, barrel of the woman's gun grabbed as he pulled her toward him and gave her a vicious headbutt. She was down for the count, now he and Dr. Evil were pointing a gun at each other.., this wasn't going to go well. So he just shrugged and shot him in the foot. The guy squealed but still managed to get a shot off that grazed the Pharos' bicep. DICK! "YOU ASSHOLE!" finger tugged at the slice in his leather. Okay, so maybe it wasn't just a graze. "You fucking SHOT me!" Both weapons were secured, taken apart, throwing all the pieces in random directions. Prissy gun shit. Shotguns... that was where it was at. "Dick," he muttered, pushing through the stupid plastic flappy things to make his way outside. Belt slid out with a sizzled snap and he wrapped it around his arm, pulling it tight. Bike roared to life, phone already on his ear as he pulled at the crotch of his jeans. "Dumb bitch pinched my nads..." mutter was irritated as the phone rang. "Please pick up Altheia..." he had another meet-up tonight and didn't want to be bleeding for that one. But, it was late... and she was Altheia. And... Altheia was like apple pie, she was probably in slippers and snuggled on a warm couch with infinite comfort items while his ass was getting shot in a stupid stinky cooler. He really had to get another job.
  20. Site Event

    MASQUERADE - DEC 10, 2022

    DECEMBER 10, 2022; 8:15pm Open to all; VIP would be those of higher power or who are "close" to Bakkhos, Guests can be anyone else! Posting Order: Chaos Order, ie you dont have to wait for an order of posts before you can repost, just for the ones you are interacting with directly Once the elevator opens, guests are greeted by two black velvet roped lines, crystal snowflakes strategically placed along its sweeping curves as wreathes encircling glass containers line the hallway, glimmering with the flicker of candles inside. The wider line has a beautiful sign marked "Invitation Only Line", the second line, nearly as nice, has a matching sign marked "Open Public". The invitations had gone out a week ago with no advertising to the general public. This gave priority to their VIP list of guests, allowing them time to plan for the night. The advertisement had only gone out yesterday. This had been strategic, it meant many would not see it and therefore they would not be flooded with a hoard of thousands vying for the 30 spots that were open to first come first serve general public. The club wasn’t a warehouse, it only held so many comfortably and Gaspari was not about to throw a fancy party where people couldn’t breathe walking through the crowd. As always every patron both VIP and guest are checked for weapons before they enter by the two bouncers at the door, their black suits decorated only by a lace mask over the eyes to hint that there was something special going on inside. The low lights of the club flicker with candlelight as crystal icicles and white snowflakes drip from the ebony ceiling. Downy white fluff drapes like snow delicately over the backs of ebony leather couches and around beautiful trees lit in small white lights, the only decorations on them are simple glass balls and white icicles that seem to shimmer through the club as music thrums through the air. The outdoor patio has the large fireplaces roaring to bath it in warmth, the hottubs inside filled with several patrons who keep their masks on, enjoying the voyeur nature of it all. Throughout the club the attendees wear a full range of basic elegant cocktail wear with a masquerade mask to full Venetian masquerade costumes and everything in between. The night's host mingles among the guests almost invisibly, only the family knowing which one he is, behind the metal feline mask that completely covers his features, deep purple tails and cane completing the old world masquerade charm.
  21. Matteo Carducci

    Double..double.. toil and trouble... fire burn and cauldron bubble...

    Tom was enjoying this far too much, a smirk of "disapproval" was tossed at the big lug that said the Senior Capo wasn’t really pissed. This would be a nightmare to coordinate. Tom acquiesced to getting Victor into the loop on what was going on which was a relief. The Boss had an aversion to phones which meant one usually had to head all the way upstate to the winery to meet with him, a trek the Capo wasn’t really fond of making when he had so much to oversee here. Not to mention that the gruff boss had a tendency to look at him like he was lunch. "I'll go talk to him. I found a bottle of scotch he'd been looking for for quite a while now. I'll take it to him and bring this up too." Nod was thoughtful, already starting to tick off a checklist they would need to start working quickly when the realization it was potentially going to require them to not only attend but dress up sidetracked his meticulous organization. Wait… Masquerade..? You don’t mean we gotta dress for this thing do we? "Maybe we can have you dress as one of your lady-friends. I think we could find a cocktail dress about your size." Brow quirked at the man before quipping back. …and I a cute kitty one with fuzzy ears an' tail for ya. Lycan nature was not sacred to the Capo… he treated the man like any other, refusing to pussyfoot around his infected nature. A grin got broader as a wicked thought flittered across his brow. Dark mischievous eyes slid to Gaspari. ....ya gonna have Derrick bodyguardin' for it? There were several wide-eyed expressions around the room as everyone looked at Gaspari. …of course. The Capo couldn’t help it, laughter bubbled up to roar contagiously. She was going to be pissed as hell if the Head of the family made her dress up and from the grin on Gaspari's face he fully intended to insist on it. To see that alone was enough to change his mind about getting gussied up for this thing. Gaspari be lucky the pitbull didn’t turn on him. As the laugher died finally in his chest he stifled another chuckle getting back to business. Ya got a list for the VIP invites?., can start getting' those out immediately. With that the group quickly got to dividing tasks amongst themselves. It was going to be a busy couple weeks.
  22. Thomas Gallo

    Sheut Happens

    Tom watched Eris as she was settling…suppressing her frustration. Her anger. Her rage. The quickening heartrate…the increased intensity in her eyes…Eris was livid. Good. Then maybe she’d understand him better and cooperate instead of dangling tiny morsels of information when it was convenient. The stakes were getting higher. He needed a partner, not a benefactor. “She’s yours.” She didn’t mean it. Not in the purest form anyhow. Ahanu would be an agent. A resource who would fulfill the job Tom needed, but only just. Her primary mission would be intel for Eris. Tom could not afford to have her split her attention when dealing with Jerry. He needed her focused entirely on containing the magus. Nothing else. Tom and Eris shared the same disdain for uncertainty. “Great. She can focus on keeping him from doing anything unwise while you and I speak with him.” If Eris was in the room too, then there was no need for Ahanu to take notes. Tom could see how much she hated conceding anything to Tom without having her hand in it and was settling for a proxy with Ahanu. So why not invite her as well? Although Tom’s tone made it seem more like a foregone conclusion rather than an invitation. “I have my questions, but I’m sure you have your own. I have learned that me killing him may invite more trouble from the Sheut than I’m willing to deal with at present…at least now. You are uniquely qualified to ask the right questions along those lines.” It was simple truth and most of Tom’s motivation was based purely on that logic. He and Eris understood each other enough by now that any breath spent trying to spin it as ‘reciprocal courtesy’ or other nonsense would be wasted. They both had the same, or at least adjacent, interests regarding this. No sense wasting time. “But he came at me directly. That is why I am controlling his containment.” This wasn’t a bold proclamation of a braggart. Tom was simply cluing Eris in to the contents of the script. It was inevitable, it just hadn’t happened yet. "Fraction of information keeps you alive." Tom glowered openly at this point. The beast was seething from within its containment. This was not the time to play nice. Tom knew that Eris could see past his anger and not react emotionally. Tom was trusting this. It was important they understood each other fully. “You know more than you say. That is given. But you don’t say as much as you should. If you haven’t figured it out yet, you will learn soon enough. I will not betray you and your confidence. I will keep the Sheut a secret. I will keep the Sheut-Ka a secret. You have provided information which I have found useful. I appreciate it. But if you are holding back based on distrust or seeking to maintain some sort of leverage…then we have a new problem to discuss.” Tom was meant every word. He was tired of filtering information flowing out of him based on who he was speaking to. There was no peer. Sure, the other capos were family, however Bakkhos was so compartmentalized that he doubted more than 2 other capos knew what was happening with Thyrsus. Tom needed an equal with whom to speak with. "Bakkhos had no chance to remain autonomous until I stepped in. When I found out Mythos was working in your organization I was certain the Nation had already injected itself into it. Our standing orders are to infiltrate Bakkhos and puppet it from within. My work in the DEA gave me first hand experience with the effect a powerful family organization has on the wealth and lifeblood of a community, even if its methods are not always innocent. Bakkhos' survival is crucial to the recovery of the eastern seaboard. It's my territory, and I demanded the Nation leave you alone. My superior, Adrian, demanded I put people in place and run Bakkhos from the inside. As of right now his superior, the Chancellor, sides with me." This didn’t make sense. She had orders to infiltrate and puppet Bakkhos…from one, however the superior to that order-issuer decided against it? Did this make Adrian rogue or Eris? The Sheut had some not-so-subtle intentions for Bakkhos. This was more dire than someone trying to hurt Thyrsus. The long term ramifications were yet to be felt, he suspected. Tom silently cursed his promise of secrecy. As Eris continued to share suspicions about who was behind this and their potential motivations, Tom nodded along. The gaps were filling. The puzzle pieces sliding together. He just needed some confirmation from Jerry. A wicked grin crept onto his face unbeknownst to Tom. A part of him was going to enjoy getting those answers. "Anything else you're dying to know? I'm a Taurus, I hate long walks on the beach and I'm fourty three years old... not hundreds." Tom’s wicked grin slid into an amused one. “I’ll wager a case of whatever you like against a plane ride at my whim that I can get more info out of Jerry than you can.” Tom looked at Eris, smirking a challenge. “I’ll have him betray…Adrian was it? By the time I get to the second knuckle of the second finger.” Tom didn’t think Eris susceptible to goading…but he thought this would be a good enough method of reinforcing that she was to come with him to speak to Jerry.
  23. Eris London

    Sheut Happens

    After she was done speaking, the weight of his eyes felt heavy, judging. She could almost feel the thought process churning in his mind, vibrating against skin that was increasingly hyper-sensitive at this juncture. It was enough to make her snap, bared teeth held back by a slow breath and an incredible amount of self control. Vipers just wanted space when they were about to strike, and it wasn't going to happen. Eyes narrowed slightly when he took a step toward her, blinking quietly to relax when he settled in beside her. “My business is in good hands. Trevor is in one of the Conversation Rooms. Jerry will be taken to another. Unless I get another mage to help with Jerry…I may need to borrow Ahanu when it is time to chat with him.” She remained unreadable, her pulse loud in her ears. They could shake it out of Jerry right here when he woke up, she hadn't hit him that hard. The Viceroy was not pleased they were in Bakkhos' control. She wanted them in hers. IF Jerry and the Hesek were involved with the Nation in any way, and they started blabbing... information may be spilled that shouldn't be in anyone else's knowledge base but hers. She didn't like someone else having control over it. She nodded. "She's yours," her voice was quiet. Ahanu would be the perfect person to monitor that exchange, and kill them both if the need arose; whether Gallo liked it or not. The woman could do a lot of physical damage in the blink of an eye with her own two hands. As a magus, even more so. Her agreeing so easily to loan Ahanu would probably raise his suspicion of an ulterior motive. She always had one, but at this moment she didn't care what he suspected. Highly doubtful he would believe she'd give Ahanu a standing kill order if they said too much. She wasn't just protecting her ass, she was protecting Bakkhos. "How long have you been running interference against the rest of Sheut for me? How much trouble are we…in? It is time that we have a long…detailed conversation where I am informed and can assist in some decision making.” No recognition came at first, then an annoyed side-eye found its way to him as he continued. “I’m tired of acting with only a fraction of the information that SHOULD be available to me.” If Toby hadn't reappeared at that moment, she really didn't know what would have happened. He stepped next to her without hesitation, handing off a black aluminum bottle with a small click-open cap. Arms unfolded and she took it with a nod, watching him return to complete the rest of the tasks with Ahanu. Since he wanted to know secrets. Fuck it. Thumb released the trigger and she kicked it back like a simple water bottle, lashes fluttering for a brief moment as her eyes closed and she swallowed in graceful gulps. It took several moments, but was consumed completely, thumb clicking the cap back down. To any other onlooker, she'd just downed a coffee. On closer inspection, pupils had completely dilated and skin was flushing with rosy hue. Breath in and resulting sigh was long. She almost snapped him a scowl and retreated to her compound. Almost. "Fraction of information keeps you alive." Dark gaze was cast up to him as she moved to leave, pausing. Damn him. She hated people. Especially people that got under her skin. Hand slid into her pants pocket, the other holding her bottle as she watched trained people work like an oiled machine. This was not the venue she wanted to have this conversation in, but she suspected the Were' s insistance wouldn't back down. "Bakkhos had no chance to remain autonomous until I stepped in," words were extremely quiet. "When I found out Mythos was working in your organization I was certain the Nation had already injected itself into it. Our standing orders are to infiltrate Bakkhos and puppet it from within." She let that sink in. Of course, he might think this very conversation was a ploy to do just that. She didn't care. "My work in the DEA gave me first hand experience with the effect a powerful family organization has on the wealth and lifeblood of a community, even if its methods are not always innocent. Bakkhos' survival is crucial to the recovery of the eastern seaboard. It's my territory, and I demanded the Nation leave you alone. My superior, Adrian, demanded I put people in place and run Bakkhos from the inside." Arms crossed, thumb tapping on her bottle. "As of right now his superior, the Chancellor, sides with me." Eyes flicked to him. "I've been running interference for you for almost five years." Considering only a few of those years actually had her in contact with Gallo, it was a bit sobering to know they were being observed. "It's very possible this entire poison debacle is Adrian's doing, trying to undermine me and force me to put our own people in place to help you recover." The thought obviously pissed her off, the normal business expression with a very genuine look of concern. It was apparent at this point she was literally putting her neck out for Bakkhos, to what purpose other than to prove herself right was unclear. "It's possible it might not be, but it smells like his bullshit." She made no effort to sensor herself, quiet for a moment. Brow quirked, the dark humor signalling she was feeling better. "Anything else you're dying to know? I'm a Taurus, I hate long walks on the beach and I'm fourty three years old... not hundreds."
  24. Derrick Mason Gray

    Throw Me Sumthin' Mista

    He was silent a while.. thinking perhaps. “It’s a mess out there, ain’t exactly a padded highrise.” Overrated glass palaces…. There was a faint sneer in the words. She still lived in a rustic loft of an abandoned building. It had a ridiculous amount of security because Gaspari insisted, but other than the security tech, it was a fairly simple affair. She liked the quiet. For all the luxury Bakkhos could afford her, it just didn’t really suit her. He was more melancholy than before he left, the earthy whimsy was missing from his tone. “Can’t rebuild hundreds of years of a culture, People is gone. Scattered, or dead. It’s just dun gone.” You're not….. There was a tenderness in her rum rich notes that was normally absent as she traced the rim of her glass. It was conspicuously empty once more as he downed his second glass of water. As she spilled what she knew about the magus killing she could hear him pause before his glass clinked softly again on the sink. He didn’t like the answer. She couldn’t help that. It was the truth of what she had heard. He again began to work on the metal at the table, her chin resting on the arm over the back of the chair as she listened to the charms softly sway against eachother as his hands worked. “That’s a problem for me.” The answer didn’t really surprise her. She didn’t interrupt his thoughts as she could almost hear them churning. “I’m one of those deserters, Order tends ta not be pleased when you tell them to go fuck themselves.” Head tilted at his soft tone. Fear? Distress? Something more was going on here than he was letting on. Order wasn’t as powerful as they once were. They just felt more confident holding their dicks out in the open again. There had been a little friction with Bakkhos but a few disastrous encounters had warned the Order to keep their fucking distance from the growing mob family. “Go back down south and get picked off by idjits, stay here and get hooked by the Order, or… whatever else is happening that I can’t seem to figure out. Just kinda in a shitty predicament at the moment. Not sure there’s a solution yet.” Soft click of her tongue that anyone would assume was a reflex of thinking actually echoed off the table and its treasures, giving her mind's eye a map of the objects so she could reach out and grab the bottle for herself this time. She was two…three in? Didn’t matter, she wasn’t heading out any time soon, Fingers snaked over the neck to ensure there wasn’t a seal on the top before filling her glass again. Setting the bottle down, long fingers rubbed the rim of her glass as the shaded eyes "looked" at him. …..stick around…. I'll protect ya…. There was a quirk of a smile at the corner of her lips before it hid behind the glass. Dark liquid half vanished again before the glass perched against her lower lip.. rubbing thoughtfully against the natural flush. Could find ya a place to lay low if ya thinkin' shouldn’t stay here for a bit...
  25. Rorye Shannon-Kearney

    Walk It Off

    (Note to new players; all autos have been pre-approved by the writers in this thread. Please do not use this thread as a typical RP example for action/interaction) “I know. That’s why we’re here" Look toward him over her shoulder was sullen and quiet before her gaze focused on the mat again in contemplation. He didn't know what she'd done under the influence of this thing. Hell, SHE didn't know all of what she'd done. The aftermaths should have been enough to seek out someone that could rip the damn thing out. Her pride had gotten the upper hand; need to not be seen as weak by a world that kowtowed to magus let the power dig in, now unsure if it could be yanked out even if she wanted. "Not only do I expect to challenge your self-control, but I am prepared for you to lose it.” Expression was still doubtful. “Besides, I probably have a better chance than most of bringing you back if you do lose control.” Magus arrogance, it irritated something in her gut. Fingers flexed open and closed again, the gloves creaking. “Now, I have seen your technique change and I know we’re playing a more dangerous game. I’m not going to pull anymore punches. And don’t worry. If push comes to shove… I’ll knock you on your little ass.” “One of these days something is going to knock you on your cocky mage ass,” she muttered under her breath, unaware how sadly prophetic it could be. Lips pursed. Her style. That was the easy part, it was roughly trained. Her other side only had one, and it was 'anything goes' with a lot of 'watch your back'. The history books she’d investigated did not lie. She could be way off base, but everything she'd researched pointed the finger at someone terrible. Even though he thought he was prepared... damn it. His “if” was a definite if they kept going with this lesson. She wanted to hone her defensive skills; he seemed to really want to goad the full package. Fair enough, he really did have to know what he was dealing with. She had nothing to give him to go on though. She hadn’t handed over the wheel in years, and she had no clue even what to tell him to watch out for. Before? It had rolled over her like an ominous cloud, the feeling close to sliding beneath black water into silent depths where the world’s echo was audible and distorted. Nothing was tangible, and she always came to disoriented and exhausted. Now? She didn’t know. Would she stay conscious? Remember anything? Be able to spin out of it? This was not a good idea. As she unleashed again, the thought process brought irritating frustration ticking in the back of her skull, movement becoming almost without thought until a bright flash rocked her out of it. FUCK! Discontented growl snapped in her throat, shaking her head once to clear the reverberation of his well-trained cheap shot. Fucking hell. Lip rolled through her teeth, tongue lingering over it and followed up with a thumb to make sure her lip wasn’t bleeding. Thumbing it once more, a glare was shot under furled brows and she went after him again. Her muscles hurt, they were heavy. She was pushing against something, or something was pulling against her. Fatigue, second guessing… Her brain saw it coming, but did nothing as his fist connected again. No no no… Eyes caught his frown as she once more steadied her steps, wiping the blood from her nose with the back of her arm. NO! "Ryan." she said quietly, most likely unheard as he began to speak. “Is that all you’ve got? How disappointing.” Nothing else was done to stave the blood, the Grinch-like smirk responding to his taunt as she adjusted a glove for a few moments. Lost in her thoughts. He was absolutely unaware the viper was studying him. Playing him. The way he moved, his strategies, the fact he thought he was testing her. He was being strung along on purpose. Fuck! The switch used to flip heavy and sudden. Every experience thus far over the years had been brutal, violent, the hold absolutely all-encompassing as it raged out to damage anything in its path. This, was so much worse. She could feel it, and she couldn't stop it. A predator was playing with its food. Inviting the damage. Watching his expressions as he started to physically dig into his opponent, soaking up every bit of information about his movements and intentions for something Rorye could no longer head off at the pass. The thing was torturing them both. On purpose. How long had it been able to circumvent the binding? How long over these last moments had she actually not been in control? She couldn’t warn him, signal. Nothing. Words were in her head but unable to be spoken. Unimaginable fear. Panic. The thought had no sooner ripped through her consciousness when a wave fell and crushed it against a metaphysical wall, a handhold on a cliff ripping free to disorienting freefall as she was yanked under. Thoughts halted and inner voice was silenced with a silent, terrifying choke. Fist reached out to bump his again as she regained her stance. Same as before, biding time in a relentless flurry, waiting for the fraction of a second he went on the offensive thinking he could get a crack at her again. Either it was impatient at the game, or the unabashed fighter had seen everything it needed to see; the game had now changed. It's first strike was unexpected, abrupt and brutal. Fist was opened after it went in for a cruel punch to the throat and was blocked by the soldier as predicted, slipping full force along his arm to grasp a fistful of his shirt at his shoulder. Yanking forward into an awaiting knee, it immediately dropped support from her planted foot. She was taking them both down without breaking momentum. The sound of bodies hitting the mat was torturous, never pausing in the roll that felt like two snarling wolves tumbling over each other. Her foot slammed flat on the mat to instantly halt her motion in a crouch, bringing the insane level of agility taught for another strike. No further attack was sought, muscles remained hair-triggered. The killer was content to watch him for a moment, unmoving, until a blink broke the statuesque facade. She pulled away from him to a relaxed kneel. Sitting on her heels, hands fell calmly to her thighs as she waited for his next move. She was clearly done being goaded like a puppet, expression darkly amused. There would be no more effort put into fighting stances or rules. She would go for blood. “A soldier.” The single word held disapproval. "I fucking hate soldiers." Hands went up to pull the twisted bun from the back of her neck, swift fingers changing it to a tight plait and tossing it over her shoulder. It was Rorye’s voice, but wasn’t; a chilling slight distortion to the timbre. Eyes that rose to him were calm. “I suspect if I don’t heel and bark on command, she or you will get rid of me. Is that the game here? Because if that's all you got, that's very disappointing.” Sarcasm was wicked in response to his earlier words. Gaze went across his chest; she could obviously feel whatever was beneath his shirt. Irritating. It was a complicated relationship, like everything magic. Full of loopholes to exploit and bindings to slip. It was now evident the binding ring had limitations, and it very much liked being able to live and breathe on rare occasion; even taunt the soldier with information about magus blood for self preservation when it was time. It wasn't time, yet. Thumb was touching each finger discretely, having located the ring under the gloves in a matter of minutes. “Or I could just leave you flayed in the middle of the floor unless you back off, soldier.”
  26. Thomas Gallo

    Sheut Happens

    "You have a business to save, go save your business Thomas." Tom studied Eris a moment. Every logical explanation to her behavior seemed to go against what his gut…his instincts were telling him. Many would see her as impulsive, controlling, and reckless…Had Eris been anyone else, that is exactly how he would have perceived her actions. Tom knew better. She was too controlling to be impulsive. Too cunning to think she could control everything. Too careful to be considered reckless. This behavior of hers tonight was motivated by something. Something dire. Something that would make this sort of behavior an intelligent, calculated risk. Tom believed Ahanu had clued him in to this. It was time to rip off the band-aid and get down to the heart of this. Tom took a step toward Eris and pivoted so that they were both looking at the movements of their respective teams going to work fulfilling both of their desires. Tom motioned toward Roderick, who had a cellphone to his ear, speaking to someone, while pointing and waving and speaking out orders to the various workers in the warehouse. Tom allowed himself a small smile of approval. He was proud of Roderick. “My business is in good hands. Trevor is in one of the Conversation Rooms. Jerry will be taken to another. Unless I get another mage to help with Jerry…I may need to borrow Ahanu when it is time to chat with him.” Tom studied Eris as he said that. He knew that, no matter how good of a relationship the two of them may develop, Eris would never like that. Nevertheless, the need was real. His face took on a grim countenance as he looked at Eris. Time to make things uncomfortable. “How long have you been running interference against the rest of Sheut for me? How much trouble are we…” clearly referring to Eris and himself, “…in? It is time that we have a long…detailed conversation where I am informed and can assist in some decision making.” Tom glowered openly at Eris this time. It wasn’t an attempt at intimidation, nor was it intended to be manipulative. His frustration in being deliberately kept in the dark was coming to the surface. Tom believed it important that Eris knew exactly how he felt about it. Honest for honest. He was not pleased with her, the Sheut, any of it. “I’m tired of acting with only a fraction of the information that SHOULD be available to me.”
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