undergrounds | It was a ball, it was a blast (OPEN)

A: Library

Kenzi has been a busy little bee as of late - something that has gotten her a sizable hill of cash. (She doesn't do banks. Not when people like her are around to steal innocent folks identities.) However, for all her success, Kenzi has yet to find the goose what laid the golden egg.

Figuratively. Or maybe literally? She doesn't know yet. All she knows is that when Barnet was taken over and Jenny from the block's stuff became hers, she found a page of a book. At first she didn't think it was anything worth taking - but it was old, the writing almost like Old English, and therefore worth a quick glance.

What she saw there made her stuff it in her bra and wait until she was home to read it more thoroughly. It was torn from a spell book of some kind, that much was clear. One made by a Circle Midnight witch, by a Circle Midnight witch if what little she could read was any indication. The page told her that this book - wherever it was - could help her summon a Fae long before she was technically powerful enough to do it on her own.

Not that she was alone now. But she wasn't about to pull Nancy into her mess, and Abigail might have been their merry band's leader - but it didn't mean she trusted her beyond that role.

So Kenzi was trying to do some research.

It was a pretty amazing place in Kenzi's opinion. The British Library was near the King's Cross station, which didn't make it hard to find. And while the more accessible public areas were fantastic for the collections they had, what Kenzi wanted was in the basement. Specifically the basement below the basement. It was no secret in the supernatural community that the person in charge of the downstairs was...something else. Nobody knew exactly what. Some people suspected they were a dragon wearing human form, and that their hoard was more books than gold. The specifics of the rumors eluded her, but she wasn't here to learn about the owner.

The sub-basement was dank and musty, the lighting in the hallway was sparse and covering the rows and rows of books was floor to ceiling wire gates. Spell books were scattered among their ranks, and the feeling of old power leaking from the racks of books was heady. Whether or not they were white or black spells, Kenzi didn't care.

There was a good-sized room hidden behind the books with a thick oak table and four mismatched chairs of assorted fabrics and wear. It took her an hour or so to start picking out the oldest looking books and placing them on the table.

B: Tarot

Once again on Portobello, Kenzi has her fortune telling stall open for business. Her working name is printed on the cards she hands out from her stall as Madam Czigany - palms, runes and tarot readings. Everyone on the street knows her as the blond hippy Russian who was way too into wiccan stuff. They didn't know she was an actual witch, and they didn't need to. Neither did her customers, as far as she was concerned. It wasn't as if they cared.

Kenzi waited patiently under her covered booth at the table, alternatively smoothing out the thinning shawl she'd placed on top to cover the stains on the plastic top and shuffling her cards. People ate up this gimmick, so she wasn't anxious.

C: Stealing from a Dead Woman (a...again.)

Kenzi had a cousin (she has a lot of cousins doesn't she?) who used to work at the Kitterick hotel where Carmilla had kept herself, before it had become the decrepit mess it was now. When Anton (her cousin) told her suddenly the power was back on and that a bunch of people had been seen coming and going from the penthouse floor up until a few days ago - Kenzi figured she could at least start watching it and scoping out the place to see if she could maybe make a profit. (This is open to interaction!)

Once she realized that nobody was coming back to the place, Kenzi decided to call her very best friend - and the only other person interested in making some money this way that she knew right now.

The vampire's attendents had abandoned all of Carmilla's valuable and beautiful things in the penthouse and where ever the finery was, Kenzi only saw a profit to be made. She rented a truck to park in the loading bay of the hotel's kitchen, so as to transport things like the curtains and creepy chair with a little less effort. Though she didn't have any preliminary security set up to warn her of when someone might stumble upon their work, Kenzi had some nasty little spells ready to go if she needed to fight someone off.

She was also armed with her keen lies as well.

D: W-W-WILDCARD!!!

Make up your own if you feel up to it!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well he will take that as a compliment, then! He is very pretty, though she'd probably not easily convince him to become one of the flashy decorations scattered around her flat. After the night is through, she probably wouldn't want him to, anyway.

He's disappointed by the whiskey. Why did nobody ever have rum? Oh, well, he takes it anyway. It's still alcoholic, that's the most important part. He takes the glass and steps closer, spare hand finding the small of her back to draw her closer. The drink is second to the reason he's here, which unfortunately for her, is not her ever-so-charming company.

"You'd really leave me thinking of an old woman in that, darling?" He tsked lowly. "I think you'd look far better in it." Which, yes, was most certainly a hint. He's still trying to convince her out of the room, and luckily for him, lechery is still loud and strong in modern day London. It seemed quite a brilliant excuse.

Kenzi smiles coyly in his grasp and her hands easily climb up to his shoulders to simply rest there. This was a lot more fun than she had thought. For a moment, Kenzi wished she was a little more sober - but it wasn't like she needed to be. Besides, she'd remember everything about tonight.

"Pushy. If you wanna play dress-up you should say so."

She bites down on her lower lip in what she thinks is a flirty manner and slips out of his grasp slowly before sashaying over to the mannequin. Somehow she manages to make the disrobing sexual and drapes it over her arm before walking backwards into her bathroom.

"Make yourself at home."

The door only goes partially closed - but it's enough. Hope you're quick Killian.

She might appreciate the idea she's not quite sober later. She is far from the first he's stolen from, and he imagines it's better to fall back on an excuse. It wouldn't have happened if she had her wits about her, though most assuredly it would have. This is just easier on both of them, really... And as far as he's concerned, she can remember all she wants. It's not likely they'll run into each other again.

"I'll be waiting," he promises in a low drawl that quite replicates the idea he's trying to present. It's very easy for him to convince someone that he wants them. He almost forgets what wanting someone really feels like, in moments like this, when he makes it mechanical instead of genuine. He watches her head to the door, already eyeing where he has to go and how fast he has to do it before she'll be back again.

Luckily for him, he is quite fast. Being a vampire had taken more than it had granted, but what it did grant was quite convenient. He's here for an old tome with detailed lineages, and he gets that, but why not take some of the shiny, sparkling things she's got scattered about, too? He's a pirate, damnit, that's what he's meant for. He doesn't say anything, doesn't call out to keep her distracted—when he hears her opening the door he's heading out the front, armed with what he came for, so fast it's nearly impossible to see.

She won't be pleased, he's sure. Stealing from a lady doesn't exactly seem like good form, but, compared to what someone else from the nest might have done? She's nearly lucky.

It was a ball, it was a blast (OPEN)

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