Soeki Halloway-Crowe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crowedthedead) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-03-11 12:20 am
crowedthedead) wrote in undergrounds2016-03-11 12:20 am
Entry tags:
[open] I paint the ceiling so that nobody knows
I. Daytime: A DIY print shop
Oh for fuck's sake- [Behold and witness the man in his twenties, dressed in a nice, tame suit and tie in the middle of the day, throwing a mini-tantrum at a copier. He jabs at a few buttons angrily, and it spits out another sheet of paper - one that he's apparently not pleased with, from the way he scans it with his eyes and then tears it into bits.] Come on, how hard is it to make you print two-sided?
[It spits out another - one-sided - piece of paper, and Soeki Crowe frowns again at the copier.]
The family's going to kill me, you know. It's going to be all your fault. And you won't even print memorial folders for my funeral, I bet. [He's trying to get memorial folders printed last-minute for a funeral. Even witches like him, though he's not immediately obvious as one, need to have day jobs. Maybe lend him a hand? Or tell him he's talking to the copier out loud. He'd probably appreciate that.]
II. Daytime: A book shop
[And what does he spend the money from his day job on? Well, besides rent and groceries, the usual necessities, he mostly spends it on books. This shop in particular specializes in old, rare, or hard to find books, and he likes to check out the selection. He knows for a fact that one of the families he helped with a funeral for sold their loved one's old library to this shop, and there's always a chance that he'll stumble upon something good.
Something magical.
Soeki is dressed down after work in jeans and a hoodie, smelling faintly of incense and browsing the shelves with single-minded determination. He traces the spines with a fingertip as he moves down the rows of musty books, inhaling the sweet scent of old paper. He used to do this with his dad, in Manchester, the two of them relentlessly hunting through antique stores and bookstores for a hint of something magical. They didn't succeed all that often, but he still enjoys the search.
Maybe he bumps into you, not looking where he's going, or maybe you catch him leaning into a bin of un-sorted books, practically falling in. Or maybe he's reaching for the same book you are, and unlike in a romcom meet-cute, instead of seeming embarrassed or shy, he looks a little territorial.]
III. Nighttime: Guilty Pleasures
[Some would say a witch in vampire territory is flirting with danger - but really, Soeki is mostly flirting with the bartender. It seemed like a decent idea at the time, to come out and see the sights, get the lay of London. He hadn't done that when he first came into town a couple years ago, had kept his head down and worried more about settling into some semblance of a life. He'd been good.
He's tired of being good.
Soeki leans back in his seat, appreciatively watching one of the male dancers on stage in-between periods spent watching the room. If you care to approach him, he'll probably smile - earnest, somehow, more than leering or lecherous, and say,] Buy you a drink?
IV. Nighttime: Tesco
[The midnight munchies hit hard. It's more like two am, and surprisingly, he's not even high, he's just hungry, and... well, it had slipped his mind to go grocery shopping at a normal hour in the last week. Easy enough mistake to make. He'd looked up the nearest 24 hour store that still sells liquor, and he's browsing the aisles casually, in sweatpants and a hoodie. His trolley is full of junk food and easy meals - crisps, cereal, a few candy bars, beer, frozen dinners, pasta.
He stops in produce, eyeing displays of vegetables with that sort of tired, 2 am, why am I awake kind of consideration.] To be an adult and buy a vegetable or not to, that is the question.
V. Any time: Wildcard
[Hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
nekky if none of these prompts work, we can figure something else out!]
Oh for fuck's sake- [Behold and witness the man in his twenties, dressed in a nice, tame suit and tie in the middle of the day, throwing a mini-tantrum at a copier. He jabs at a few buttons angrily, and it spits out another sheet of paper - one that he's apparently not pleased with, from the way he scans it with his eyes and then tears it into bits.] Come on, how hard is it to make you print two-sided?
[It spits out another - one-sided - piece of paper, and Soeki Crowe frowns again at the copier.]
The family's going to kill me, you know. It's going to be all your fault. And you won't even print memorial folders for my funeral, I bet. [He's trying to get memorial folders printed last-minute for a funeral. Even witches like him, though he's not immediately obvious as one, need to have day jobs. Maybe lend him a hand? Or tell him he's talking to the copier out loud. He'd probably appreciate that.]
II. Daytime: A book shop
[And what does he spend the money from his day job on? Well, besides rent and groceries, the usual necessities, he mostly spends it on books. This shop in particular specializes in old, rare, or hard to find books, and he likes to check out the selection. He knows for a fact that one of the families he helped with a funeral for sold their loved one's old library to this shop, and there's always a chance that he'll stumble upon something good.
Something magical.
Soeki is dressed down after work in jeans and a hoodie, smelling faintly of incense and browsing the shelves with single-minded determination. He traces the spines with a fingertip as he moves down the rows of musty books, inhaling the sweet scent of old paper. He used to do this with his dad, in Manchester, the two of them relentlessly hunting through antique stores and bookstores for a hint of something magical. They didn't succeed all that often, but he still enjoys the search.
Maybe he bumps into you, not looking where he's going, or maybe you catch him leaning into a bin of un-sorted books, practically falling in. Or maybe he's reaching for the same book you are, and unlike in a romcom meet-cute, instead of seeming embarrassed or shy, he looks a little territorial.]
III. Nighttime: Guilty Pleasures
[Some would say a witch in vampire territory is flirting with danger - but really, Soeki is mostly flirting with the bartender. It seemed like a decent idea at the time, to come out and see the sights, get the lay of London. He hadn't done that when he first came into town a couple years ago, had kept his head down and worried more about settling into some semblance of a life. He'd been good.
He's tired of being good.
Soeki leans back in his seat, appreciatively watching one of the male dancers on stage in-between periods spent watching the room. If you care to approach him, he'll probably smile - earnest, somehow, more than leering or lecherous, and say,] Buy you a drink?
IV. Nighttime: Tesco
[The midnight munchies hit hard. It's more like two am, and surprisingly, he's not even high, he's just hungry, and... well, it had slipped his mind to go grocery shopping at a normal hour in the last week. Easy enough mistake to make. He'd looked up the nearest 24 hour store that still sells liquor, and he's browsing the aisles casually, in sweatpants and a hoodie. His trolley is full of junk food and easy meals - crisps, cereal, a few candy bars, beer, frozen dinners, pasta.
He stops in produce, eyeing displays of vegetables with that sort of tired, 2 am, why am I awake kind of consideration.] To be an adult and buy a vegetable or not to, that is the question.
V. Any time: Wildcard
[Hit me up at
no subject
It's 2 AM, the night's already over. [She gave him a wry look.] I'm getting ready to turn in. Been out since the sun went down.
[Which makes her sound like a vampire, she's well-aware.]
no subject
[He should be getting to bed, he's got a noon funeral to prepare for tomorrow bright and early, but, well. He's a creature of habit.
He offers a hand.] Soeki Crowe.
no subject
[Some nights, sure. London just liked to shut pretty much everything down after midnight. It was rubbish.]
Nancy Fagin, [she says, taking his hand.] Nice t'meet you.