[open] Vampire Ball - May 26th (backdated)
Jun. 3rd, 2017 12:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
The invitations go out a week in advance. Some of which are hand written (ink on parchment, of course), to those of whom he wishes to see personally, though of course they are welcome to bring guests. The more the merrier, or so the saying goes. Especially in the case of such an event as this. Jean-Claude is vying for the spot of President of the Night Council, after all, and while the event is not technically connected to the election, timing is everything, mes amis. And what an event it is.
The instructions on the invitation are quite simple. There is to be a ball. But not just any ball, a Vampire Ball. If you are a vampire, an ally, or interested in becoming both, you are more than welcome to attend. It is a night to celebrate the collective history of the Nest of London. Formal historical costume is a requirement of attendance. Masks will be allowed as well, though the event is technically not a masquerade. All wood and silver will be checked at the door, for this is a night of entertainment.

The event is being held in a private historic home, presumably for the atmosphere. In the foyer there is a coat check (along with wood and silver check, courtesy of Guilty Pleasure's well-loved bouncers). The guests are funneled through from there into the main ballroom, where yes, there is a live string quartet playing. How did Jean-Claude afford such decadence? It helps when you have lived for so long as he has and have had very little to spend money on besides clothes and decadence. It certainly couldn't be his own private residence -- could it?
Off to the side of the ballroom is an array of chaise lounges and other sofas and chairs, while on the other may be located several tables of refreshments. It is clearly indicated which table is intended for the vampires and which is for those who are still among the living. There is another bouncer posted on watch over the refreshments, and the punch in particular -- they need not have a repeat of the last time someone spiked their drinks in such a fashion after all. There is quite a selection of finger foods on the table for those who are so inclined to partake in such delicacies, and there are offers of champagne, wine, and punch for that table. There are finger foods on the other table as well, although not as many, and each one has an accompanying card indicating the donor's name and blood type, just in case you were wondering why they were for the vampires.
The house is of course bigger than the ballroom and the foyer, but few guests are allowed to venture up the front stairs or beyond the little hall to where the restrooms are located. That does not mean, of course, that there are not those who manage to sneak past the little corded ropes meant to keep such troublemakers within check, especially when the bouncers are otherwise preoccupied. There are all sorts of fun rooms to explore.
And so many costumes from so many eras! Guests are encouraged to talk amongst themselves and share memories of the good old days for those lived through them, or ask questions if there are curiosities from those who did not. Today is a golden age, Islington Nest is at its strongest yet, and it is a time to celebrate what it is to be Vampire. There is more to such a life than drinking blood and having fangs, a sophistication and experience beyond the hunger. If nothing else, Jean-Claude hopes to share this with the attendees on this evening.
Which at least manages to begin without a hitch, but if you should manage to stay for the end of the night, prepare for some fireworks to ensue. For what is a party without a little drama...
(ooc note: anyone is welcome to attend, though if you are anti-islington you will not get very far in the door before being turned away. certain allies/those who have helped jean-claude in the past will have received direct invitations, but there is a general buzz passed around the nest and islington allies ahead of time that will have spread through the supernatural community leading up to the day itself. as stated above, historical costume is a must -- vampires are encouraged to wear something from an era they lived through, though humans are welcome to whatever they desire! masks are fun so wear one if you like though there will be no anonymity here.
details will be in jean-claude's comment below, but his ex, asher, is going to be crashing the party at the end of the night, so if you're there for the end of the evening expect that as well. i will make a comment for asher as well on his own so you can tag with him before the main event if you decide you'd like to skip out on the fireworks as he and jean-claude butt heads for the first time in hundreds of years.)
The instructions on the invitation are quite simple. There is to be a ball. But not just any ball, a Vampire Ball. If you are a vampire, an ally, or interested in becoming both, you are more than welcome to attend. It is a night to celebrate the collective history of the Nest of London. Formal historical costume is a requirement of attendance. Masks will be allowed as well, though the event is technically not a masquerade. All wood and silver will be checked at the door, for this is a night of entertainment.

The event is being held in a private historic home, presumably for the atmosphere. In the foyer there is a coat check (along with wood and silver check, courtesy of Guilty Pleasure's well-loved bouncers). The guests are funneled through from there into the main ballroom, where yes, there is a live string quartet playing. How did Jean-Claude afford such decadence? It helps when you have lived for so long as he has and have had very little to spend money on besides clothes and decadence. It certainly couldn't be his own private residence -- could it?
Off to the side of the ballroom is an array of chaise lounges and other sofas and chairs, while on the other may be located several tables of refreshments. It is clearly indicated which table is intended for the vampires and which is for those who are still among the living. There is another bouncer posted on watch over the refreshments, and the punch in particular -- they need not have a repeat of the last time someone spiked their drinks in such a fashion after all. There is quite a selection of finger foods on the table for those who are so inclined to partake in such delicacies, and there are offers of champagne, wine, and punch for that table. There are finger foods on the other table as well, although not as many, and each one has an accompanying card indicating the donor's name and blood type, just in case you were wondering why they were for the vampires.
The house is of course bigger than the ballroom and the foyer, but few guests are allowed to venture up the front stairs or beyond the little hall to where the restrooms are located. That does not mean, of course, that there are not those who manage to sneak past the little corded ropes meant to keep such troublemakers within check, especially when the bouncers are otherwise preoccupied. There are all sorts of fun rooms to explore.
And so many costumes from so many eras! Guests are encouraged to talk amongst themselves and share memories of the good old days for those lived through them, or ask questions if there are curiosities from those who did not. Today is a golden age, Islington Nest is at its strongest yet, and it is a time to celebrate what it is to be Vampire. There is more to such a life than drinking blood and having fangs, a sophistication and experience beyond the hunger. If nothing else, Jean-Claude hopes to share this with the attendees on this evening.
Which at least manages to begin without a hitch, but if you should manage to stay for the end of the night, prepare for some fireworks to ensue. For what is a party without a little drama...
(ooc note: anyone is welcome to attend, though if you are anti-islington you will not get very far in the door before being turned away. certain allies/those who have helped jean-claude in the past will have received direct invitations, but there is a general buzz passed around the nest and islington allies ahead of time that will have spread through the supernatural community leading up to the day itself. as stated above, historical costume is a must -- vampires are encouraged to wear something from an era they lived through, though humans are welcome to whatever they desire! masks are fun so wear one if you like though there will be no anonymity here.
details will be in jean-claude's comment below, but his ex, asher, is going to be crashing the party at the end of the night, so if you're there for the end of the evening expect that as well. i will make a comment for asher as well on his own so you can tag with him before the main event if you decide you'd like to skip out on the fireworks as he and jean-claude butt heads for the first time in hundreds of years.)
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Set a few hours after this thread.
Warnings: likely mentions of child abuse, sexual abuse, prostitution, domestic abuse, and criminal activities.
---
There's a bit of grease on Nancy's jeans as she pushes open the door to Cooper's apartment, one arm carrying a large brown bag. She puts her purse down next to the front door immediately as she comes in, calling: "Cooper! I'm home- stopped in at the shops on my way home, thought I'd pick up some more gin, and that whiskey you like." He should be home- he didn't have a Night Council meeting, and since he'd been returned from the Other Realm, he'd been laying low. She didn't blame him.
She's fresh from work, clear from the smell of oil that clings to her skin as she puts the bag of alcohol on the front-hall table. The gin she'd grabbed for herself was the cheap brand she usually drank, while the whiskey, actually paid for, was from a higher shelf. She knew what her boyfriend liked to drink, and she wanted to provide it for him, when needed.
Once she turned to take her shoes off, that's when she noticed it. The tiny pieces of what she assumed had once been a vase, nearly pulverized. The alcohol is immediately forgotten about as she calls out again, a note of worry in her voice: "Cooper? What happened?" She steps further into the apartment. "Did Juliet break a vase?" She can only hope it was that. But this wasn't the first time she'd come home to broken vessels in her entry-way. Far, far from it.
As Cooper was about to learn.
Warnings: likely mentions of child abuse, sexual abuse, prostitution, domestic abuse, and criminal activities.
---
There's a bit of grease on Nancy's jeans as she pushes open the door to Cooper's apartment, one arm carrying a large brown bag. She puts her purse down next to the front door immediately as she comes in, calling: "Cooper! I'm home- stopped in at the shops on my way home, thought I'd pick up some more gin, and that whiskey you like." He should be home- he didn't have a Night Council meeting, and since he'd been returned from the Other Realm, he'd been laying low. She didn't blame him.
She's fresh from work, clear from the smell of oil that clings to her skin as she puts the bag of alcohol on the front-hall table. The gin she'd grabbed for herself was the cheap brand she usually drank, while the whiskey, actually paid for, was from a higher shelf. She knew what her boyfriend liked to drink, and she wanted to provide it for him, when needed.
Once she turned to take her shoes off, that's when she noticed it. The tiny pieces of what she assumed had once been a vase, nearly pulverized. The alcohol is immediately forgotten about as she calls out again, a note of worry in her voice: "Cooper? What happened?" She steps further into the apartment. "Did Juliet break a vase?" She can only hope it was that. But this wasn't the first time she'd come home to broken vessels in her entry-way. Far, far from it.
As Cooper was about to learn.
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Jean-Claude sits behind his desk at Guilty Pleasures, as he has done so many times of late, working on his account books and contemplating what step next to take. While he has won Islington the Lambeth territory, while the Nest is at its strongest that it has been in years, Samantha is on the Night Council, and the position for President is up for nomination in the next few days. Will she go for it herself? Will she nominate someone within her pocket to take it? He can't imagine she would stand back and let the work she has put forth so far go to the wayside. But what is there to be done? What can he do, from where he is now? Is there anything?
Jean-Claude finds that he's been staring at his account book but not really registering the figures and information in front of him, and he sits back in his chair, running his hand through his hair with a sigh. There was a time when his life was more simple than this. He wonders when things had become so complicated, and how, for that matter.
Jean-Claude finds that he's been staring at his account book but not really registering the figures and information in front of him, and he sits back in his chair, running his hand through his hair with a sigh. There was a time when his life was more simple than this. He wonders when things had become so complicated, and how, for that matter.
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Cooper had been staying mostly in his apartment since he'd returned from the Other Realm. It had been a sobering experience for the vampire. Sure, the fae who had kidnapped him had been a bunch of delusional zealots, but they did have a point. His actions had caused a lot of misery for the supernatural community. It had given him something to think about while he healed up from the worst of the wood-based injuries he had received. And then there was the ousting of Sylvia to consider. He had been plenty mad to see that the Council had voted without him being present. What a fine state of affairs he'd gotten himself into.
But he couldn't stay holed up inside with only Nancy for emotional support. He needed to get back out there and get back on his feet. As a first step, he actually got out of bed, and went down to the shops to pick up some much-needed supplies. While he was there, he saw a kid standing in the candy aisle. It was Joss, and the fact he looked that intent over deciding which chocolate bar to buy was rather amusing, not that Cooper was going to bring it up. He was trying to learn to curb his tongue better.
He walked up to the older vampire. "I assume you've been following everythin' that's been going on lately." He needed someone to talk to about what was going on and Joss was older, if not exactly wiser in Cooper's opinion.
But he couldn't stay holed up inside with only Nancy for emotional support. He needed to get back out there and get back on his feet. As a first step, he actually got out of bed, and went down to the shops to pick up some much-needed supplies. While he was there, he saw a kid standing in the candy aisle. It was Joss, and the fact he looked that intent over deciding which chocolate bar to buy was rather amusing, not that Cooper was going to bring it up. He was trying to learn to curb his tongue better.
He walked up to the older vampire. "I assume you've been following everythin' that's been going on lately." He needed someone to talk to about what was going on and Joss was older, if not exactly wiser in Cooper's opinion.
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[Make no mistake about it: the Artful Dodger is not a grass. People's business is their own matter an' it ain't for him to go stickin' his nose into it, causin' all sorts of problems what he ain't even got a right to. But then there's the stuff that's sort of his business, if only in a very loosely connected way. Or because of who it involves.]
[Nancy should be out - he's gotten good at keepin' to her schedule - an' it's Cooper he's wanting to see anyway. Doesn't stop the feeling of bein' a no-good peach from making his stomach sink as he raps on the door, shoving his hands into his pockets as he waits]
[He had to do this. Stuff was bein' said, and he needed to get in there first.]
[Nancy wouldn't see it that way, but he'd deal. Hopefully]
[Nancy should be out - he's gotten good at keepin' to her schedule - an' it's Cooper he's wanting to see anyway. Doesn't stop the feeling of bein' a no-good peach from making his stomach sink as he raps on the door, shoving his hands into his pockets as he waits]
[He had to do this. Stuff was bein' said, and he needed to get in there first.]
[Nancy wouldn't see it that way, but he'd deal. Hopefully]
Fae-napped! (May 7th-10th)
May. 8th, 2017 03:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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.
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.
Tell me that I'll figure it out...
Apr. 21st, 2017 07:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
[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
Light_shade!]
If I Were A Painting... [OPEN]
Apr. 14th, 2017 07:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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: ]
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: ]
Gonna like it here!
Mar. 11th, 2017 08:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Well, it's not much, but it's home. Lydia grimly shuts the door on the very basic looking student hall. It's right on the border of Lambeth and Lewisham, just about in the good side, the safe side, to keep her mother from fussing. On the other hand, what mothers don't know can't hurt them, and Lydia is quite thrilled to be living so close to the border. For her at least, it's a little bit edgy, a little bit exciting. Even if it's thoroughly grotty as well.
(Mid day, March 11th, Lost in Lambeth) ( Read more... )
( Morning, 13th March, down along the Thames in Lambeth and Westminster)
( Read more... )
(18th March, Shoreditch, 3AM)
( Read more... )
(Mid day, March 11th, Lost in Lambeth) ( Read more... )
( Morning, 13th March, down along the Thames in Lambeth and Westminster)
( Read more... )
(18th March, Shoreditch, 3AM)
( Read more... )
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23 February, Early Morning
He wakes up in the middle of a field - actually, a football pitch in Hounslow, but it seems vast and strange to him. He feels a nagging sense that he's lost something important, but he can't remember what it is. On further thought, he realizes that it's not the only thing he can't remember. He has no idea who he is, where he is, or why he's standing in the cold rain. The only thing he can remember is the feeling of an old ring hanging on a chain against his chest, under his sodden clothes. It's familiar and safe, and he knows that if he removes it something very bad will happen.
So the boy crouches in the mud and puzzles through his odd predicament.
A woman at a bus stop opposite the park is the first to see the small figure in the rain. She approaches the pale child and asks him what he's doing out so early, offering her umbrella, but he doesn't seem to understand her questions, growing increasingly agitated and confused the more she tries to help him. He's obviously lost, and the thinness of his arms and legs concerns her. She calls the police.
That night, the evening news broadcasts a picture of a boy, believed to be between nine and eleven years of age, who has been taken into care by Child Protective Services. They are looking for anyone who may recognize him since he does not seem to recognize himself. It generates a bit of buzz online, but it's hardly a leading news story with everything else going on in the world.
There's a follow-up the next morning, but this time it leads the program: a nurse in the mystery boy's hospital room was found dead late last night, drained of blood, her throat ripped out. The child is nowhere to be found.
[Specific prompts in the comments!]
He wakes up in the middle of a field - actually, a football pitch in Hounslow, but it seems vast and strange to him. He feels a nagging sense that he's lost something important, but he can't remember what it is. On further thought, he realizes that it's not the only thing he can't remember. He has no idea who he is, where he is, or why he's standing in the cold rain. The only thing he can remember is the feeling of an old ring hanging on a chain against his chest, under his sodden clothes. It's familiar and safe, and he knows that if he removes it something very bad will happen.
So the boy crouches in the mud and puzzles through his odd predicament.
A woman at a bus stop opposite the park is the first to see the small figure in the rain. She approaches the pale child and asks him what he's doing out so early, offering her umbrella, but he doesn't seem to understand her questions, growing increasingly agitated and confused the more she tries to help him. He's obviously lost, and the thinness of his arms and legs concerns her. She calls the police.
That night, the evening news broadcasts a picture of a boy, believed to be between nine and eleven years of age, who has been taken into care by Child Protective Services. They are looking for anyone who may recognize him since he does not seem to recognize himself. It generates a bit of buzz online, but it's hardly a leading news story with everything else going on in the world.
There's a follow-up the next morning, but this time it leads the program: a nurse in the mystery boy's hospital room was found dead late last night, drained of blood, her throat ripped out. The child is nowhere to be found.
[Specific prompts in the comments!]
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A. What Do Vampires Do Best?
So, Cooper had won the seat on the Night Council. He had to admit that he wasn't sure that he was going to win the election. The competition had been fierce. But apparently the vampires of London had their heads screwed on straight. When he found out the news, he immediately let out a whoop and holler. Then he remembered that he was now a representative and now had to act with more decorum. He'd accepted the position gratefully.
So how to celebrate? Well, there was the traditional vampire method. He was throwing a party in his apartment, which let's face it, was spacious enough for about three parties going on at once. Everyone was invited. Yes, everyone, even those from factions the Nest was in conflict with, or those people that Cooper didn't particularly personally care for. He wanted it to be known he wasn't just exclusively about vampires and was willing to work with other supernatural types for the greater good. It was as good a time as any to approach with any issues other vampires may have wanted him to approach the Council about.
While he is his usual cheerful self as he goes around greeting everyone, those who know Cooper well will notice that he seems a bit distracted. Lately, he's been picking up on the emotions of those around him. It's not entirely a surprise. These things sometimes happen to vampires when they sire a certain number of vampires, or in Cooper's case, reach a certain age. However, suddenly developing empathic powers can be hard to adjust to. Knowing when everyone's lying, feeling sad, or suddenly horny is not the best thing in the world.
B. With Great Power...
Despite his usual irreverent personality, Cooper is taking his duties seriously. Now they're double-fold thanks to being both a Marquess and the Representative. Only one thing to do when he's got a list of vampires who all want to talk to him about their grievances. Out comes the motorcycle and off into London he goes. First up was the lawyer who specialized in keeping vampires out of trouble. Getting some of them to obey the laws of London and actually serve their sentences when they were caught by mortal police was a pain. Occasionally, calling in for back-up in the form of the Marquess was required.
He went along his day, checking in on one of his favorite blood donors to make sure she wasn't being taken advantage of by the older vampires in the nest. After talking to Shady Heavens, the infamous drag queen and her tally of grievances that ran sky high, Cooper decided he needed a break. Stopping at a fish 'n chips place, he was perched on his motorcycle, gnawing away at his lunch, and occasionally drinking from a flask of blood at his hip. He was bracing himself against the brushes of emotions he kept feeling from different passerby. Oh, he would be so glad when he got this new gift under control.
C. Wildcard!
Have an idea? PM me or ask at
light_shade
So, Cooper had won the seat on the Night Council. He had to admit that he wasn't sure that he was going to win the election. The competition had been fierce. But apparently the vampires of London had their heads screwed on straight. When he found out the news, he immediately let out a whoop and holler. Then he remembered that he was now a representative and now had to act with more decorum. He'd accepted the position gratefully.
So how to celebrate? Well, there was the traditional vampire method. He was throwing a party in his apartment, which let's face it, was spacious enough for about three parties going on at once. Everyone was invited. Yes, everyone, even those from factions the Nest was in conflict with, or those people that Cooper didn't particularly personally care for. He wanted it to be known he wasn't just exclusively about vampires and was willing to work with other supernatural types for the greater good. It was as good a time as any to approach with any issues other vampires may have wanted him to approach the Council about.
While he is his usual cheerful self as he goes around greeting everyone, those who know Cooper well will notice that he seems a bit distracted. Lately, he's been picking up on the emotions of those around him. It's not entirely a surprise. These things sometimes happen to vampires when they sire a certain number of vampires, or in Cooper's case, reach a certain age. However, suddenly developing empathic powers can be hard to adjust to. Knowing when everyone's lying, feeling sad, or suddenly horny is not the best thing in the world.
B. With Great Power...
Despite his usual irreverent personality, Cooper is taking his duties seriously. Now they're double-fold thanks to being both a Marquess and the Representative. Only one thing to do when he's got a list of vampires who all want to talk to him about their grievances. Out comes the motorcycle and off into London he goes. First up was the lawyer who specialized in keeping vampires out of trouble. Getting some of them to obey the laws of London and actually serve their sentences when they were caught by mortal police was a pain. Occasionally, calling in for back-up in the form of the Marquess was required.
He went along his day, checking in on one of his favorite blood donors to make sure she wasn't being taken advantage of by the older vampires in the nest. After talking to Shady Heavens, the infamous drag queen and her tally of grievances that ran sky high, Cooper decided he needed a break. Stopping at a fish 'n chips place, he was perched on his motorcycle, gnawing away at his lunch, and occasionally drinking from a flask of blood at his hip. He was bracing himself against the brushes of emotions he kept feeling from different passerby. Oh, he would be so glad when he got this new gift under control.
C. Wildcard!
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Christmas day had gone the way it always did. Nancy had woken up early and gone over to the den with the multitude of Christmas presents she had for the boys. They'd gotten up, played games, opened gifts and ate more than they could recall eating within the last year. Along with all of that, of course, came the drinks, and by the time they'd lit the menorah that night, Nancy was drunk.
Most Christmases, whenever Nancy got too drunk, Bill wasted no time in carrying her off to bed and patiently putting her down. But this Christmas, as with so many others, he wasn't here. So the job of putting Nancy to bed- or at least making sure she got back to Cooper's house- was placed on the next logical choice.
The Artful Dodger.
Somehow, the two of them had managed to trip their way up from Saffron Hill to Cooper's flat, arm in arm. The two of them laughed freely, Nancy occasionally slipping Dodger her flask, from which they both had been drinking liberally.
The laughter continued until they approached the door, at which point, Nancy turned to her brother. "Shh, shh!" She tells him, putting her hand in front of her lips. The result is messy, and she leans against the boy already much taller than her. "We have to be quiet! Shh!"
Naturally, when a drunk woman tries to be quiet, she tends to make more noise than is necessary, and this was true for Nancy as well. She struggles to open the door, and gestures for Dodger to come in. "Come in," she says, even if he's already been in before.
The second she closes the door behind her, however, and she's dissolved into a pile of giggles.
Most Christmases, whenever Nancy got too drunk, Bill wasted no time in carrying her off to bed and patiently putting her down. But this Christmas, as with so many others, he wasn't here. So the job of putting Nancy to bed- or at least making sure she got back to Cooper's house- was placed on the next logical choice.
The Artful Dodger.
Somehow, the two of them had managed to trip their way up from Saffron Hill to Cooper's flat, arm in arm. The two of them laughed freely, Nancy occasionally slipping Dodger her flask, from which they both had been drinking liberally.
The laughter continued until they approached the door, at which point, Nancy turned to her brother. "Shh, shh!" She tells him, putting her hand in front of her lips. The result is messy, and she leans against the boy already much taller than her. "We have to be quiet! Shh!"
Naturally, when a drunk woman tries to be quiet, she tends to make more noise than is necessary, and this was true for Nancy as well. She struggles to open the door, and gestures for Dodger to come in. "Come in," she says, even if he's already been in before.
The second she closes the door behind her, however, and she's dissolved into a pile of giggles.
[open] From the Cripples to St. James'...
Dec. 2nd, 2016 04:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)

There's a right nip in the air when the Dodger steps out in the early morning to begin his business for the day. Well, his business, Fagin's business, it's all the same when it comes down to brass coins dragged from the bottom of pockets. He rubs his hands together, making a note to lift himself some gloves at some point during the day - if he recollects correctly, the ones from last year weren't really as decent as he would have liked. Not terrible, but for a gent of taste like himself, they weren't up to scratch.
Scratch... scratchings... pork scratchings. Hm. His stomach grumbled a bit. Looks like the sausages at the den weren't enough. Right, well that decided the plan for the day then. Breakfast first, and then on with the work of the day. The markets would be the best places to check. Maybe the one down by St James, folks would be too distracted to pay attention to a kid nipping among them.
Seemed like a good plan, and the Dodger grinned, adjusting his hat to just the right angle.
Right. Time for work.
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Twenty. Gods, Nancy could hardly believe it. She didn't expect to still be here for this day, truth be told. She knew the sort of life she lived, and the sorts of people she associated with. But against all odds, here she was. Twenty-years-old by Fagin's count, and as wonderful as that was...
It was odd. She'd been a teenager for so long, and now she was officially a twenty-something. An adult, for real this time, not like when she'd turned eighteen.
It didn't exactly help that Charley Bates had decided it was a great idea to call her 'old'. She'd hit the back of his head for that, refusing to consider herself old. She was still so young, at least in comparison to those she spent most of her time around, people that were centuries older than her.
This, of course, caused her some angst. She hadn't particularly wanted to celebrate her birthday. It wasn't anything to be glad about. She was, as she realized, three years physically older than Cooper. And that just felt... weird. She knew, mentally, he was far older than she was. And as he always said she was stuck with him until she was old and grey, but...
Would he still love her, then, she wanted to know? How weird would it be, an haggard old woman next to this cute seventeen-year-old kid. A chill ran up her spine when she thought about it, comparing the wretch that Fagin was to her hypothetical-old-woman-self.
If she lived that long.
Still, people want to celebrate with her. Eames, wonderful Eames, had surprised her with tickets to go see a show on the West End, and taken her out to an amazing restaurant. She'd even brought cake over to the boys', knowing a few of them had saved up to get her something. Or, likely, stole it. But she didn't reach out, not really. If you were lucky enough to know it was her birthday, however, she'd happily entertain any and all plans. There was no need to be rude, after all.
---
Nancy's 20 aww yiss.
Uhm, this is an open post. A few starters in the comments. Want something specific? Please let me know!
It was odd. She'd been a teenager for so long, and now she was officially a twenty-something. An adult, for real this time, not like when she'd turned eighteen.
It didn't exactly help that Charley Bates had decided it was a great idea to call her 'old'. She'd hit the back of his head for that, refusing to consider herself old. She was still so young, at least in comparison to those she spent most of her time around, people that were centuries older than her.
This, of course, caused her some angst. She hadn't particularly wanted to celebrate her birthday. It wasn't anything to be glad about. She was, as she realized, three years physically older than Cooper. And that just felt... weird. She knew, mentally, he was far older than she was. And as he always said she was stuck with him until she was old and grey, but...
Would he still love her, then, she wanted to know? How weird would it be, an haggard old woman next to this cute seventeen-year-old kid. A chill ran up her spine when she thought about it, comparing the wretch that Fagin was to her hypothetical-old-woman-self.
If she lived that long.
Still, people want to celebrate with her. Eames, wonderful Eames, had surprised her with tickets to go see a show on the West End, and taken her out to an amazing restaurant. She'd even brought cake over to the boys', knowing a few of them had saved up to get her something. Or, likely, stole it. But she didn't reach out, not really. If you were lucky enough to know it was her birthday, however, she'd happily entertain any and all plans. There was no need to be rude, after all.
---
Nancy's 20 aww yiss.
Uhm, this is an open post. A few starters in the comments. Want something specific? Please let me know!
CATCH-ALL FOR OCTOBER
Oct. 23rd, 2016 12:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
[catch-all post for jean-claude for october! if you have any requests to thread with him, just hit me up by pm or at
lycanthropy101! c:]
water's sweet but blood is thicker
Oct. 18th, 2016 10:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
I. COMING HOME - [OPEN TO FIRST RESPONSE OF EXISTING CR]
( Read more... )
II. DRINK N DRINK N DRINK N FIGHT - [OPEN]
( Read more... )
III. DID YOU MISS ME - [CLOSED TO NANCY]
( Read more... )
( Read more... )
II. DRINK N DRINK N DRINK N FIGHT - [OPEN]
( Read more... )
III. DID YOU MISS ME - [CLOSED TO NANCY]
( Read more... )
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[general open post for Shea's characters. Starters in the comments! Feel free to leave something, or contact me at
sheakespeare for something specific.]