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  1. Today
  2. Would Be Reluctant Hero

    As soon as she saw his eyes open an inner sign of relief happened. Him opening his eyes was a very good thing. Good indication that he was conscious enough to be aware what was going on and that meant that there wasn't anything extremely serious with his head. "Ah. There you are..." She smiled softly and placed her hand in his, then looked over at the other doctors. "Let's take him to trauma one," she said and the next instant they were moving to the room closest to them. They entered the room and people rushed around doing this and that to check on vitals. Her head lifted and she looked around. "Alright. I need you all to leave the room please," she said calmly. Everyone looked at her and left the room. It wasn't too unusual that sometimes she would ask this of the doctors and by now they somewhat knew what was going on, but she was beyond thankful that none of them really ever confronted her about it or constantly asked her to heal people for them. Then again she was pretty sure that if someone happened to come in in pretty bad shape she'd probably get a page. “I, “I can’t afford to pay." Her eyes squinted and she looked down at him. "Don't worry about that.... Just relax and let me take care of you," she paused for a moment as he spoke more. "The other doctors are more than capable to take care of the others. My main concern right now is you. You're in pretty bad shape." She placed one hand on his cheek lightly and kept her eyes on him. After completely assessing his injuries she was completely aware that he should probably feel beyond lucky to even be able to be aware of anything going on around him. It would take 15 or more minutes to heal him. Lots of injuries meant lots of things for her to focus on. Lucky for me the doctors know not to disturb me until I leave the room, she thought. "What's your name?"
  3. Yesterday
  4. Vroom Vroom

    Dika chuckled and shook his head. [dika] "You have it all wrong my friend. I know absolutely nothing about any of this. I can help hand you a tool or clamp a bracket in place or give you a guidebook on interpreting these schematics but that is about it. I'm the tool monkey here, just around to hand you stuff. I have no idea how any of this even works."[/dika] Dika waved a gesturing hand at everything that surrounded them; the parts and pieces and tools and plans. Dika took another swig of his beer before adding, [dika]"To be quite honest, I'm almost sure I'll just get in the way, and if I ever do, please say something and I would rather leave you to it, okay? I want to help you, not slow you down; you know?"[/dika] Dika stepped gingerly over and around several pieces and parts to more closely inspect the cooler-looking bits and baubles. He could almost see how everything fit together, but how it was all supposed to was foreign to him.
  5. What A Booty-full Place

    Dika headed out shortly after the poor girl left. He knew she was pretty shaken up, but they had all survived the tousle no worse for the wear. He decided that it would be best to pack it in for the night, not wanting to stir up any more trouble. He finished his drink, winked at the bartender, grabbed his coat, and left. So much for a fun night out, thought Dika. He hurried home to feed the gecko and catch up on some reading.
  6. Building a Mystery

    Shit. Damn that tick. It was the tick she didn’t want to see. The tell. The brow furl. The big frackin’ neon sign that the brute knew something was off. Well, the big pups did have master snoots, but damn if it wasn’t an adorable snoot. Bully for him. Pure caged rage wrapped in Borgioli tastes. It was intoxicating. Another plus. She’d put off investigating Bakkhos for too long. She didn’t take the paper right away… the petite Viceroy didn’t do paper reports, her brain could hold everything verbally. Hand slid from her pocket to acquire it, placing it onto the counter without a second glance before returning to her pocket. Attention was on the glass he poured, blink slow. Last time a man poured her a glass of this, of anything for that matter, was a helluva long time ago. He’d touched it, which by all means gave her no interest in taking it, but it was Zacapa- and she wanted it. Not many had something she wanted. Just as she went to reach for it, he started rattling on. The heel of her hand set itself on the counter. Buzzkill. Hammers didn’t always hit the nail even if they had a lot of force, and he seemed to be a hammer. He was a damn spirits connoisseur for Pete’s sake, even he should understand what it meant to appreciate it for a moment. Attention stayed on the glass, disappointed, as she listened... somewhat. Maybe she’d misread him. “You are overpaying your crew by about 30%. The foreman for the masons is skimming about 10% to put into his own pockets. Friday afternoons appear to be holidays for the welders. Also, apparently, they only need two out of every three workers, as the rest appear to be idle at any given time.” The smell of rum was enough to keep her interested. She wanted it. She wasn’t Gaspari and didn’t need a mechanical report spouted to her… well she did, but timing. Timing was everything. Christ, this was like smoking the cigarette before sex. She wanted that damn glass, a second, a moment to breathe it in and enjoy it. Fingers reached up from their stationary hand and touched the glass gently. Just drink it, and all will be better… slow intake of air preceded just that, eyes watching him a moment over the rim of the glass. Tasted just like she remembered, low lashes for a moment and a soft exhale to swirl it over her senses. The Sheut looked at it and nodded slightly in approval of the bottle. It was what it said it was. “Despite the inefficiencies and thievery, construction appears to be going quite well, if a bit slower than I had hoped. Now that we have finally met, I’d like to thank you personally for contributing to the rebuild. Many would have taken advantage of the chaos of the Blood Moon and vanished into the night.” Her brain was a steel trap, the two words she needed snatched from the other things that had interrupted her drink. She’d heard what was required. Made up for disturbing her drink in a way. All about honesty. Trust. A perpetually coiled cobra beneath the cool façade turned their large chocolate irises back to him. The sound of Toby’s hushed footsteps moved toward her, her attention shifting effortlessly from the brute to her charge, nodding once. Toby handed her a thin leather executive portfolio, moving off to find Roderick. Leather was set silently on the counter on top of his paper. Nothing he’d said needed an answer. She gave people the courtesy of speaking their mind, most of the time. “Do the full moons frighten you, Thomas?” Voice was almost inaudible, casting aside the Mr. and Ms. crap. She picked up the glass again; swallow slow with the last slide of the amber liquid as she watched him. Nostrils flared slightly as she breathed in his delicious crazy… she loved coiled rage, the single act of nonverbal communication enough for him to catch. She knew what he was, she was aware he had ferreted out her unusual blood, and she wanted him to know that. Toby’s presence was also intentional, he smelled like her; more of the same unknown beastie that could intelligently rip doors from hinges during even a Blood Moon- together in one place. Either the tasty brute knew what her flavor of beastie was, or he didn’t, but her silent admittance that she wasn’t going to blow smoke up anyone’s ass cast aside any shreds of formality that were left. She could, and would speak plainly. “Steel doors. Panic rooms,” she contemplated quietly, looking at the light refraction in her glass. “Weres never terrified me. Never. I don’t have steel doors. Mouse called and said she was trapped. It wasn’t the Weres that scared her, it was being trapped. They very thing that was supposed to make her feel safe, didn’t. I didn’t save her to save her life, I saved her because she deserved to make a choice when, how and if she died. She refused to cower in a corner, and they trust me to give them the opportunity to find that strength. It makes them fearless, they cannot control their circumstances, but they have total control of their fate.” Glass lifted so she could scent it one last time. THIS was what one spoke of over liquid memories. “Once you cast aside the fear of death, you find everything in this lifetime becomes enjoyable, every minutia the opportunity to give you a sensation or an emotion you’ve never experienced before.” She even welcomed annoyance and anger; it forced people in split seconds to decide whether or not they gave a shit about someone. “Most people would have taken advantage of the Blood Moon chaos for a free pass to escape the wrath of Bakkhos because they fear you.” There was so much more, she was such a complicated beast. “I fear nothing, let alone taking responsibility for my actions.” Empty glass clinked softly on the counter, gaze resting on the leather with a subtle cue it was his to take before shifting her eyes back to him. His report, paper, her folder. That’s what she used to do for a living. Lived, breathed. She couldn’t get away from it. Learning ways that everyone she was after manipulated and stole from each other, it even permeating into the ranks of the DEA themselves. All for one purpose, to make more money than the other guy, or shut them down completely. It was a constant chess game of power, betrayal, plotting, planning for one end alone. To find who you could trust. He’d caught the money, but she was still curious why he hadn’t fired them himself when he discovered the bullshit. She was not in charge, or a contributor. That was his position. It was his business. That was her end game. Could she trust him when she handed over the money to not squeeze her for more. She found him to be sharp, gracious. “Thank you for not taking advantage of my responsibilities, that cash will take care of all your concerns. The other annoyances are your purview. It’s your money, not mine. It ceased being mine the moment I chose to destroy your property,” warm rum rich hum of her voice was still below conversational level. “But you’re too kind, I hope not for the sake of offending me. I don't get offended. If they displease you, fire them.” Toby’s footsteps out the door lit up her face as she watched him leave. If anything, that was her tell. She truly thought of her people as family. They made her happy. She was proud of their strength, the progress from where she'd found them. Toby, hunted by the Sheut for being an orphan. Mouse, cowering in a flop house in what was left of Detroit. Ahanu, almost on her deathbed. She contemplated taking the next step she’d saved for another day. Addressing the Bakkhos sniffing around her compound like they owned the lot. “I now know I can trust you. I could learn to like you. You're interesting when so few people are.” That was the closest she ever got to a compliment. “Pour me another drink and we can talk about the weather, and who does your tailoring.”
  7. Last week
  8. The Eclectic Charm

    Picking up his glass to take another drink Brandon listened to the woman and nodded his understanding, “grew up in this city, on the streets basically,” Brandon admitted as he took in a deep breath thinking of his days as an orphan in the big apple, “a lot has changed, mostly for the better.“ The musician was playing on the harp and singing a song from the sixties called, “the sound of silence.” It was a tune Branden had heard before and thought it was rather ironic as the melancholy lyrics were sung. “So which direction did you come in from,” Brandon asked taking another sip before setting the glass down again, “I arrived a few months ago for the New Haven to look for a job. Not much there after things. It looks much like a ghost town.”
  9. Would Be Reluctant Hero

    Through the fog that was beginning to gather in his mind Brandon heard Altheia’s feminine voice as she made her request. His eyes opened slowly to look at the blonde physician, turning his head towards her face and those beautiful eyes. His were still the unusual shade of blue though the affect of his magic was beginning to subside allowing hits of the hazel that was his norm. He squinted trying to get things into focus and to cut out some of the light as one of his pupils was slightly larger than the other. The pain was growing more intense as the adrenaline levels began to drop and the complete realization of the extent of his injuries began to settle in on him. His head throbbed with every heart beat and the burns tingled in unison. He had slid down slightly in the bed and wanted to straighten out but when he tried to sit up the effort hurt too badly to complete the movement. He continued to look at her and attempted to smile feeling the tightness of dried blood on his face and up again at the woman and felt the to of drying blood on the side of his face. “I, “I can’t afford to pay,” he admitted letting his gaze drop down and he moved uncomfortable, “you probably should take care of the others first.”
  10. The Eclectic Charm

    Phoebe's fingers drummed on the glass, finally able to relax a little; it had been a hectic couple of days after all. Her eyes drifted to the musician; it still amazed her that people so mythical were in their midst; probably one of the things she'd never really get used to. Well hey, some excellent background sound was nothing to gawk over. Phoebe snapped back to reality, turning to Brandon with a nod, focusing her attention more. "Steady work, huh? I haven't seen any opportunity like that in a long while...." She paused, thinking about how nice it could be to settle down a little... but that was wishful thinking. "I'm the same way. Got to the city a day ago. Only saw pictures before I came on in." She took another sip, reveling in the rare and exquisite taste; for her, at least, setting the glass down and focusing more on conversation.
  11. Words and Wax

    “Coffee would be great, black with no sugar will be fine, thank you.” Mage. Something. Humans didn’t have eyes like that. She wasn’t sensitive in any respects, that was good old hostess sleuthing. “Done and done,” she smiled. She disappeared for a moment, returning with a fresh mug for him on a saucer and a refresher on her own mug- hearing the tail end of his outward thoughts. Soft clink set it on the table near him, and she took a drink of her own while eyes traveled over the shelves again for another that could be helpful. The safe though, that was for when all avenues were exhausted. “tunc custos magica, et pr?,” A smaller tome was pulled out, not as ornate, focused more on the theories around the cultures with the knotwork. Some had pagan magic, some used earth magic, some were god based. It really depended on the area. It was definitely massed produced now, but most were copies of common manuscripts or sculpture and jewelry because they weren’t copyrighted so one saw the same designs over and over. She had never seen this one before, which was quite a feat. Her only train of thought was that it was older, or he had access to something she did not. Stumbled across it, maybe. It seemed to be a rubbing, which meant it was probably carving- headstone maybe? “Time Magic, you really think my knots have something to do with magic?” “Honestly, nowadays that’s the first place my mind goes. Over a decade ago, people always tried to prove magic was real. My shop was a fun novelty. Now, I assume everything is some kind of mojo in order to make sure it doesn’t try to kill me.” She took another sip and set the other book down. “Knotwork is something I know well, it can be a type of magic. Real magic. Take a look through those and let me know if you need anything else.”
  12. Enter the Phoenix

    "Sure thing, Paddy. I'll just sit here and we'll talk about how to steal stuff and detonate gas tanks. The usual, right?" “You mean people don’t talk about that?” brow cocked, “How the hell you out here and don’t know how to blow shit up?” Chewing slowed, taking another bite as she sat down. He patted over his pockets. Some lessons needed learnin’ after he fixed her hand. Where was that damn tube? Argggg… always needed stuff when he couldn’t find it and when he didn’t he was always dropping the damn thing. Crap, did he drop it? "Well, thanks. I've had this rifle as long as I know. Its pretty good at making things on the opposite end stop moving." “Those make great tinker toys,” he said, popping the last of the sugar into his mouth to chew it on the side like a chipmunk. Where the hell was that tube?? He policed his wrapper into his side bag, then dug his hand around it for a moment. “Love those, all sorts of mods you can do to make things stop moving, that’s the fun part. Myself? I like boomsticks. They’re a bit on the loud side but nothing sexier than the rack of a shotgun.” Fingers snatched something from his side bag, the little green tube with the orange cap something of great value apparently judging from the Cheshire Cat grin… could have been the talk of guns, or still pondering explosions. "Anything you can do for the hand?" He held up the prized tube between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s crass, but it’s better than any stitches out here and keep a slice from flopping around open like a Pez dispenser.” Superglue. “Choice of champions for professional asskickers.” He handed it to her. Suuuuuuper glueeeeee. “It’ll sting, but it works.” "I just want to get there before night, that's all." “Well, we could do two things. I was planning to hunker down here tonight. Top floor is actually quite cozy and beastie proofed as best it can. Make some food, get a good night's sleep. Or, we could make the last leg to New York by the skin of our teeth by dark. Not gonna leave you to walk. Walking sucks especially if you have a ride prospect. I’ll leave it up to you….I’m not a crazy serial killer.” Lie. Sort of. He killed bad people. Plain and simple. “I’m an accountant… and I own a bar, this is just one of my thrill seeking treasure hunting missions. Because… accounting is boring.” He got up and brushed himself off. “But first, while you finish your Snicker’s break. How to blow things up.” The meta cleared his throat. “Observe, gas tank. Reservoir, anything gas related,” he gestured to his bike and the large rusted reservoir tank next to them. “Gas, is not flammable. The vapor is.” He knocked on his bike tank. “Full.” Then the reservoir. “Empty. Shoot a full tank, you spill fuel, nice for slowing things down but no fireworks. Shoot an empty tank, or aim high, you release vapor, you fire again to nick it… boom.” He slung his shotgun back over his shoulder. “Nick it. Make it spark. Will save your life someday, or amuse you. Maybe both. And now you know, and knowing rocks like G.I. Joe." Hands fell on his hips a moment and he squinted at the sky. “What’s the verdict boss? Do we stay or do we go?”
  13. Silence, My Brother

    Mon Aug 24, 2020 6:13 PM Blue. A single finger was held up. Johnny Walker Blue Label, already fine whiskey, was still scarce. The distillery had not had time to produce yet another batch since re-opening its doors. In other words, it would be a miracle if this bar happened to have it. Then again, Boone was nothing if not resourceful. The mage glanced around. Any familiar faces? Any faces best forgotten? That would remain to be seen. After all, it was only a little past 6 on a Monday. *Can you believe the balls on this guy? *I know you’re pretty much made of steel, but who the hell tackles a tiger? What? The man looked almost offended. It spilled my beer. Was I supposed to just let that go? Light glinted off the second speaker’s forearm, exposed under the shredded layers of green cloth that had once been a zookeeper’s uniform. Alec shrugged off their presence and turned towards the other side of the bar. Oh come on! What? Was it something I sai… Boring. ARMA was quiet these days. Could there be anything more obnoxious than quiet? He had nothing to do except handle paperwork. Why couldn’t they have some kind of scandal? Where had the false mages gone? And where the hell was that drink?
  14. Spare Me Over Another Year

    She heard what Calder said but the panic did not abate from the rope that tied her down. She tried her best to breathe through the trouble though, reminding herself that freaking out was not going to help. That was...what they wanted? Wait who was they? She screwed her eyes shut and tried to remember, mentally trying to chase the memory as it faded away. She could somewhat recall being tied up before, and gagged. Kicked and biting like a wild animal at captors and getting nowhere. Someone laughing about her struggles as someone else commented how fruitless they were but she had struggled anyway. She couldn't remember faces but she could remember being on something moving. A plane? A boat? Dammit it hurt to try and grab a hold of things. She couldn't seem to drag it forward where she might recall it. All it did was fuel the agony in her skull until she was whimpering from the pain. The panic was still there too, gnawing at her insides until she started struggling again. The damn rope was to thick for her to be gnawing through it, hell a knife wasn't likely to even help. She would have to figure out the knot but looking at it made her head hurt for entirely different reasons. She could do this though. It couldn't be much harder than figuring out the wiring to explosives. That led to her pondering what she knew about explosives. Apparently a lot as her brain just cruised through random trivia for a moment. Where had she picked that up? No she needed to focus. Needed to get out of this mess of rope before she started screaming like a lunatic. She sat breathing for a moment before she purposely curled into herself to reach the knot. Her teeth sinking in and tugging bits this way and that while the boat got underway again. She thought she might be making headway as she heard boots on the planks. "I don't like being tied up," she said as if that somehow explained everything. "I mean I REALLY don't like it."
  15. Oops I Did It Again

    “Sorry… forget that most people don’t drink in the morning.” She smiled at his words and felt like she could totally be one of those people that drank in the morning, if her life would only allow that. "I would totally drink in the morning, but my life doesn't allow that. I need to pretty much be one hundred percent aware one hundred percent of the time....If I went into work drunk I'd be fired on the spot," she said softly. Though I could probably find a freelance job healing random people for a fair amount of pay, she thought, but that would mean completely exposing myself. “Makes life interesting.” A slight nod of her head before she spoke. "I have no doubt that it does, but that doesn't mean you don't need to work for people that at least mildly treat you well and respect how you work," she said softly and realized that she kept lecturing him. It almost made her want to bite her tongue. She hated when people lectured her. Though she wondered with his attitude if he didn't really care. “That’s a snazzy gig.” Another smile graced her face and she shrugged slightly. "It pays the bills and it's pretty much all my life is for the most part, but when ARMA calls in a favor I pretty much feel it's pretty high on my list and needs to be taken care of first and foremost," she replied to him and sighed. There were times that she would like to have a more free felt life, but she really didn't think that that would ever happen. Unfortunately. "And i was asleep when I got the call. So you are very very lucky I came over...... I love my sleep..." “I can walk you out at least… gotta do the locks on the door for ya or you'll be stuck with me forever...” "I think you've had your fair share of beers this morning," she said with a small smile, teasing him slightly. She watched him and gave him another slight nod, accepting him walking her out. "That'd be nice. Even though, to be honest, I was way more nervous waiting out there for you last night than I am walking out to my car in the daytime." Yep, I'm a wuss, she thought silently to herself. For a moment she wondered why he had handed her his phone and watched him be his apparently usual self of being somewhat protective and looking out of the door probably checking to make sure there wasn't anyone who might have stayed behind from early. That wouldn't surprise her though. Those guys were such freaking assholes, she thought. She saw his hand and unlocked her phone, then handed it to him, wondering if he was gonna put some weird tracking thing on her phone. “Put your number in my phone, make up a cool name for yourself… like…. BringerofAwesome or AssSaver or some shit, makes it more fun with caller I.D.” "Oh.... okay," she said as she imputed her info into his phone. For a moment she thought of what exactly to put her name as and decided to go with AssSaver because well.... she wondered who WOULDN'T want to save his ass. A soft smile hit her lips as well as a soft blush, but she kept her mouth shut and kept that thought to herself. "Alright. Got it in there," she said as she closed his phone and held it out for him to take as her other hand opened, waiting for her phone.
  16. Would Be Reluctant Hero

    Tonight she had had to pick up a shift on the ER because too many people had been out sick with the flu or some other reason which she couldn't really fathom or explain. On one hand she knew that people did get sick and that there were emergencies which needed to be taken care of, but these people were doctors. Their job was to serve the city and community, helping people, and keeping them from dying. Sometimes it felt like all those things fell onto her shoulders, but you have to do what you have to do. Luckily though tonight it hadn't been too busy, but she dared not say that out loud because usually once you do things get very crazy very quickly. She had been sitting at the ER desk area, talking to another employee that usually worked the ER at this time, about nonchalant things. Then a call came in and the woman looked at her. Not even two minutes after they heard a faint sound of a siren which then lead to the loud blare of a siren. Altheia was up and off her seat within a few seconds and over at the door as the paramedics came in. About five more doctors came around the man that just came in and Altheia looked up hearing the paramedics explain what all had happened. How he saved numerous people from a burning building, not to mention a little girl. "Sounds like quite the hero," she said as she began to look him over, seeing if anything was something that immediately needed to be repaired. She could tell that he probably needed healing, but she wouldn't do it right here in front of a ton of people. Once they got him into a room she would just ask everyone to do mundane tasks so that she could do her job. "Hello, sir.... If you can hear me can you open up your eyes for me.... I need you to look at me," she said in a normal tone of voice. Before they did anything she wanted to make sure he could even be aware or conscious of what was all going on first. Hell she didn't even know if he had a concussion which would only add to the list of things that she would need to heal. Which was another reason she wanted to wait and get some x-rays done on him. The more knowledge she had of how extensive his injuries were. The more she would know just how exhausted she'd be, but that might lead to her needing an excuse to take a break and breaks were rare around here.
  17. Brandon and possible Affiliations

    Thanks for the reminder. I'll have to remember things are a bit slower paced here. Don't have that luxury on other boards so it might take a bit to let that mindset sink in. Altheia Martin will do some healing . The two could work together.
  18. Brandon and possible Affiliations

    Aw... don't get discouraged! Remember that this sites pace is a little slower because most players are late 20s and thirtys so family and careers takes a little time for people to free up from existing threads to add new ones. I have a doc that works the hospital. He is a bit of a loner but would definitely be someone to interact with there.
  19. Building a Mystery

    Tom’s eyebrows furrowed slightly for a moment as he caught her scent. Something was…off. Based on the accounts of her ripping the doors off their hinges, she wasn’t simply human. It reminded him of Mythos a little bit. He’d have to ask him about her later. There was a long pause as the two sized each other up. She was beautiful. There was no question about it. If pride had a scent, you wouldn’t need to be a wolf to smell it. It radiated from her like light from the sun. She could be a real problem. She could also be a powerful ally. No doubt, she was conducting a similar analysis. This would be an interesting encounter. "Truly well dressed men are rare these days." She was immaculately dressed as well. No doubt that she was a person who always looked their best. He understood completely. “Indeed.” He recognized the compliment. She didn’t seem to be one overly concerned with formalities. This was refreshing…sometimes the ‘family’ became stodgy and overly-formal without ever saying anything. Nowhere near as bad as pre-Resonance corporate elites, but still… “I don’t need to check up on anyone’s progress, least of all yours. I'm not anyone's mother.” Tom reached into his jacket and pulled some folded papers and handed them to Eris. “Perhaps you should.” He walked behind the counter that served as a bar as well. He produced two glasses and an open bottle of Ron Zacapa XO and poured two drinks. He nudged one in her direction as he took a sip from his own. Roderick had seemingly disappeared. “You are overpaying your crew by about 30%. The foreman for the masons is skimming about 10% to put into his own pockets. Friday afternoons appear to be holidays for the welders. Also, apparently, they only need two out of every three workers, as the rest appear to be idle at any given time.” Tom was revealing a part of himself with that report. He was an efficient, nearly mechanical man when it came to business. Inefficiencies were personal offenses to him. Especially when they were so easily corrected. “I came to ask you personally if you needed anything else to make the inconvenience of this rebuild more palatable.” If he didn’t know better, he would have interpreted this as an attempt to appease the Bakkhos out of fear. However, this was obviously not the case. She wouldn’t have sauntered in here like this if she was afraid. Which led to the next obvious question…why was she here? Why was she doing this? During the chaos of the Blood Moon, no one would have known it was her. What did she want from the family for her cooperation? This was a question he would have to get answered…although a direct approach was not likely to be fruitful. He’d have to be careful. “Despite the inefficiencies and thievery, construction appears to be going quite well, if a bit slower than I had hoped.” He took another sip from his drink. He too enjoyed this brand of rum. He looked into Eris’s eyes and raised his glass slightly toward her in a gesture of salute. “Now that we have finally met, I’d like to thank you personally for contributing to the rebuild. Many would have taken advantage of the chaos of the Blood Moon and vanished into the night.” He left the unspoken question of “Why?” hanging in the air. He studied her closely now. His eyes were still friendly, but calculating. He was looking for any sort of tell. No. He was no incompetent beast. He was no thuggish brute. The Capo ring on his hand was not given to him in recognition of his strength or blind obedience…but rather his mind and loyalty. The Beast and all the physical gifts that came with it were add-ons…supplementing what made Tom truly dangerous…his mind.
  20. Brandon and possible Affiliations

    So I have a post being worked on now that is associated with this. "Would be Reluctant Hero" . I left some things vague hoping that an investigator would fill in the missing details and might want to find Brandon in the New York Hospital or something. At any rate was starting to see if there was any interests. So far I would have to say no.
  21. Words and Wax

    With eager eyes Brandon took in the contents of the case as the doors were opened and the woman began to unlock the safe. He had heard her mention that they were expensive books, something the would have expected, and dangerous ones, which was something he didn’t quite understand. The light haired man hadn’t grasped she was referring to magic, hadn't associated the brooch with any power especially after a jeweler had told him it was pretty much just costume jewelry without much worth. To him the article had a great deal of worth. It was his only, that and the tattoo on his back, to his past and it was something he wanted to know, wanted to understand deeply. “Coffee would be great,” the Yale gad replied to her question looking up at Rorye, “black with no sugar will be fine, thank you.” Brandon’s eyes sparked as he spoke and the little blue specks in them danced as she brought out the leather bound volume and he took in her explanation of what was placed before him. His expression was one of eager earnestness as he moved in to take a better look at all the artful illustrations and notice the latin sprinkled in on sidebars along the old English verbiage that gathered around the artwork and offered some explanation. His eyes weren’t on the woman now then had locked onto the text as if it had some sort of magic spell in and of itself, some mystical power to draw in his mind and capture his imagination. Brandon’s hazel eyes slowly moved about the open pages reading the words on the page. Looked at a series of circular renderings that were extremely similar to the rubbing he had made then began reading allowed in a voice fairly above a whisper, “tunc custos magica, et pr?,” Brandon began reading the latin heading written by an ancient hand and embellished with the scribes artistic touches of the knots. “Time Magic,” the man said with a bit of surprise, “you really think my knots have something to do with magic?”
  22. The Eclectic Charm

    There was a smile on Jack’s face as he gave her a nod and turned to go about some of the other duties of a man in his position. He started to say something but stopped looking over at the door as the evening entertainment came strolling through the entrance. It was a woman, probably an off worlders based on the rams horns that grew from her head just above her ears. Other than that the the fact she only had four fingers on each hand rather than two one might be forgiven for thinking she was human. Se was carrying a harp of some sort. It was only about a foot and a half tall and about a foot wide with seven strings on each side, obviously not a common instrument for earth. Brandon glanced over as Phoebe as he listened to her only slightly noticing the musician, “Well I can’t argue with that.” He chuckled and took a sip of his beverage and glanced back over to her, "I suppose for some they have found a permanent home but I'm still looking for steady work so that makes it a little more dificult." There was a pause as he grinned and picked up his glass again, "Haven’t been back to New Your in a while, it’s better but to be honest I don’t know what it was like before 2010.” He shifted slightly in his seat and drew in a breath setting the glass of amber liquid down, “so how long have you been in New York?”
  23. Birth of the Underground Network

    “Why are you ashamed to be angry?” I hold no shame.. The words were quiet as the breath came deeply. … most certainly not of anger. But loss of control is vulgar. It was a very elven thing to say. There were parts of his inbred heritage that he just couldn’t escape. Just as he could not escape that despite finding a home lush and green and now riddled with more "kin"… his home… his original home…. was more. The loss still evident as he spoke of his world with a distant tone that seemed to reflect back at him like a mirror from the boatman. "I moved oceans." The nod was faint but there. This strange world was so…. dead… in so many ways. It most assuredly lived, but not in the rich ways of other worlds. It was a child among the stars. Most those stranded on this world now had cultures that were older than this entire planet. Whomever it was the boatman was trying to raise on the box was either not there or ignoring him, that much was clear. Cerulean eyes blinked at the man as the sigh came and eyes met his own. He was still deciding. Deciding which way to go both on these water.. and in his life. Elegant brow quirked slightly back at the man before the anchor was let loose, the ears dipping away from the offending clank as the violent sound reverberated against the much more sensitive ear drums. The spray of words that followed were not understood but clearly not pleased by the turn of events. Lips parted but clamped shut as the boat took a sudden jerk. He knew very little about boats but he was certain whatever was coming next was not something the boatman was expecting or wanted to happen. A fact made all more evident as the man went over the edge. Blink was profound as head turned looking around the boat. He was miles from any land and not exactly an Olympic swimmer. If he had just been abandoned to his fate it was looking like a grim one. It was his turn to pepper the air with an array of vulgar expressions in a tongue this world did not understand. Hand reached over the side of the boat to call up the seaweed once more, the thick kelp weaving in tight basket to float heavy on the surface like a raft. He would just keep weaving and walk to the shore on a seaweed "boardwalk"…. only the amount of effort to do the intricate patterning was going to exhaust him long before his feet once more set foot on land. All of which passed his thoughts in a moment just before the boat took a sudden heave backwards and began to tip up on its hind end while turning. WHAT THE….. Concentration broken the few feet of "platform" loosened and began to drift away as his feet adjusted to keep his balance, elvish spewing from his lips just as the boatman launched himself up onto the deck. Shoes were kicked off, revealing sockless feet, one slapping on the wooden deck, the other against the wooden side of the cabin, clinging there like a spider able to stick to a wall as he engaged against the once living material to keep from falling over the side as the boat tipped. It happened all at once and yet in slow motion. The bright eyes drinking in the blade he instantly recognized as from another world, the snap of the cable causing a nasty repercussion as the thing flung through the air seeking blood. Like a reed the elf was already bending away when the boatman's weight hit him and they both ended up sprawled on the deck as the sound of the impact of the whip cracked against the air to flinch ears downward. The first sharp bob of the boat spraying water over the deck before returning to the gentle up and down of the waves. Blink up at the sky was thoughtful. He might have been grazed as fast as the cable snapped and he himself was incredibly fast. But the boatman had been faster, protective instinct having driven him. There was a faint tickle of a smile on his lips as he started to become aware he was quite wet now. He had chosen well. This WAS the man to help him set their kin free. As the weight rolled off him he stared at the sky, squinting up at the single spot of sun as the boatman's head hit the deck. “I think I know where the freighter is. Let’s get you to Ocean City,” Chuckle was dark under his breath as he lay there staring at the sky a moment longer before propping himself on one elbow, left leg cocking upward. There was something more natural and alluring about the elf as he lay there contemplating the boatman. Soaked gray silk clung to his body, bare feet holding a nice stain of sun as he rarely wore shoes at home, the blazer askew on his shoulders showing the lavender button-up was now virtually see-through as it clung to a fit chest and the cascades of ebony silk that had a moment before been woven together now dressed wildly around him and on the deck. The subtle grin remained. You do know, I did not need a display of talent to make a decision. Smirk betrayed he knew it had not been done to showboat but the elf too had a dark humor. He was elvish but he was also something more. His mixed blood burned a bit hotter than the proper high born of his world. Hand pushed himself back off the deck, bare feet slapping softly on the watered boards as he brushed the dripping strands back behind his shoulders before shrugging off the wet gray blazer to toss on the railing. Perhaps it would dry, perhaps not, either way he didn't want the wet burden on his own form. The lavender sleeves were unbuttoned and he began to roll them up to his elbows as he eyed the boatman. You are the right man. You know this to be true.
  24. Words and Wax

    He seemed ready to go, read, research, find answers... Definitely one of those ‘up all night thinking about things’ types. “Thank you Rorye,” She nodded, “my pleasure.” “My name is Brandon. I had no idea there were so many books on Celtic knots, Yale only had a handful.” “We do specialize in things of that nature, also because it’s a personal interest of mine too,” personal interest was an understatement of the year. As he pulled something from his back pocket, she felt she needed to make him a bit more comfortable. “Can I get you anything to drink, on the house for new customers. Coffee? Any kind of tea imaginable?” Brow furled at the image he held out, fingers whisking a stray lock of hair behind her ear before they took the offered image to study a moment. “Perhaps you have seen these knots before,” Aww crap. She had seen something like it before, and it was definitely in a place that wasn’t for the average shop-goer. Lower lip was rolled through her teeth in thought, narrowed eyes studying the detail of the rubbing. She really wanted to ask where it had come from, for her own curiosity, but he wasn’t here for her curiosity. “Yes I have,” she said rather absently as she studied it like a jeweler would inspect a diamond. “Something similar. Celtic knotwork is a slippery subject, running through the ancient civilizations like rivers, all over Europe too. It’s not just a mathematic marvel and art form, it has a lot of power associated with it that was just occult superstition until a decade ago. It definitely has power. Ancient power that makes even old school mages nervous.” “What’s in the fun cabinet?” Before he’d even asked she was punching the code on the lock for the larger cabinet. Inside those doors were multiple shelves of books, antique… worn. Next to those, a safe, old school and built straight through the cabinet back and into the wall. “The expensive things… and the dangerous things,” fingers danced along antique and eclectic spines until she found the one she wanted, pulling it out carefully and putting it on the table. It was quite large, the tome carefully wrapped in a leather binding that was opened after unwinding a thin braided piece of what looked like human hair. “This is a book I picked up about a year ago. I’ve been deciphering it piece by piece, mostly gibberish so far, but the knotwork is similar to yours. Maybe you can find a match in the artwork.” She took a step back to let him take over perusing through it. “Talks about time, and pulling people through it using magic. I'll get my notes so you can look at those too.” It essentially was a blueprint for how the woman in her head could be reaching across a millennia and be attached to her. She'd questioned if Red was really dead, or stuck somewhere neither here nor there. Limbo maybe. She’d been working on deciphering it in effort to understand the woman a little better, but had not been overly successful in translation. Maybe he could get somewhere. “Coffee?”
  25. Oops I Did It Again

    He squinted at her morning beer face. Hahaha… making the world working drunks one person at a time! “Sorry… forget that most people don’t drink in the morning.” At least she ate first… that would help, especially if she had to work. No alcohol breath to speak of. "I really have no doubt in my mind that you aren't. You're probably the most crazy and in a way brave person that I will ever meet, but I wouldn't even allow them to hire you again. They really don't deserve you," “Makes life interesting.” Brow cocked slightly as she set her beer down. Alcohol abuse… what a waste. Apparently his mention of work made something spark in her brain and she went to pick up her phone, probably to check the time. He tipped back the rest of the bottle as she came back, leaning on the counter, bare ankles crossed, arms following suit. It was definitely a two beer kind of morning. "I actually need to get going... I've got 30 minutes until my shift at the hospital starts...." “That’s a snazzy gig,” he smirked slightly. “And here you found time to patch up little old me.” "Also. That beer is totally all yours if you want it." She didn’t have to tell him twice, snatching it. Maybe it was a three beer morning. “Of course,” he tipped that back too. Three beers before lunch within a half hour, that seemed about right for all the bullshit within the last 12 hours. Setting it in the sink with the others, he pushed off the counter, grabbing his own cell. “I can walk you out at least… gotta do the locks on the door for ya or you'll be stuck with me forever...” He flipped his cell open and handed it to her as he undid the locks and snapped the floor chock down so the door could actually open, peeking out and looking both ways into the alley. Hand was held out with a ‘gimme’ motion for her phone in return as he made sure there were no other asshats hanging around outside. “Put your number in my phone, make up a cool name for yourself… like…. BringerofAwesome or AssSaver or some shit, makes it more fun with caller I.D.” He in turn would do the same… and they'd be phone buddies! This shit was getting serious..
  26. Grand Opening

    Owner: @Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick This is your hometown bar. The one you are comfortable coming to after work or after a day out on the lake fishing. Six pool tables line the exterior walls. Games are free so long as you're drinking. The walls are decorated with an assortment of hunting heads and old photographs of movie stars. Brick and beams gives it an old pub feel right in the middle of New York. Stools line all the pillars as well as the thirty foot long bar with twenty beers on tap at all times, at least six of which are Irish. This bar is being opened to help ALL players have an easy place to have single and group threads - don't need to wait for "permission" or an invite from the owner to use it. This is an OPEN thread for anyone and everyone to join! Post order not required since multiple conversations, groupings can happen in the same thread here! NPCs - Please do not abuse these NPCs as they will be further developed as staples by Boone to run the bar Behind the Bar: Hagan "Hawk" Monroe - Retired Boxer - Powers TBD Don't fuck with the bartender. Attempting to mess with his shit will get you bounced by him personally - possibly through a window rather than the door. Behind the Bar / Waitress: "Blue" - Powers TBD Like something out of a retro diner she is a sleek painting in the moose head on the wall bar. Like Hawk - messing with her will likely lead to pain... lots of it.
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