outstandingbalance: (pic#10158390)
[personal profile] outstandingbalance
Date Night - Close to Evie

Tonight, it's dinner. Natasha's choice. She might not be able to appreciate the flavor of the food itself the way she used to, but she still enjoys the experience. The candlelight. The waiters. The wine.

She enjoys spending time with her girlfriend, the feeling of privacy that comes from being in a secluded table in a nice restaurant, while still existing in public. Most of all, she enjoys the company, the chance to make Evie smile.

It's strange to her, very very strange, like being in a new country and only barely speaking the language, but it's also good.

On Patrol

With so much going on, there's a lot of reason for Natasha to be out on the street. She needs to know what's going on, but that's only part of it. She also needs to be there if something goes wrong. This whole month seems to be one bomb dropped after another, and it makes her twitchy.

So she walks the area around Redbright looking for trouble. Maybe she finds it. Maybe she finds a friend instead?

And the Bar

Or maybe she'll run into a friend at the bar. She can hope. It'd be a pity to drink alone.

Natasha doesn't like the position she's in. Since she arrived in London, she's wanted nothing more than stability and a place where the supernatural communities observed at least the appearance of peaceful co-existence, and since she's arrived it seems like there's been nothing but threats to that in one form or another.

Not that she was optimistic about the situation. She's used to not getting what she wants.

But at this point, the situation is discouraging, and she'd like someone to have a drink with while she gets the disappointment out of her system.

thelastjoy: Girl arguing, angry, upset; live action (Six)
[personal profile] thelastjoy
A. Caffeine Cold

A full week of a new school probably would have fried her nerves even if she wasn't still adjusting to her curse. The full moon, naturally, hadn't helped one bit. Coffee probably wouldn't help her relax, but she wasn't about to deny herself something sweet when her mood was already so sour.

So of course she trips rounding a street corner and spills the drink all over herself.

"Shit, shit, shit." Girl hops from foot to foot, trying to dislodge the icy mush from her shirt. She starts scooping it off her clothes, promptly flinging it away from her skin and, probably, right onto the poor souls passing by.

B. Into the Wolf's Lion's Den

The East End pack has far nicer digs than she's used to.

She saw some of the place on full moon, but hadn't had time for more than a quick peek around before other matter's took hold. With the night behind her, she's curious to explore; see what she'll be contending with for the foreseeable future. She's examining a broken down wall currently, running her fingers over the ragged edge of splintered stone.

"Ya'll been rough with this place," she says, though her tone is warm rather than accusing. She finds the chaos homey. "Looks like a hurricane came thrashin' through here."

C. Chalk Zone
She's not far from her apartment building, sitting cross legged in a parking lot of some run-down shops. It's well past working hours and the place is deserted. Girl's made herself comfortable, an honest to god boombox blaring loudly by her side, and a bag leaning against her back. She riffles through it every few moments, picking out new pieces of chalk.

She's drawing on the pavement, mushroom clouds and dragons mixed with lines from old rock songs. It's not very good, childish and more a mess than anything artistic. Still, she seems to be enjoying herself and the look she gives when anyone walks by says she has no plans on stopping any time soon.

D. Player's Choice; Leave your own prompt
threadspun: (002. the supreme art of war.)
[personal profile] threadspun
the background leading up to the plot )

[ backdated during scandal week 2017. the catch-all post for the plot regarding the string of vampire assaults! information about this post can be found here and top-levels for the mentioned events/steps to this plot can be found in here. if you'd like to have a closed thread related to this, let me know! ]
redshoerevenge: (thirty eight)
[personal profile] redshoerevenge
Gipsy on the road again felt good, like she always did, with that purr and the hum of the open road.  It had been five years of the road in her blood, wild and free with a mission under her belt.  Mako might have been at the top of her class five years ago but the road had sharpened her to the finest of points.  But for now, she was leaving that behind and relaxing a little - or trying to, at least.  Fishing was one of those things that gave her a little breathing room, not to mention a good snack.  She had a nice fire pit lit and crackling behind her, the warmth at her back, a rod in hand and an empty bucket for her catches.

A sound, the rustle of bushes, that preternatural prickling at the back of her neck, told her she wan't alone as she pulled a decent sized fish from the water.

" If you are looking for lunch," she said quietly as she put the fish into a bucket, "let me catch another fish and we'll see about that.  Meanwhile, you may enjoy the fire."

It is difficult, sometimes, to get a cup of coffee that is truly good.  Mako stood in line at Cafe Poirot debating her choices.  It was like picking some sort of jewel out of a line up of the finest in the world.  The cappuccino was good, the machination was fantastic, the lattes were among her favourite and--  She turned to the person behind her at a loss.

"Which do you like from the menu?  I am debating on the latte but everything looks so good today."

Far more than fishing, working with mechanics of any type makes Mako feel complete.  Anything with a motor, anything with gears, she knows how to put it together.  It's been like this her whole life.  Machines are an intrinsic part of her life, personal and professional.  Setting up her garage, her workspace, makes her stay official.

She's very much the newest member of Hillingdon House, now.

Mako even has a little sign that says: Gipsy Danger's Quick Fix.  Okay, so it's a borrowed garage and a borrowed workspace but it's off the road and she's had a shower - a long one.  It's real enough that she hopes it'll stick.  At the moment, Mako was working on restoring an old engine, which has been neatly disassembled and placed on a sheet as she went through each, cleaning them.  A noise makes her look up from her work and she stops what she's doing.

"Did you have something that needs to be fixed?"


New places are often difficult to navigate and getting the lay of the land is something that Mako had learned to do before truly settling anywhere.  She had been wary of it but in rather dire need as well.  She moved carefully, looking for the kitchen and hopefully some tea.  But mostly, she was just looking.  She turned the corner and nearly bumped into someone.

"I am so sorry!" she said quietly, backing up a little.  "I am Mako Mori and I am also very new to this place.  Is there somewhere that I may make tea?"

e. Wildcard; pick a situation and we'll roll with it.
falsify: (pic#9304213)
[personal profile] falsify
There's not so many things that Eames actually enjoys these days, which is probably a sad fact, but don't feel pity for him. Because he has the most excellent dog in the world. Do you have the best dog in the world? No. Because he is Eames' dog and he is called Boxer and he's two years old and a beautiful healthy rottweiler who is smart and handsome and very well behaved.

Generally after he's done with whatever morning/early afternoon business he has, it's followed by a trip to the nearest park if he's brought Boxer with him.

There's nothing fancy or special here, just feel free to find him walking his dog or playing catch. Boxer's a little wary around other dogs, but he doesn't shy away when other dogs come over like he did when Eames first got him, which is nice to see. It's always good to know you've raised your child well.

Honestly? At this stage there's not much to be gleaned from watching the place, but that doesn't mean Eames won't.

He's not here every day, because honestly why go to Richmond if you don't have to, but every now and then he stops for a few hours to watch the comings and goings. Partially a catalogue of faces, partially to see if there's anything odd going on that might spill into public view. Especially after they failed to hold on to some of their prizes from the last few months.

A glamour makes him hard to see in return — not hidden, not exactly, but it almost... Diverts attention. Makes him forgettable and uninteresting. Probably what makes him feel confident hanging about in such a particularly dangerous area for a fae.

C//WILDCARD [Hit me up over PM or Plurk if you wanna do something different or have something specific in mind!]
emotioneater: (Caught in a lie)
[personal profile] emotioneater
 Cooper had spent the day in his office, mostly lost inside his own head. The upheaval of the Night Council was weighing heavily upon his mind. First Samantha had been made Mother of Witches. That in itself wouldn't have been cause for alarm, but now reading about the scandal that Sylvia Redbright was involved, he had to wonder. He could smell a power play from a mile off. After all, he'd been involved in more than one himself, both in his time running the Nest in Pemkowet with his mentor Stefan and the Nest here in London. The real question here is who was this going to benefit? Cooper could see part of the picture, but not the whole thing. He cursed himself for a fool, too stupid to put all the pieces together.

Ah well. Maybe it would come to him if he discussed with other members of the Nest. He turned out the light in his office and picked up his keys. A good ride back to his and Nancy's apartment would clear his head. He called home to let Nancy know that he was on his way. Just as he was about to hop onto his motorcycle, a woman with beautiful golden eyes came up to him. "Mr. Cooper? Might we have a word?" As he turned to answer her, the glamour melted away, revealing a fae with the ears and eyes of a doe, a pattern of dark dots surrounding her eyes and nose. Cooper felt a pair of strong hands grab him from behind, but before he could even begin to struggle, the doe blew powder towards him, and he slumped into unconsciousness.

Within minutes, there was no sign of what had happened to the vampire, save for a shattered cell phone and the keys still left in the ignition of his motorcycle.
specifiercity: (Default)
[personal profile] specifiercity
1 // "office hours" // mid-may // open to hillingdon
Arthur never thought he'd be in a position where he felt obligated to defend Sylvia Redbright from media slander. It's not even like he has to campaign for her, but if he managed to get cornered into a conversation about it, she is the lesser of two evils and still one of the biggest pieces on the board when it comes to dismantling Daybreak. He thinks it was a good move not to remain neutral like they have in the past, but it still manages to bug him.

Either way he's spending more time at Hillingdon House lately, realizing that his sprawling collection of research is too much to keep at his apartment. He's taken over one of the smaller rooms and sometimes he just sits there staring at a wall plastered with news articles and photocopied pages of old arcane books. He's still around to help give the hunters a bit of structure when and if they need it but mostly he's obsessing over the Daybreak problem and what exactly he can even do about it from his position.

Still, he'll try not to be too disgruntled if he gets interrupted from his long bouts of silence interspersed with cliche Edith Piaf "thinking music." His door is open, after all.

2 // he's still a hunter // may // open to all
The guy still has to eat, which means he's still taking bounties when he can get them. Islington shaping up has been a bit bad for business but it's good for humans in general, so he tries not to complain, but this does mean that he's taking a lot of low energy reconnaissance jobs instead of the more exciting ones he's used to. That means a lot of time at coffee shops and diners staking out offices and homes and various other places that are boring to watch. Clearly he needs a distraction.

(ooc: hit me up if you want a different/personalized prompt!)
morevacant: (coy)
[personal profile] morevacant
Popping. Locking. Bumping. Grinding. Since getting out of Meryton, Lydia's eyes have really been opened. Long gone are the elegant waltzes she had dutifully practiced to shut her mother up. Now Lydia spends every weekend, and then some, in London's clubs. Vodka flows, money is swallowed by hungry registers and Lydia stumbles out, exhausted and in search of cheesy chips, chicken nuggets and gravy.

Tonight though, she's gone someplace a little classier. She''s on the last of her money, but for now, she doesn't care. Lydia's learned enough to work out how to get guys to buy her drinks. Who needs magic when they have charm in buckets? Even several vodkas later though, Lydia's alert enough to spot a famous face when he walks in, and what a handsome face.

She zeroes in, dancing closer and closer to Cesare in what she supposes is a subtle manner, until after about half an hour of careful inching and meandering back and forth from nearby, she accidentally on purpose bangs into him.

"Oh my, I am so sorry!" she twitters, eyelashes batting and not sounding at all sorry.
"I didn't see you there, though how I managed to miss a man so handsome is beyond me."
longterm: (11 copy)
[personal profile] longterm
Cesare was reading the paper, sipping his morning coffee when the news of the Sylvia Redbright scandal broke. Good. He appreciated that so far Samantha had held up to her end of the bargain. All things considered, he had hoped she would but certainly hadn't expected it from her. Over time, Cesare has learned that people can be slippery like that, especially when you give them an opportunity for it. So far, Samantha has been solid. He likes her.

That morning he arranges a meeting with the press in one of the private function rooms of his hotel, somewhere private, where he cannot be interrupted. He's dressed in a suit, though his normal, somewhat ostentatious cufflinks are traded in for something more modest, and he's standing at a lectern on which his speech is written, a speech that he had written weeks prior.

"I am not the representative for my Nest and I speak solely for myself. However, I am certain when I say that President Redbright's behaviour has been shocking, appalling and harrowing. She has lead not one, not two, but three of the most prominent factions within this city and she has done so with underhand deals, deception and subterfuge. It is dishonest. It is corrupt. And it is undiplomatic.

When given the opportunity to be the voice of the people, she has used this power not for good, but for her own crooked personal gain. She has betrayed the people she was charged with representing, and that is why it is only right that she surrender a portion of the territories that she has dishonestly acquired, and give them to the Night Council that she has cheated for so long.

I am asking not for my own personal gain, but as a concerned citizen who has had enough of her corruption. It is time that she be held to account for her actions."
brightwitch: (Default)
[personal profile] brightwitch
2nd May: Mother of Witches Takes Seat on the Night Council )

6th May: Violence in Croydon TRIPLES following fae attack )




[OOC: This post is open to anyone who wants to react or talk about any of the news! If you want to grab an NPC, just say so in your comment.]
cabins: (Default)
[personal profile] cabins
Fuel for Thought

The final bell had rung for the weekend, and good lord if there wasn’t anything that was going to stop Laura from a cup of coffee for her way home. Some genius had decided the optimal place for a Starbucks was across the street from her school, and Laura couldn’t have been happier. Given that it was a primary school, she didn’t have to really risk running into any students, more so their parents. Still, it was a a sacrifice she was willing to make, and most parents weren’t getting coffee after picking up their kid, anyway.

She pushes her way into the crowded cafe where a line was already starting to form with others that had the same craving for an afternoon coffee to start their Friday off right. Already knowing what she wants, she’s lost in her phone when she feels someone brush up against her, pushing into the spot ahead of her.

“Excuse me,” she begins, tapping them on the shoulder. “I believe the line starts behind me.”

Which Way?

Despite having been in London for a few months now, there was one thing that always managed to confuse Laura. The Tube. She should have been able to figure it out- DC had metro transit, and she’d lived in upstate New York most of her life. But being a politician, she’d never had to worry about getting anywhere, someone would drive her. So her knowledge of how to navigate the underground system was severely lacking.

Which is how she’s found herself on some track, looking up at the sign telling her the next train would arrive in 7 minutes. It had been at 7 minute for the last 10. She wasn’t even sure this one was headed in the right direction- but the color was right. Circle line. So… where was the train?

She sighs, and starts peering down the hallway toward the other side of the track where a train just exited in the opposite direction.


“…was that the Circle going toward Monument?” Honestly, it sounds like gibberish to her.

Fun Den (For Ghoul)

"...Fun Ghoul, did I hear you say?" Laura isn't about to judge the youth for his colorful name, but it gets a slight eyebrow raise. She'd been in London for a few months, getting to know the city, but now it was time to truly get to know her pack. She thought she'd start with a tour of the den and was promptly put in contact with a Mr. Fun Ghoul. Something something Americans something, she figured.

Fine by her. she figured the younger man would be honest with her about the tour, and she liked being around younger people. probably why she was a teacher.

She extends a hand to her guide. "Laura Roslin- you can just call me Laura. I want to thank you for taking time out of your schedule to give me a tour. Would you like something to drink before we start? Coffee?" She had something of an addiction.

What's your rush? (For Joss)

the sun has set about an hour ago, but Laura was still out. She'd had a few errands to run before returning to her small flat for a glass of wine and a smoke before grading homework. Best way to do it, maybe with some trashy Housewives tv show on in the background.

really, that's all she was thinking about as she made her way through the neighborhood, purse over one shoulder, bags in hand. She should have been paying better attention to her surroundings, but all she was really thinking about was just how comfortable her slippers we're going to be when she walked through her front door.

write your own! or grab me for a starter.
longterm: (9 copy)
[personal profile] longterm
The meeting between Cesare and Samantha had gone well. Surprisingly well. Cesare had promised her money for her centre, some large donations had been made and now all that was left was seeing how Samantha felt about the deal.

Not intending to waste time, Cesare sends Samantha a text the morning the payment goes through: Dinner? -C . Normally he would sign off with both of his initials, but he thinks now is a time to invite Samantha to be on first name terms with him, if she would like.

He invites Samantha to dinner in his hotel, in a half power move, half attempt to give them some privacy. It would be unfortunate if the two of them were seen together and rumours started. As such, they're in a private dining room with their own set of waitstaff.

Their conversation goes well and Cesare enjoys it, but they don't talk business. It's only when the two of them are sipping their nightcaps, looking over the night view of London that Cesare finally mentions something.

"So have you thought about my offer?"
morevacant: (Default)
[personal profile] morevacant
It's the lunch time after the night before, and Lydia is nursing a champagne hangover. She keeps her sunglasses on even in the little cafe she's tucked away as she nurses a strong coffee.What a stupid night. Lydia's dreading seeing the papers. Although the incident with Samantha was minor, and the woman perfectly polite, Lydia sees it differently. In her mind, it's a massive blow. It's like she's been rejected, a little bit, from the best society.
Feelings hurt, she's text Nancy to meet her. Nancy listens. And Lydia loves to be indulged.

She pulls out her phone and texts Nancy.

'Hurry up. So much to tell you! MWAH! xx'
moralabsolutism: (Movie Double Indemnity)
[personal profile] moralabsolutism
[Catch-all for Shade's characters! Specific starters in the comments. If you want anything with either Cooper or Rorschach, PM me or let me know at [plurk.com profile] Light_shade!]
longterm: (6 copy)
[personal profile] longterm
It had all been a surprising coincidence. Cesare had merely been chatting about the political climate as he always did, when he mentioned Natasha in passing. Someone happened to know about Natasha. Know a lot, in fact. And eventually, as more drinks were poured and they had some discussions, so did Cesare.

Now, part of Cesare thinks he should keep this information to himself. After all, he might need it at some point. But another part of him, the more persuasive part, is too tempted to watch Natasha squirm. She's always been so composed and stoic. Cesare is curious to find out if, all in good fun, he can make that facade crack.

He invites her to afternoon drinks, as he's grown accustomed to doing. (After all, it's always helpful to keep the door to fellow vampires open when they've chosen to sit on the wrong side). For Natasha at least, it seems like any other day.

"How have you been?" he asks politely, standing when she enters because he's a gentleman like that. And also because he's old as sin.
thelittlemerman: (Default)
[personal profile] thelittlemerman
It's after careful deliberation that Finnick decides he's going to track down the well-known Seelie fae Mrs. Lotus. He hopes he can find her along with the rest of the kidnapped fae and cut off that source of Daybreak's power before it's too late, but it's going to take some investigation...

multiple prompts within! )
knowntohisfriends: (Default)
[personal profile] knowntohisfriends
[Fagin made it very clear that celebrating Easter was not for him. Bringing in chocolate eggs and other sweets? No, not for him at all, but all for his boys, his good boys who did the work he asked them. Easter wasn't his holiday - though it can't be said that Fagin recognized the Passover all that well either, for as much as he would proclaim Easter was his treat to them.]

[Still... least the chocolate's alright.]
baisant: (Default)
[personal profile] baisant
Jean-Claude sits in the office of Guilty Pleasures, staring down at the account book laid before him on the desk. He is usually a lot more productive than he finds himself at such a time as this, but the air in the room is somewhat oppressive with the weight of time and memory that he feels bearing down on him, and he finds it difficult to concentrate on much of anything for long periods of time. The city is in turmoil over this business with the witches and the fae, and the wolves have begun causing trouble of their own.

He has made decrees of his own in response to these problems -- all vampires sympathetic to the Daybreak cause are to be expelled from the Nest. And the wolves? Well, since they were going about killing any vampire on sight that set foot in East End Pack territory, Jean-Claude made his own declaration in return. Any werewolf caught trespassing will be subject to punishment of that vampire's choice. He does not want an all-out bloodbath on his hands, to decree that they might kill on sight in return would be downright foolhardy. But he cannot let this go either. Perhaps he should have thought things through more, but he had been a bit preoccupied of late.

And that preoccupation had everything to do with the new portrait hanging on the wall above his couch. New, in the sense that it had not been there before, but definitely not new in age. Oil on canvas, painted over five hundred years ago, depicting three people dressed in the style of the 1600's. The woman wears white and silver with a square bodice showing quite a bit of decolletage, her brown hair styled in careful ringlets, with a red rose held loosely in one hand. A man stands behind her, tall and slender, with dark gold hair in ringlets over his shoulders. He has a mustache and a Vandyke beard, so dark gold they are nearly brown. On his head he wears a large floppy hat with feathers, his entire outfit of white and gold. It is the third that the onlooker will recognize. Seated just behind the woman, dressed in black with silver embroidery and a wide lace collar and cuffs, he too has his own wide-brimmed floppy hat, with a single quite feather and a silver buckle, this one black. Though he does not wear it, instead resting it across his lap. His black hair falls in ringlets across his shoulders, and his face is clean-shaven, his eyes strikingly blue even despite the medium. The other two depicted are smiling, but the third man -- Jean-Claude -- is solemn. A darkness to their light.

Jean-Claude does not know why Belle decided to send this painting to him. He has not gathered the courage in himself to ask, just yet. Neither has he gathered the courage to do anything with it but hang the piece on his wall. It is a reminder of what feels now as if a different life. He should have known, as the portrait artist had done, that he would bring a darkness in their lives. These two people he had cherished the most in all the world. Julianna. Asher. How happy they had been...

He pushes himself back from the desk with a sigh, feeling their gazes heavy upon himself. He will get no work done on this night. Perhaps he should take a turn about the floor of the club instead. Though he doubts that will do much to lighten his mood.

[ooc: feel free to visit him being maudlin in his office, or as he mopes around on the floor, or perhaps once he has found himself a corner of the bar and a glass of wine to nurse as well! c: ]
undergroundmods: (Default)
[personal profile] undergroundmods

[The scavenger hunt is closed to those characters who signed up, but the rest of this event is open to everyone! Feel free to mingle. If you have any questions about the event, please ask here.]
falsify: (pic#9304259)
[personal profile] falsify
Well, here they are again. Eames doesn't want the dismal borough, but it's their best route into the city, and the best way to disrupt Daybreak. It's only going to be fuel for Samantha's fire, but at this stage does he have it in him to care?

It's a quick and quiet operation, enough fae who remember the borough from before Daybreak took it to know where the best places to set up magical protections and suchforth are. The 10th & 11th Sees various fae scoping out the area, but not much else. Always in pairs at least for worry of coming across a particularly arrogant or powerful witch, but otherwise they're here solely to take notes. Make sure they're right about where things are placed, where covens meet, which establishments are witch-run.

Come the 12th, they attack. Fast and targeted, under instruction to avoid bloodshed where possible but not to allow themselves or any other fae to be hurt or tricked for their mercy. There's a precedent Eames wants to maintain, that his violence only comes in full force when he's threatened, but he doesn't want to allow Samantha and her ilk the chance at any more power. The attacking fae move with the intent of pushing the witches out, away from any magical strongholds so their seals can easily be undone.

The 13th & 14th are spent on securing the area, breaking witch seals and replacing them with those of fae, setting up patrols where they border against Daybreak boroughs. Witch-owned businesses are allowed to stay, but under a watchful eye. Otherwise it's a quiet day, celebrations are sedate affairs of glamorous meals and expensive wine rather than the full-on parties the fae are well-known for. It's just hard to feel more than a moment to breathe in the aftermath.
stauncherhearted: (thx for knowing to refill my wine glass)
[personal profile] stauncherhearted
It started as an absolutely routine trip to the store. Nancy'd ducked into her nearest magic shop, looking to replenish a few of her supplies. You could never have enough candles or sage, after all. With a small basket tucked under her arm, she'd picked up a few different items, looking at new herbs and books on charms. She almost didn't notice him- but when it was almost too late she noticed his soft, dirty-blonde hair. 

As soon as she saw it, she knew who it was. It was the boy- Joss, Cooper had told her- the one she had taken in after she'd found him. A child vampire, she'd been heartbroken for him, though Cooper alleged he'd truly been over six-hundred-years-old. She could hardly believe it, and honestly it was the very last thing on her mind when she saw him. She'd spent hours imagining where he was, hoping he was okay after he'd run out of her apartment. To her, he'd been a sweet, lost boy, not some old, cruel man.

But isn't that how it always went?

"Joss!" She called, and immediately ran over to him, wrapping her arms around his small shoulders. "You're alright!" 


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