TWO ( Arthur's not a guy who hangs out at a bar alone for an hour by choice. )
[Please hit me up if you'd like a different situation!]
( The Curious Incident of the Vampire in the Nighttime )
B. We don't Want no Education
( We Don't Want No Education )
Feel free to make your own starter, or PM me and I can set up one specifically for you!
( Your power is over - Covent Garden, Camden, Night Council Territory )
2. Tower Bridge, Southwark, Islington Nest territory
( I've come to change the order - Tower Bridge, Southwark, Islington Nest territory )
3. Greenwich Park, Greenwich, Disputed territory
( I'm Back, Again - Greenwich Park, Greenwich, Disputed territory )
(Or feel free to add a wildcard start! The Nogitsune is a roamer and not especially caring who's territory he's in. Good with prose or brackets)
Food, drinks, and music will be provided.
All are welcome, but individuals are to be aware that any hostilities during the evening's festivities will not be tolerated.
It is the first time in at least a generation that the doors of Geap Manor have been opened to the general population. Or, at least, as general as the supernatural community could be considered. Some invitiations were made personally, but most were formally sent to the higher ranking members of the various factions.
Dinner is announced precisely at 19:30. The small, intimate eating area for the family has been turned into a buffet room. The caterers Abigail hired have obviously been paid well to make sure there is something for everyone. Rich meat dishes, hearty vegetarian dishes, light fish dishes, plenty of accompaniments and finger food. There is also plenty of fairly fresh blood for vampires. For the others, there are wines, water, and tea available.
The grand dining room has had its large table removed, replaced, instead, by small tables that can comfortably hold four. They can, of course, be pushed together to allow for more room.
The ballroom is open to the guests, and the DJ has also been highly paid to make sure the music played is precisely to the hostess's tastes. There is plenty of modern music, good for dancing, as well as older classics. However, interspersed are classical pieces meant for waltzes and foxtrots and other such ballroom dances.
In the sitting room is a drink cart with wine, tea, water, and blood. Chairs and divans are available, as the room is a quiet place, a little away from the ballroom, so conversation can be had with ease. There is an unlit fireplace, and a portrait of Abigail a few years younger than she is now hangs above it.
Most of the rest of the house is locked. One can wander the hallways, but it may prove ultimately fruitless. One who simply walks up the stairways will find the walls of each lined with the Widdowson family portraits of every generation, starting with one of a ten-year-old Abby, her parents, and her six-year-old brother. As one takes in all the paintings, a pattern presents itself. Every Widdowson woman featured is pale, thin, and blonde.
The grounds are beautifully maintained and fenced in by wrought iron on top of stone. A very traditional look for such an imposing manor. On the path from the street to the house, there's little remarkable, save the knocker on the door. Behind the house, however, if one ventures away, one might get the keen sense of something from inside the house watching, waiting, and hungering. On the ground floor, the locked rooms are mostly unremarkable, save for the study at the back of the house. Linger too long near there, and one might hear a sound coming in a pattering set. It isn't a knock against the door, no. Instead, it is the sound of something hitting the wall. If someone were to force their way into the nursery on the second floor or the attic several stories up... Well. They likely won't be coming back to the party. Or to anything.
Wandering, of course, isn't a suggested enterprise. The old house doesn't like people poking around and trying to find its secrets.
(Everyone who has at least a familiarity with the supernatural is welcome, as the invitations were distributed widely. Mingle, make your own top comments, enjoy the food, etc!)
The Seelie King and Queen were present, though distanced from the rest of the revellers -- and quite a few revellers there were. Men and women with petals in their hair, clothes of vibrant silk and satin, and a rainbow of rare feathers and gems. Some looked human, some looked animal. Some, such as in the case of a well-dressed gentleman with skin like birch bark, looked like none of the above.
The only negative thing about his promotion was that Heiji really only had a select few people he could even tell about it -- mention you weren't really a human in casual conversation, see how long till you ended up under psychiatric evaluation. Still, Heiji could hardly conceal his good mood. Thus he had rewarded himself with the latest moderately detective-themed airplane novel by a decent writer that he could find, and was rapidly making his way through it on the train, in the park, wherever.
"I dunno. I can understand likin' a writer a lot. I don't see why anyone would commit murder because of it, though. Ain't that goin' a little too far?"
B: I've just had a little fae experience
Provided they slipped through just the right set of trees, someone might just find the rest of London fade away -- the noise of traffic, the noise of the crowd. Dense forest would press in from all sides, but a stone walkway would lead up below a long row of brightly-painted red wooden gates of some ceremonial significance.
At the top of the stone steps: a small shrine, with two guardian fox statues on either side. How curious...
C Other! Open to suggestions and such; Heiji will also just be outright barging into the personal space of whoever he's friendly with and starting up conversations during the month, so that's a thing, too.
Kenzi and Jennifer weren't friends by any stretch of the word. Acquaintances was a closer definition but even then, they didn't run in the same circles. The only reason she even knew Jennifer was the girl found dead in Barnet was she might... be following police intel. For a friend.
It was weird for her to be doing something that wasn't outright for her own self interest but it was shockingly helpful. After all, once she heard the description of the Jane Doe it was only a matter of time before her research and connections (however small they might be) told her one thing.
Jennifer - a Circle Midnight witch - was dead, killed by someone invested in the Redbright takeover in Barnet. Kenzi hoped that nobody from Circle Daybreak, The Night Council, or any vampires would go where Jennifer lived and take things. She didn't think they'd be that stupid - or that smart.
So Kenzi went in the morning, when everyone was headed to work and acted as if she knew exactly what she was doing. Confidence would get you access to more things than fake badges. But she had one of those too just in case.
It would be a tough sell, though. Considering she was wearing stiletto leather boots that went all the way up to her thighs, and had green threaded through her very black hair. Not a cop, by any stretch.
But that didn't stop her from breaking the seal of tape and touching her little wooden key-chain to the door. There was the tell-tale click of locks being undone, by the sound of how many there were - it seemed like Jennifer either had something pretty valuable inside or was super paranoid.
Well, she did get murdered after all. Maybe she wasn't so paranoid.
Kenzi spends a good portion of her time frame that she allowed herself roaming around the apartment and stuffing things she wants into her backpack. Hey, Jennifer wasn't going to be using them anymore. Might as well make sure they stayed out of Redbright's hands in the meantime. A few books for magic, almost all her jewelry and her little black contact book that had all the phone numbers a witch could ask for.
Maybe there was something important in there?
Kenzi is leaving the apartment with her backpack filled to the brim and going straight for her car.
B: Portobello Road - Friday
It was a cheap gimmick, and something that usually only got the stupid people and tourists interested - but that was what she wanted. It was easy to fleece someone who was too busy listening to what she was saying about how fascinating their life line was to notice her lifting their watch or hand jewelry. And it didn't hurt that she asked for 16 quid before even speaking to them.
"Ladies and gentlemen, don't be shy. Come, see what the future has in store for you and your loved ones!"
She had a little stall on the market road, something her cousin had hooked her up with. It was all decked out in exactly what you would expect from a Russian fortune teller, except she was about fifty years too young to make it especially hokey.
Kenzi was dressed like a hippy. Not a scrap of black on her, and her make-up was done so as to look as natural and flower-child-y as possible. To top it off, she was wearing an ashy blonde wig with some stuff woven into the hair.
She might also be selling knockoff charms to normal people. They're in the approximation of the real charms that she makes, but they're completely useless. Still, a witch or someone who knows her work might recognize them.
C: Late Night Munchies
There was a plus to living in London. There was always something open and ready to serve you greasy, disgusting food. Which was exactly what Kenzi wanted late at night after working in her shop all day long. She might just be making Day and Moonlight Jewelry and other little charms and sundry items that she sells to people who want them, but she is only one witch. And that means constantly flexing her magical muscles for a whole day makes her exhausted, and starving too.
She's sitting inside a little pizza place, whose front of house is so small they only have room for a counter to order at and chairs along the walls and front windows to sit at while you wait for your food.
Kenzi is dicking around on her phone when suddenly, her nose starts to bleed. Yet another lovely side affect of not having a coven.
Make your own up if you feel up to it!
She wandered Lewisham and Greenwich mainly, knowing the areas were hot spots for activity and wanting to stretch her muscles. There were silver bullets in the magazine of her Sig Sauer, tucked safely away in its shoulder holster beneath her jacket. There were a couple wooden bolts in her back pocket, a knife in her combat boots, and a roll of gauze in the inside pocket of her coat. She liked to be prepared.
Ringer was distracted by the soft glow of a lantern outside a picturesque home as she rounded onto the next street, nearly - or literally - running smack into whoever might be coming the other way. She immediately withdrew and scrambled to regain her bearings, offering an apologetic expression in the hopes it might be some simple Londoner who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Are you okay?"
There was a noise not far away, the next street over, and Ringer wasted no time in seeking it out. Perhaps it was simply a cat jumping on a trash can, but it was as likely some asshole monster causing trouble. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Whatever the case, she drew her 9mmm and held it down at her side, mostly concealing it to the casual observer as she came up on the area. One wrong move and the source of the noise might find the barrel facing in their direction.
[Anything else! Feel free to write a prompt or message me with ideas.]
A Just another Saturday night out, Nancy's lips painted blood red and staining the side of her low-ball glass. Her legs are crossed at the ankles, black pumps and fishnets on full display under her short leather skirt. It's a night out, another night working. People around here knew who she was, what she offered. It was easier in supernatural bars, Nancy knew, to find vampires looking for a feeding, or even just a john wanting some company.
She props an elbow up on the bar, and looks down the the way, eyes peeled for any familiar, or unfamiliar, face. She'll just try not to think about how great it would be to be watching Netflix right now instead of work.
B Do you believe in fate, baby, ask me, ask me, the music played in her earbuds as Nancy jogged in place at a cross-walk. Trainers on her feet and hair pulled up in a pony-tail, she was doing her usual exercise routine. Always good to be fast on your feet, she'd learned as a child, and running was a great way to keep that up. Even if she had ways to get away, her feet were still just as important.
Besides, there was something relaxing about running, she'd found. She could shove the world away and concentrate on the music and running and the city. She'd found her way down to the Thames, and was running on the paths near it, past youths with skateboards and graffiti'd walls, business men grabbing a bite to eat right outside the Globe. It was astounding the way the culture and history blended together so seamlessly. She'd never get over that.
The light turned green, and on she ran.
C Choose your own! Private starters in the comments.
Regardless, upon stepping inside you'll find no one named Harvey on the property at all. Instead there's a surly young man behind the counter, someone who looks both tired and wholly too alert at the same time, armed with a thermos of coffee, a stack of manuals on fixing god knows what, and a book of Gaelic poetry.
Maybe you're just perusing the shelves, minding your own business, when you hear a voice from the till: "Loitering's prohibited. There's a sign outside that says so. If you need something specific, ask." Rude tactic but you'd be amazed at how much product Sasuke can move out of this place by being pushy.
Maybe instead you were lured in by the sign in the window that advertises a 'buy one get one free' deal on all items of equivalent value in the store. Maybe you even went so far as to ask about the promotion. The answer?
"That sign is from 2009. The guy that worked here before me glued it on instead of affixing it normally. The boss found out last year when he tried to remove it, and that's why he isn't here anymore." All that to say... "That deal's invalid. No discounts."
Or maybe you're just here to ask for recommendations or buy some hardware. Up to you! Feel free to message me if you have something specific in mind that you want set up.
My family has recently suffered a great misfortune, of whose exact manner I am loathe to discuss by letter. An acquaintance of mine suggested that your law offices may be able to provide some remedy. I pray that this is the case.
Enclosed are instructions to the family estate. I hope you will forgive me for this impersonal manner of address, but if you can at all find it within your heart to lend an ear to my troubles, you would have my eternal gratitude. I shall be waiting for your visit on the date provided.
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