laυra roѕlιn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cabins) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2017-04-28 05:00 pm
cabins) wrote in undergrounds2017-04-28 05:00 pm
Entry tags:
ex-pat expeditions (open)
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.
Wait.
“…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.
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.
Wait.
“…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.
no subject
He's promised to be good and not kill any humans while Jean-Claude sorts things out, but it's very hard. It's not just getting fresh blood--Islington Nest being on the ascendant means that there's no end to willing donors lately--it's the thrill of the chase, the fun of closing in on his quarry, and now that he's on the wagon he can't play with his food like he used to. It's frightfully dull now. Maybe it's time for a holiday, a trip over to the Continent where he won't have to worry about minding his P's and Q's and can engage in a bit of good, old-fashioned mayhem for a change. Surely Jean-Claude wouldn't begrudge him that.
He smiles as he walks through the streets one evening, imagining the fun he could have and wondering how Bruges has changed since his last visit in the mid-1850s. Quite a bit, probably. There'd been a fellow child vampire there, a pretty girl named Agnes with golden curls and a kill count that rivaled his own. Maybe he'll look her up and see if she's still alive...
An unpleasant smell cuts into his reverie. He looks up sharply, trying to find the source. A wolf. He knows he's practically in wolf territory right now, but they're close enough to Islington territory that there shouldn't be any werewolves in this area. Joscelin grins. He swore not to kill humans, but made no such promises about the wolves.
"Careful," he teases, sidling up close to the preoccupied woman. "Let me help you with those bags."
no subject
The second the boy speaks, she knows what he is. She can smell him. "Oh, I'm quite alright," she says, keeping her voice as neutral as possible. But they both knew what the other was.
"But thank you for the offer, young man."
no subject
Joscelin pulls on a strap and breaks it, sending groceries spilling into the street. "Oh dear. How clumsy of me. Here, allow me to gather up your things and see you home."
This is fun. Poor little wolf, so far from her pack. Don't worry. Joss will take care of you.
no subject
"That's quite alright," she repeats. "I'm not far. I can walk myself. I'd like to thank you for your help." Now leave. Please. Get out.
no subject
"Or are they your pack? You don't sound local. An American Werewolf in London. How terribly cliche."
no subject
"They're my pack." She says. "And they know when to expect me by. They'll come looking, if I'm not home."
no subject
"Shall I send you back to them? Piece by piece?"
no subject
"I bid you good night." She moves to leave.
no subject
no subject
"I appreciate the offer- but I insist. I can carry it myself. Thank you."