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  1. Today
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  4. Yesterday
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  6. "Rhyse... It's ok, you're safe here. But if we don't take a look at that leg it could get infected. Best to be sure, right?" Lower lip was chewed nervously before finally nodding as he inquired if he could use the wipe on her bleeding wound. He was right of course. She had gotten an infection once on a cut, germs here were different than on her world and she had ended up extremely ill. He was gentle….. it was strange. She hadnt had so much as a kind word since the riots had begun months ago. By now, surely he knew she was not of earth. "I should probably tell you, I don't really know what I'm doing. Normally I'd buy you a drink first…..Sorry." Brow lifted quizzically at him. He was making small talk. Customers used to do that with her all the time at her café. But that was before all this, back when she smiled back and joked with them…. When life teased of being normal. Crimson eyes watched him straighten her leg, the gauze wrapping again and again around her limb. "So no to Galway then. Do you have another destination in mind?" She was silent a while. Truth was she didn’t know how to answer that question. Did she have a destination in mind? Did she have anywhere to go? She didn’t. She hadnt had a place to go in over two months. Every "place" held people looking to extinguish her life. Why did she fight so hard for it? What was it even worth anymore in this world that didn’t want her to live? Breath sighed from her lips softly as the chin lowered, a defeat in her expression. Head shook. There is nowhere to go……nowhere safe……
  7. Last week
  8. Cleared throat behind him caused the chin to turn, dark eyes glancing before the brow lifted. Mythos. Well this was a surprise. “ Matteo, I see you've added Bartender to you're skill set. Can I hire you for my next soire?” Brow lifted higher. The Bakkhos money launderer had been on the road for nearly two years. He was well behind. Missed the hell storms…. his taking over and building out the Satyr stadium… the Winery purchasing an additional 200 acres……the Blood Moon fiasco…. the finding of radar equipment in Italy that now allowed them to more safely transport goods along their trade routes… even missed Gaspari leaving for a month tour with the "family" on the other side of the world. He had heard a rumor that the man was back but it was only yesterday heard and not yet confirmed. Now…. It seemed it was confirmed. "It would seem that I'm also early to this party. How odd. I'm never anywhere before things get going. I'll have a vodka martini good sir, and some information on what the fuck happened while I was gone. I leave on business and shit went to hell right quick. At least this place is still standing.” Now he was pushing it. Arms folded over his chest as brow quirked. Nearly wasn’t. Bottom coupl'a floors of the hotel were toast after damn Blood Moon events here… missed all the werebitch killin' Bottle of vodka was slid on the bar as was a lowball glass. ….and pour it ya damn self Vistani… this aint no caterin' hall. "Sorry man, i'm still a little upset over the damage to my place." Head shook with a shrug. Wasn’t only one…we had a few big hits…. good bit of our businesses in Queens were destroyed, includin' the liquor depot. We got family still displaced all over the city. Eyes dropped to watch the man play with the zippo. Hand ran through his hair as head shook. Shit man… why not just tattoo "Anne Rice" on ya ass. Joey was blinking at the two, uncertain what was happening. He only joined the family in the last two years so he didn’t know the stranger nor that he was Sheut so the exchange didn’t make much sense. Matteo knew him… that much was clear. ….or better yet….cover ya'self in glitter so you can sparkle under the light…. Fingers "jazz handed" on the "sparkle" in his accusation. Smirk betrayed the ribbing was not malicious, he just couldn’t help pointing out the ridiculous irony of a real Sheut running around with a cliché human symbol of vampires.
  9. The heat wave annoyed him. He could tolerate it, being on the water helped a bit, but the sun. Khakis were the only thing he could bear to put on, hair tied on top of his head in a knot. He’d tried braiding it, but the constant slide of the plait against sweating skin was irritating. Strands loose in a ponytail made him itch. It all had to be piled on top. Knees bumped the side of the hull every so often when the boat undulated under waves rifled up from incoming ships into the docks. Fresh coat of paint was almost halfway done, the boatman sitting on a suspended scaffold. It reminded him of an old rope swing, but it did the job. Forearm wiped over his cheek to rid himself of the paint spatter, resulting in more of a smear. Damn it. Eyes peering up at the late afternoon sun, it was almost time for a break anyway. He’d finish this square foot section and grab a drink. *npc* “Calder, Calder Muireadach right?” Glance cast over his shoulder. “Yah?” Demeanor was nonchalant as he continued to paint the deep blue. Of course, a man standing on a working dock in a business suit was more than alarming. Maybe he’d finally caught the attention of some shipping interests. Maybe they were there to arrest him. The guy was too pretty to be a cop. Shipping. *npc* “Do you have a moment?” “Yah.” He finished the section with a final stroke and stood up on the scaffold, hoisting himself back up to put the bucket and brushes on the deck. Unapologetic about his paint stained skin, he rifled around in his cooler for a soda and cracked it open, he loved Mountain Dew. It was harder to get than holy Hell, but damn he loved the stuff. After a long swig, he wiped the can sweat off his hand and offered it to shake. “Calder, but you already know that.” The man nodded, *npc* “Richard Stevens. You are a small freight ship.” “Yah.” Obvious. *npc* “I’ve heard you’ve been successful in runs to what’s left of Britain, tried a South American run.” “Not tried, have done. Round trip in twenty two days. Thought there might be some interest in freight transport but with air travel a bit more lucrative to South America I haven’t gotten much more response for water transport. More profitable for me to the Isles. Dragons tend to not like planes. Water seems to be the only way in and out. Not easy to fight pilots that want to fly up there.” He took another swig *npc* “Would you consider talking with my employer about a potential transport opportunity?” He shrugged slightly, money was money. A small transport? Was this a smuggling bid? It would probably piss the guy off if he said so. “As long as it’s on the up and up I’ll hear out anything that can bring in money to keep my boat painted.” The man smiled and nodded once. *npc* “Is this where we find you?” “Few more days at least, until I finish painting.” *npc* “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Muirdeach.” He nodded, watching the man walk off, finishing his soda. It wasn’t the first time he’d been approached on the dock, he had a reputation for making trips nobody else seemed to want to try. But, it didn’t always bring in the most reputable business. He was interested to see how this one played out. Tossing the can into the basket next to the cooler, he stretched a moment, then was back on the scaffold. Boat wasn’t going to paint itself.
  10. Quiet. Cold either made sounds exceptionally sharp, or muted. Tonight, the world seemed hushed… holding its breath maybe? It set off instincts that were impossible to turn off. Others may have been wary, his honed to pinpoints under the guise of apathy. Curls from a long pipe floated stark against the darkness, lighting up every so often with a glow from the lantern on the dock as the wisps passed in front of it. Lean form sat in his captain’s chair, feet crossed, watching the horizon beyond, pondering the heightened attentiveness that the quiet was pulling from his bones. People were hunting tonight. Agitated. Lips pursed in thought, a thin stream of air making the smoke dance a little faster in its light trek toward the sky. Sigh long, feet dropped to the floor and he tipped the pipe on the heavy carved stone plate, tapping out the ash and leaving it there for later. Rucksack gathered up, a few bits of dried jerky, some water in an aluminum “bottle”. There were some things in this world he thought were oddly beautiful… of course everything being a new sight to him brought a great sense of dysphoric wonder, but it was the simple things that he found so intriguing. Tiny, delicate china teacups. Porcelain figurines with fingers so slight he was afraid to touch them. Then there was his water bottle. Shiny, simple, mesmerizing. It was a stupid thing, but he thought it was oddly beautiful, devastated when it had taken a header off his table and clunked onto to the floor some time ago. The dent was now obvious; it reminded him of something he’d seen in a book… steel drum? Caribbean? Bootfalls onto the wooden dock pulled him from errant thoughts, armed in a way only he could be. He had to leave the boat to investigate what was holding everything up, raucous nightlife spilling in some places into the streets in a way only a small city could muster. New York… made everything else seem so pale in comparison. Maybe he would come back to a boarded and rustled boat, maybe not. It seemed as his face was seen around the place more often, the less they messed with him. Signal came half way to the local flophouse. Most stayed on their boats, those departing on those boats stopped here on their last night out. *npc* "Finally here, late." It was a familiar face as he stepped in and brushed the drizzle off his coat. “Dragged a wreck a mile out. Had to repair the hull. Hungry,” he muttered quietly. Always food. “Salted and dried is fine on the water, when there’s prospect of a good hot meal it makes it almost inedible.” He smiled and swung his bag off his shoulder, dropping it to the floor as he took a seat at the counter. It was a pub, straight up, no fanciness or pretentiousness about it. Dark wood, glinting bottles, worn tables. *npc* Yah, lot of people been hitting that damn cruise ship... it went down a month or so ago. Couple people tried to drag it out further before it went down. Bangers? He nodded, he'd buoy-ed it, rifling through his back pocket under the pea coat to pull out the favored currency for this part of the world. That was another annoyance. Currency. A mug of beer, hot bangers and mash with extra gravy as he waited for his contact. A heart attack waiting to happen, but what a great last meal. "Hope I didn't miss anything being late?" Or anyone? Les shook his head. *npc* "Nope, seems the night to be late." That didn't bode well. The restless feeling he'd picked up, people were definitely hunting tonight... and the rabbits were having a hard time coming out of their holes. That, he couldn't assist with. He was a courier, if they couldn't get to the rendezvous point he couldn't help that. It bothered him, but so did wandering so far away from his boat it got snagged. Maybe in time he'd build enough contacts to have someone watch the ship, for now... it was all he could do.
  11. March 22nd “ Hey…get the hell off my sister asshole” Yen heard the lady say that and felt a flush of pride and a sense of belonging. Having a sister here in NYC would be really such a wonderful thing. And having one that was a "bad ass" who could take on burly men would be just amazing. “Don know where ya all from but its not polite to grab a woman without buying a drink first. Damn your momma taught ya all no manners” Yen heard her "sister" again and just wondered where she got her strength and confidence from. Yen was then airborne. Wow! Her dark hair was hanging straight downward--gravity had that effect. The man with the tattoos had actually picked her up faster than she could blink, and had lifted her like she weighed no more than bamboo basket filled with nothing but confetti. Then, the whirlwind experience ended with her finding herself placed a safe distance from her table and from the 3 men. Catching her breath, she just watched. And what a show. Between the two of them--yes, it was two against three, with one being her new "sister", and she was as incredible as he was--they were simply destroying the annoying drunks. Yen winced as she heard and felt one most obnoxious drunk's jaw get busted. She watched the man and the woman do what she had previously only seen on a Hollywood movie set. It was actually pretty amazing. Then, she wondered if instead of just standing there and watching, she should maybe do what she was trained to do--call for help. So, that is what she was going to do, but quickly discovered she couldn't because her phone was inside her bag which was still on the table. A quick glance at the barkeep reassured her that he had already done that--called the "cops". Yen wondered what would happen if any of these people were enhanced, or had the use of magic. Yes, those old Warner movies from decades ago were today real life n this new world. The man (her hero with the tattoos) looked like he might have once been one of those super-heroes. He was quite an amazing man. Yen stopped and thought about just what she was thinking--and feeling--as she watched him.
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  13. Just as every cop is a criminal And all the sinners saints As heads is tails Just call me Lucifer 'Cause I'm in need of some restraint A smile played at the corners of his mouth as he hummed the tune and stepped from the backseat of his mercedes. Turning to Brett, Mythos raises an eyebrow at his surroundings. Had it really been two years since he'd been in New York? Sighing inward he nods to his bodygaurd and friend. “ Go back to Hush and keep an eye on things for me. I'll call when it's time for a pickup.” Turing back to the building, Mythos opens the back door adjusting the platinum cufflinks on the custom tailored hunter green shirt. He steps into the elevator and felt the vibration of the phone in his pocket. Pulling the device from his pocket he swipes the srceen to read the text message from Brett. Nodding he returned the phone to his pants pocket just as the elevator opened up and he stepped out. Seeing Matteo infront of him he clears his throat. “ Matteo, I see you've added Bartender to you're skill set. Can I hire you for my next soire?” Smirking he comes around to the front of the bar and unbottons the charcoal colored blazer and finds a seat next to the bouncer. “ It would seem that I'm also early to this party. How odd. I'm never anywhere before things get going.” Shrugging slightly he looks to Matteo again and chuckles. “ I'll have a vodka martini good sir, and some information on what the fuck happened while I was gone. I leave on buisness and shit went to hell right quick. At least this place is still standing.” Running his lithe fingers through his hair he calms a little and holds his hand up to Matteo. “ Sorry man, i'm still a little upset over the damage to my place.” The Hush club had sustained considerable damage during the bloodmoon event and had only reopened a couple of weeks ago. Standing again Mythos waits for his drink and absently fidgets with the curiously decorated zippo( Ravnos cross with a Raven perched on it) he fished from his pants pocket.
  14. On hold for Mythos
  15. When they reached Dolisie, it was almost exactly like Reid remembered. The rainforest that stood to the west of the city had crept closer, buoyed by the change in weather patterns since the event and the collapse of the logging industry. Harry enjoyed talking about this stuff, and Reid was happy to listen. The checkpoints that had littered the road on his way into Africa had long since vanished. Back then, armed police were on hand to ask for juice, which of course was just another word for a bribe. Reid had fobbed them off, volunteering to buy one on the way back. The one bright side to this whole ordeal was that he wouldn't have to make good on that promise. He chuckled, and Harry turned to look at him. It was probably the first laugh the doctor had heard pass Reid's lips. The roads inside the city were better build than the dirt tracks outside its limits, but a decade of neglect had seen cracks appear, through which sprouted the vanguard of the rainforest. In another decade this place would be more green than grey. Red taxis littered the roads, although on the bigger roads, they had been cleared aside by hand. They encountered a local moving in the opposite direction, pulling a cart behind him. He eyed them both curiously, unashamedly turning his head to watch them as they passed each other. Not much further on, a market had been set up in a square. Locals were haggling over the price of fruit, veg, clothing, and the occasional piece of salvage. Most of the salvage was still useless here, but Harry cast his eyes over what there was, deciding whether to take anything else back west. He seemed oblivious to the stares from the locals, but Reid met their eyes with his own hard stare. A polite westerner might be tempted to look away. Eye contact with a stranger was to be avoided in polite society. Reid, however, was a practical man who knew when to keep his eyes open. It was this vigilance that meant he saw the trouble coming before it arrived. Three young men with swagger in their step were walking past every other stall and coming straight towards the only two white men at the market. Harry was engrossed in what he was doing, poring over circuit boards and gadgets laid out on a sheet on the ground. Reid folded his arms and stepped between the advancing men and his travelling companion. The trio looked right at him as they closed the distance, and Reid noted that the locals were pointedly ignoring them whilst moving aside to let them through. This would be a delicate situation - he didn't want anything he did now to come back on the locals later. Too late to leave the market though. "Hey boss, you didn't buy a ticket." one said in his heavy accent. All three men were armed with assault rifles, although Reid guessed that they were just for show. One of the men stood at the speaker's shoulder, looking as mean as he could, which didn't impress Reid much. The other walked around Reid, openly examining Harry, who by this point had noted the men and stood up. Reid kept his eyes on the two in front of him. "I don't need a ticket." Reid replied. No point in playing a game here. "Boss, you do. You got to buy a ticket to come to our market." The man stepped closer, a little taller than Reid. He unshouldered his rifle, holding it with both hands. There was no ambiguity in his intentions. The locals were avoiding them, but were now watching intently. Reid looked around, ignoring the man for a moment. There were women, kids. He was caught by a moment of indecision. These could be just a few thugs looking to exploit a pair of strangers, or they could be part of some larger gang. The latter would almost certainly mean consequences for the locals once Reid had dealt with these men and moved on. On the other hand, standing up to them might show them as toothless. Problem was, he didn't know how it would play out. He'd only been in the city half an hour. So he fell back on his instinct, and in a blur of motion, disarmed the man in front of him. As if in slow motion, Reid saw the comprehension register on the man's face. Reid was already slamming the butt of the weapon into his opponent's stomach. As he doubled over, Reid brought a knee up into his face. This all happened so fast that the other two were only now shouldering their own rifles. Reid thought for a moment he had misjudged the situation. Perhaps the rifles were functional. He fired a shot into the air. The rifle clicked. The man in front of him finally hit the floor, falling on his ass and tumbling back further. The second man had almost finished pointing his rifle at Reid, who now dropped the rifle and ducked under the anticipated blow from behind, spinning as he did so. He kicked out his leg, sweeping away the feet of the man behind. There had still been no shot fired. The man with the rifle wasn't even pulling the trigger. Instead he was shouting a language Reid couldn't understand. He was trying to be as loud and fearsome as possible. Still not impressed. Reid stood and took two swift steps toward him. The man backed up but didn't fire. Reid grabbed the barrel of the rifle with both hands, pulling it back as he slammed his boot into the man's knee. The ill fitting boots he had bartered for back in Kinshasa were hard enough to crack bone with enough force. They did so. As the third man climbed back to his feet, Reid swung the new rifle into his face, knocking him down again. This had all taken a matter of seconds. The first man was coughing, sucking in air in gasps as he climbed back to his feet. "I don't need a ticket," he said, throwing the rifle at the man's feet. They left Dolisie soon after.
  16. Will straightened up awkwardly, holding aloft the first aid kid. "Found it." He announced triumphantly, and then read the situation. The girl did not look at all comfortable or at ease. "Rhyse..." he tried the name out, moving slowly so as not to alarm her. "It's ok, you're safe here. But if we don't take a look at that leg it could get infected. Best to be sure, right?" He sat down on the edge of the and put down the first aid kit - a small green plastic box with a white cross on the face. Opening it carefully, he surveyed the contents. There were plasters, gauze bandages, some antiseptic cream... he removed each useful component as he found it, eventually removing the antiseptic wipes and setting the box aside. Indicating Rhyse's leg, he held up the wipe as he tore open the packet. "May I?" He asked, crouching down next to the bed. She didn't seem entirely happy with the situation, but with nowhere to go, she had little choice but to allow him to help or barge past him and run out into the night. He was sensitive to her ordeal as he gingerly brushed the wipe against her left knee. "Let me know if this hurts, ok?" he advised her. Probably should have said that before he started. He was careful not to press too hard or drag the wipe over the wound. "Looks sore," he said conversationally, trying to put her at ease. He took away the wipe, noting the colour of the blood. A "whaddaya know" hum was all that betrayed his reaction. Folding the wipe back in on itself, he applied the clean area to the wound again and continued his work. "I should probably tell you, I don't really know what I'm doing," he said with what he hoped was an affectionate smile. Opening the cream, he applied a small dab of the stuff to her skin. It was cool and soft. Rubbing it gently into the graze, he looked up at her. "Normally I'd buy you a drink first," he started, then thought better of it. Probably not the time or place for that kind of joke. "Sorry." He straightened out her leg. The graze was a little too big for any of the plasters in the kit, so he placed a pad over the top and started wrapping the gauze bandage around her knee. His hands weren't as soft as they used to be, but he tried to be gentle as he did so, conscious that he smelled of drink and his speech was probably slurring more than he realised. "So no to Galway then. Do you have another destination in mind?"
  17. “We keep a few fer ahmergincies, but Shield don’t usually need tem inside te city. Tere was no reason to believe there were any hostiles in the call but ahm sure…” Fuck…..fuck fuck fuck…… Didn’t sound like they would have enough which meant she was going to have to make her own blues give up some of theirs. Stuff was NOT exactly growing on trees. On the other hand she was not about to be accused of having left ARMA to die a potentially horrible death. “Two of each anti-viral in te truck. None like that. Rarely ever need ‘em, we’re just supportin’ Knights most o’ te time. We’re real good at not getting bit, ah wouldn’t worry ‘bout it too much. Ah jus’ need t’ know what’s gon’ come out.” She glanced at him, clearly reading the concern in his expression as he glanced to the horizon and his men. He didn’t understand the request… she needed to explain. Fingers slid the syringe with the red band around the middle from under the elastic that kept it secure in the box. Not "each"…..all of them…. Her squad all took the multi once a quarter. It was to help them work through the devastating effect of the triple dose poison, to build themselves up so they didn’t pass out taking it. It was their "apocalypse" syringe… the one you took when you had no clue what you had been exposed to or if you knew you had been exposed to more than one virus. It sucked balls to take it. One anti-viral made the "victim" feel like they had a nasty flu…. taking all three anti-virals at once had put a few of her men into a mild coma. ….and not coming out….. already here…… Amber eyes glanced at the war zone that had been the lab. We don’t know all the details but I have an insider at the damn CDC who likes to keep their secrets. Few months back there was an outbreak at NY Hospital. Sleeve was already being rolled up. It was nearly a city-wide catastrophe. There was a patient X who was carrying a bastardized version of a virus, something that was clearly messed with chemically, not by nature. Fist flexed several times to help swell her veins to the surface. The amber meeting his. Someone is experimenting with it and made the virus airborne. It only survived short term in the air but it was a whole new danger that CDC tried to ensure didn’t go public. Chin gestured to the charred debris. That was a lab… and based on the fragments I was able to glean they were experimenting on the damn viruses. Everyone that came on premises might already be infected. Everyone was going to be pissed as hell that she was sharing…. But this shit was not to be kept from any who had the slightest chance of being exposed and at least on the surface were looking out for public best interest. Everyone needs to take all three anti-virals because I cant tell which they were working on. My guys have a multi-anti…. we should have some spares but I need to know quick how many you are going to need. With that the needle was already sinking in her skin, hand expanding as she pushed the plunger, skin around the site instantly speckling red with what had the appearance of a nasty rash. This day went south quick.....
  18. Definitely something off. The detective was grabbing at some box or other that jingled a bit like glass. He hadn’t caught on to exactly what was happening, but figured since guys were running to their cars it meant danger was pretty close and if they ended up hauling ass that would mean something that could kill was close. The question that came out of the Detective’s mouth was weird, too. They were in the city, with nary an infected in sight and she was asking about anti-virals. Usually the police weren’t this damn squeamish unless there was something in their face, so that was weird too. Make fun of the police all you wanted before the Resonance, but especially in recent times it took a tough person to do that job with all the nonhumans, altered, and infected running around. “We keep a few fer ahmergincies, but Shield don’t usually need tem inside te city. Tere was no reason to believe there were any hostiles in the call but ahm sure…” He was interrupted by the second part of the woman’s question, and shrugged. “Two of each anti-viral in te truck.” When the woman flipped open the lid and showed the triple anti-virals, Gavin shook his head slightly. “None like that. Rarely ever need ‘em, we’re just supportin’ Knights most o’ te time. We’re real good at not getting bit, ah wouldn’t worry ‘bout it too much. Ah jus’ need t’ know what’s gon’ come out.” The soldier shot a glance over to the horizon to track the sun’s steady progression into the horizon before turning his attention back to the cop. It was down enough for Gavin to be solid in a fight now, but if the conflict could wait for another hour or so then things would get a lot easier. The shitty part about being on the harbor, especially a recently exploded one was that there were only pockets of shadow to run around in. Inside the city, it was much easier to get around that issue… but water past the docks didn’t exactly provide much shade.
  19. “Nothin’ tat either wouldn’t be limited use or ah ‘ave no experience doin’. Could do fightin’ certain species or melee weapons, but I’m only good at the former. Te Resonance spoiled some guys, myself included, pretty hard so ah never had to learn a lot o’ stuff. Tank God ah dinnae turn out to be a mage, ahm too stupid to figure out tat shit. Fire away wit’ yer sidearm.” Seeing some kind of movement out of the corner of his eye, Gavin turned his gaze down toward the road. He had noticed the movement before the sound became audible, at least to him, of the car cruising down the road. As it became closer, the white and gunmetal gray colors became pretty distinctive – Vanguard colors, a patrol coming back to the city more than likely. His outward appearance didn’t change, and he just stood there lazily like he previously was. His gray gaze was following the car as it passed and did not waver from it an inch once he caught sight of it, but otherwise there was no other indication outwardly that there was anything amiss. To be honest, the soldier wasn’t sure that the other man would even know what the Vanguard was so there was no point in bringing it up. There was a reckoning that would happen with the Vanguard at some point, but hopefully that reckoning would occur long after Gavin was dead and gone because fuck fighting the Vanguard. His phone vibrated, then, with a text message so he opened up his phone while he kept tabs on the patrol cars passing by and started typing up a storm.
  20. Dika nodded, motioning to all of the boxes. [dika]"It looks like we are as ready as we will ever be."[/dika] Dika still had no idea what it was they were doing but wanted to help in any way that he could. Unpacking boxes seemed innocent and easy enough, so he set to work doing that, laying the contents of every box out on it's own individual tarp, like the reconstruction of a body on TV crime shows. Dika didn't know what any of it did, but he knew that it would be easier to see it all laid out like it was on the blueprints, maybe he could figure it out from there as the boxes got unpacked.
  21. Dika hurried over to the mess that had erupted at the young woman's table. He took the cue from Murphy and grabbed the young woman, picked her up, and set her to the side as quickly yet gently as he could. This was the time that the training would come in handy, he guessed; not to complete a mission but to get in a bar brawl of all things. At least the police would actually back him up on this one, he hoped. Dika took advantage of the stupidly-prone drunkard in the chair and threw a strong hook right into his upheld jaw. The blow landed strong, Dika felt the jaw give way as the drunk was knocked out and watched as the man's energy flew towards and around where he had hit. Dika took solace in the fact that he hadn't broken anything before spinning around and sizing up his friends, who had all stood in preparation to defend their friend. The closest one to Dika took a haggard step forward, clearly in no shape for a tussle. Dika scoffed as he watched the man's energy flow, watching for a weak point to make this fight a bit faster. Just there, in the left leg; Dika saw that he was nursing a bad knee. Dika couldn't tell what was wrong but he knew something was, so he kicked for it, turning his body and swinging his foot around to the back before yanking it forward, hard. The man tumbled to the ground, in pain but still conscious and mostly unharmed by the fall, thankfully. Dika wanted to stop them, not maim or kill them. He had been pretty outnumbered but they were clearly outmaneuvered. Dika got back into a fighting stance, holding his ground, waiting to see what would happen next.
  22. Earlier
  23. In this parallel universe, humans unknowingly live next door to the very creatures that are thought to exist only in myth. Supernaturals own establishments, attend classes and with great effort, blend with the rest of human society Modern day Cordova is of no exception. This fictional city in the heart of Colorado is home to humans, psychics, and Weres alike. Tensions run high as law enforcement continuously attempts to solve the cold cases of missing people and murders that pile up at an alarming rate. What Lies We Breathe is a relaxed adult Urban Fantasy site that provides a comfortable place to play for anyone and everyone. { HOME | GUIDEBOOK | GETTING STARTED | FACE CLAIM }
  24. He caught the furl of the brow and instantly it was mirrored. He didn’t want the Czech worrying about him. "I did this.." Head shook as the hands that went to rub tired eyes were caught by oddly soft hands, the new skin still lacking the normal calluses. Nah…..I had an argument with the sun…. you will be happy to know I won….. he is off sulking at the moment. Smile was gentle, bathed in the glow of blue indicator light the missing eyebrows and lashes were also visible giving the Spaniard an oddly ethereal appearance. "I'm always fucking things up." Thumb rubbed over the fingers that closed over his hand. Not your fault Sun got randy….. Smile still lingered. "How long will it take you to... get better... lot less than my collarbone I would imagine.." A soft chuckle again murmured in the deep chest, a warmth that it had lacked lately in his sullen sulking. Ya… skin already stopped sloughing off, just a little raw still…. the hair…. Hand lifted to lightly rub over the balded head with ginger pressure to ensure he didn’t peel the still fragile skin. Well…. last time I fritzed in the sun I had no more than peach fuzz for a good month, took a few months for it to grow completely back. Lopsided grin came with a shrug as he lightly brushed the collarbone. Probably have all my hair back about when this is fully healed.
  25. Lip quirked upward at the chuckle. He knew Gabe was upset, he wasn't ignorant to that... it was just, the man was really sensitive... and he had no other way to weasel through to him than humor. He wasn't used to people not knowing what he was thinking. It just meant, well fuck, they needed to really spend more time together. Cough shot pain through those thoughts, the compression of his chest welcome... bringing his breathing back to a normal flow. The visual of his Spaniard, was not. Brow furled at the man, taking in what had happened. Fire.. sun.. none of the above..?? Someone else while he was away? The expressions flickering over his face from guilty, to anger... revenge promised to whomever had done it... then back to guilt. "I did this.." Face scrunched tight as he rubbed his eyes, already guilty and on a teetering edge- he just knew. Brain put back together the time of day he'd fled the plane, when he started his 'cleansing' of his property, how long it would take Jacob to tattle, Gabe to travel. Sun or fire. Maybe both. "I'm always fucking things up." Fingers closed over the hand on his chest, the exhale a small wheeze. It wasn't true, he knew it wasn't true... even the inkling that he'd probably just helped save the eastern seaboard didn't make up for the fact that his actions had hurt Gabe. Face released, swallow thick. "How long will it take you to... get better..." They never talked about stuff like that... the Czech always burning with questions but never asking. "Lot less than my collarbone I would imagine.."
  26. Ooh, right! I don't know why that detail completely escaped me, I literally JUST read that part today. It helped immensely, thank you!
  27. New York is the most "back to normal" location so while there definitely would not be the volume of places there once was there still are pockets of places for the impoverished to go. That said because 60% of the population vanished there are tons of abandoned apartment complexes etc... so not normal to see for example "homeless" because they would take up residence in one of the not used buildings. Hope that helps!
  28. Hello! With everything upturned, what is the state of welfare? IE are food stamps still a thing, gone back to the literal stamp booklets? Is medical care for the impoverished still available? Are there the usual drives from churches donating things like blankets, jackets, clothes, etc. still happening, or is it too dangerous now? I apologize if it's already detailed anywhere, I am still exploring the site Thank you in advance
  29. Dark eyes watched the hand pat his head, almost breaching a smile across his lips. Looking for his glasses again. He really needed to get Chelsea to look at Bo's vision, see if there was options…. was lasik even a thing anymore? The Spaniard had no idea. Confession was naked and incredibly vulnerable. The reaction, however, wasn’t exactly what he expected. "Jesus criminey Gabe..." Blink was a bit confused. Brow lifting as the Czech fell back against his pillows and huffed at him before seething a groan of pain. "Jacob wishes we were done... " I don’t care what other people wish……..care what you wish…….. Soft words came instantly to the mumbled complaint. It was the truth. Ausar himself could forbid a relationship and the Spaniard would defy him if it was what the Czech wanted. "I don't eat, sleep unless you remind me to and you don't even NEED to eat... your office is constantly covered in my paper crap. I drink from the carton, hide your booze and let you drive that French German Italian bastard car like a bat out of hell, and your best friend hates my guts. You shouldn't be putting up with me." ……..putting up with you implies I do so out of obligation….. being with you has never been an obligation to me Bodhan…. Quiet words licked of his heritage accent. It happened the most when he was exhausted and emotional, the full name that was rarely used hanging warm in the air. "My brain never stops moving. I run on a clock that nobody understands. Glamis feels like yesterday. The shit storm over the last few days in New York feels like forever ago. I didn't realize it had been so long since Scotland. I wasn't feeling like... myself at the cabin after Maree showed up." Nod was faint in the dark. He knew that, and knew it was too much to expect the Czech to commit at the same time as the reunion. That had not been what embedded the doubt for the Spaniard. It had been the growing distance, the silence, the lack of any contact. "Ten years of my life learning to be alone, okay with the idea of putting a gun in my mouth up until you stuck a knife in my ribs and... filled this... hole in my life. I almost didn't want her to be alive, then I felt guilty for that. I've only ever had to rely on one other person in my life. Now there's two... and I feel guilty I want her to stay in New York, and us here. Like I'm betraying her because I want to stay here with you." He wanted...... to stay? It was an odd revelation for the Spaniard. Lips parted then closed, unsure what it was he would say. The Czech forever felt like he was trying to get away. The last six months had been an endless procession of feeling the younger man was trying to escape. "I was avoiding. Sorry for that." Swallow was tight as he tried to digest it all. The words wanted to beckon relief but the last six months left him cautious. Perhaps this was just the pain meds talking? "I'm a nerd... you know nerds have no social skills until after a few whisky shots." The tickle of a smile finally emerged over his lips, the barest hint of a chuckle rumbling in the barrel chest. The Czech was definitely more social after a few drinks. Of course that was a double edged sword, it made him flirty too and not always with the Spaniard. It had been a long time since the Czech had been that relaxed…. a very long time. "I'll get you something. It will take a while though, but that's the point. Not supposed to be easy. If it was easy, it wouldn't be worth fighting for.." I have never needed anything but you….. just you….. It was cliché but….it was the truth. The cough drew the Spaniard instantly forward. Red, bald head penetrated the soft blue light of the indicator on the IV stand as the large hand rested on the chest to lightly compress, quelling the urge to cough knowing the ribs and shoulder would be angry with that form of concussive violence. You need rest…. Soft words came as his thumb stole the opportunity to gently rub along the chest as his hand held the compression.
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