Test Drive Meme: June 2015

[undergroundmods]

"" (Watch on YouTube)

Welcome to the Underground test drive meme! This is where you can try out the AU version of your character, start some potential CR and get a feel for the world of the game. Choose your character's species, read up on the available factions and you're ready to go. Put your character's name in your subject line when you post, tag out, and have fun!

Note to current players: Activity in this meme counts as game canon! So you can use it for activity check. If you end up playing anything that you can't or don't want to use as game canon, it's fine to ignore it. (In that case you shouldn't submit it for activity check.)

Here are some prompts to inspire you:

1) LONDON CALLING. People come to London from all corners of the earth. Now you're here and whether you meant to or not, you've been drawn in to the supernatural world. Perhaps you're here to meet other members of your faction. Or perhaps the city's more unusual inhabitants find you first.

2) DARK SIDE. Whether it's animal instincts, a lust for blood or uncontrollable magic, every supernatural being struggles with their darker instincts. Be careful, you may end up doing something you regret.

3) ENEMY TERRITORY. You've found yourself on the wrong side of the tracks. This is enemy territory, you shouldn't be here. Better hope you can sneak your way through without any trouble. Although you have this nagging feeling that you're being followed...

4) GET YOUR SHOVEL. Well, there's a body. Freshly killed, and they didn't come to a natural end. The question is, did you do it or was it someone else? You'd better sort this mess out quickly.

5) STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM. It's the Wimbledon finals, so grab a picnic basket, buy some horribly overpriced strawberries, choose your tennis-themed outfit and get yourself off to SW19. Sure you can handle large crowds? Now is not the time for a supernatural mishap.

6) JUST DANCE. It's a ceilidh! (Barn dance.) Organized by witches but open to all (friendly) newcomers, the dance takes place in an old music hall. There's food, drink, folk music and a magical ritual to bless all young single people attending who are looking for a partner. You never know, your next dance partner might be the one.

7) FULL MOON. (2nd July) Uh oh, it's that time of the month. Werewolves, have you been feeling more aggressive lately? A little short of temper? Better start preparing for your monthly transformation and hope that you don't get interrupted. And then there's the morning after, which feels like a massive hangover. Wait, where are your clothes?

8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Anything goes.

Comments

Thrice; Meta-Human; London Calling.

[chainreaction]

Running. If there's one thing Thrice is good at, it's running. He loves to just put his worries and thoughts aside and get lost in a long tiring run. He knows all the best jogging paths and can be found on them at any time, day or night. If there are crowds or obstacles, he seems able to time his steps and stride to miss them of weave through them without any trouble at all. It's curious, but hardly unnatural, right?

Of course, he's not always out on the path. Thrice can be found weaving his way through the crowd getting onto the tube or trying to ignore the hum and whir of daily life while he sketches out math problems in a beat-up notebook.

[brickinthewall]

Taking the metro had become something of an adventure and a nightmare for Hanna. She'd been here for two years, yet it seemed every damn time there was something going on. Almost like New York. Talia, a black standard poodle who now stands as tall as her hips, got used to the crowds here, at least, and kept more to herself and her owner most of the time.

Now, usually, Hanna wouldn't be one to pry. She's learned the value of privacy and keeping your damn mouth shut the hard way.

But she couldn't help it. Who draws math problems on a whim?

"Having fun there?" she asks.

hayato gokudera / khr! | werewolf | get your shovel

[exhaust]

[ hydrogen. helium. lithium -- he counts them like a litany. the reek's a stain on the air, iron and stale at once, human sweat evaporating more and again beneath each straying breeze. there's a snarl caught in his throat, and he can almost feel, he thinks, fur spilling thick over his knuckles, nails yellowing into curves heavy as bone, the jab of them digging into his fists --

beryllium, boron, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, but his hands are bare; the skies are dull and dim, the moon slivers and days away from any real danger yet. and still the thing's at their feet, airless and silent, a bed for rot to come.

what do you even say with a dead body inches from your next step? ]

. . . You're doing the digging.

[ ooc | if you don't feel comfortable bullshitting on the fly, i've a contact post here to do preliminary setups! prose or brackets, i'm happy to match you.

fair warning: threads may turn out 0% serious. ]

[detectiveofthewest]

Heiji made a face. "Are you nuts? What if there're more of these guys around here? It wasn't exactly quiet, y'know. If no one heard him, it'd be a miracle. Plus he smells awful."

How did he even get into these situations?

Maera Perkins | Unseelie Fairy | Multiple Options!

[goroesi]

{ strawberries and cream }

For someone from the Unseelie Court, Maera has somewhat of an affection for summer. It's not the heat she loves, but the hustle and bustle in the city that inevitably comes with warmer weather. And Wimbledon is the epitome of her favorite parts of summer. The crowds are ridiculous - just the way she likes them.

So here she is, standing outside of the stadium with a big picnic basket over her arm and two tickets in her hand. Whoever approaches her next is getting a faceful of bright, cheery Maera - even if they're a complete stranger. "I've an extra ticket! Would you like to come in with me?" Of course, they've been procured by her magic, not by entirely legal means - but that's all part of the fun.

{ just dance }

Ceilidh. It's an odd word, so Maera tries it out on her tongue a couple more times before smoothing down her dress. Something about tonight is making her think in awfully romantic ways. She'd come here for a bit of fun - dancing, after all, was one of her favorite pastimes. But now she finds herself thinking about the ritual being performed, hoping a little that it'll work for her.

She doesn't usually think about love. She knows it'll come to her when it does. So in an effort to get her mind off the subject, she'll be hovering near the punch bowl. Those with sharp eyes will notice her pouring a little something into it, but it's only mortal alcohol. It's Maera's favorite way to liven up a party, after all.

strawberries and cream

[detectiveofthewest]

"You mean I don't even have to pay?" It was easy for one fae to recognize another, though Heiji probably would have accepted the offer even if Maera wasn't supernatural in origin.

"You're on. Who're ya pulling for?"

Chains ; Payday 2 | Vampire | Get Your Shovel or Enemy Territory, either works!

[fullyloaded]

[ Temporary operations they called it when they sent him over. Maybe he didn’t have the brawn and status that some of the older crew members had but he had the smarts. Not to mention, as much his temperament was way more under wraps. Doing clean and easy jobs for his employer while simultaneously maintaining a steady relationship with the Islington Nest. Following the rules was easy enough.

You know what else was pretty damn easy? The jewelry job he’d been sent on. It was a grab and run. Avoid security alarms, snatch the seemingly insignificant piece of rusty old some-kind-of-heirloom (that was actually somehow worth thousands of dollars), hop in the escape van set up outside and make the deposit.

Except that smooth operation came to an unceremonious halt when Chains got to said escape vehicle.

And the getaway driver was dead. ]

Well shit.

[ Yeah, well shit. He jerked the driver’s door open and reached inside, feeling for a pulse. He’d seen enough dead bodies in his lifetime to know that yes, this dude was definitely dead as a doornail but still, it never hurt to check. It wasn’t until he retracted his hand and was staring down at the blood on his fingers that he paused. ]

Make that double shit.

[ Just his luck. So apparently some other nutjob vampire had a bad night, awful relapse, or just was being a flat out dick. Maybe all of the above. Didn’t make Chains look any less suspicious to someone walking by. That much was for sure. Might as well call it now. ]

Way to rain on everyone else’s parade, man. Seriously.

[emotioneater]

Sorry. Got a bit peckish.

[The Irish-accented voice comes from the teenager who was most definitely not sitting on the car's hood a moment ago. His tongue flicks out and licks at a small trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. The bite marks on the body are quite neat and tidy, none of this 'rip the throat out like a wild animal' nonsense some younger vampires have a tendency to do. Cooper doesn't look truly sorry in the least. As far as he's concerned, if someone is still breathing, then they're fair game when it comes to mealtime.]

But you know what they say. Man makes plans. God laughs.

Matthew Brown | Human | Multiple Options

[unconned]

(WILDCARD) COOCHIE COO
He doesn't have all the time in the world these days. Not compared to before. Between running the pub and running to the store for diapers and baby food, Matthew thinks it's a miracle he can get a day off for himself and actually want to take it up.

But he does and he wisely decides to use it to catch some sun in the park for Margaret's sake and to also remind him that there's an outside world for his sake too.

Parking his butt on the bench after he gets there, he spends a few precious minutes cooing over his little girl and playing with her a bit. Tickling her tummy and playing peek-a-boo, always doing his best to elicit a squeal or a wiggle from his baby. When he thinks she's happy enough and tuckered out enough from their play session, he sets her back down in the baby stroller so he could get some studying done. As he reads a book or three on faeries and the lore around them, Margaret is happily nestled in her stroller as she entertains herself with her favourite rabbit by nibbling on its ears and calling out for her dad with gurgles and little giggles.

(WILDCARD) WASHED UP
There are rules when it comes to drinking at the Watering Hole. The expected -- final call means final call, remember to use the bathroom for anything involving bodily fluids -- and the pub specific. For Matthew's pub, it's expected to treat the staff there with politeness and respect. That means no harassing, not catcalling, no manhandling, and no fighting. Period. No ifs, buts, or whats if you want to get your drink.

And if someone doesn't want to play by those rules? Well, both security and Matthew is there to take care of that.

He's been hauling people out of the bar and into the streets of London, assfirst, since he was a teenager. It's all become a routine at this point. First he politely engages with them fist, trying to seek a peaceful resolution before throwing it into the wind the moment the patron uses a slur or lays their hands on him. He grabs them by the collar and hoists them up, bodily dragging them towards the entrance as someone opens it up so its nice and ready for their disrespectful friend. Finally, he takes a second to plant his feet firmly on the ground before he tosses the person out with all his might, staying at the entrance of the door to make sure they land on the ground and stay there..

"And keep the fuck out of here or else!" He isn't afraid to call the coppers if he needs to.

The pub is dead silent for a few seconds before it goes back to life, conversations, mostly gossip, picking up again as drinks get served again and he returns to his station behind the pub.

He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself from the rush of adrenaline running through his veins before he looks at a waiting patron and gives a brief nod in apology for making them have to watch that. "Sorry. Can't let people like that hang around if they're not going to be respectful to the people here. Gotta set standards, you know?"

(WILDCARD) HELPING HANDS
As a general rule, Matthew tries not to get involved too much in terms of what's going on in pub grounds. That's where the patrons gather together to have a drink and a good talk if they can keep from slurring their words long enough and where his employees do their job to earn their keep and earn some good tips.

His place is at the bar, wiping down the counter and serving drinks with as little words as possible. Now and then though there'll eventually be someone who demands to see him directly for one thing or another. That's the only time he leaves his station and it looks like tonight's one of them. One of the girls whispers to him that someone wants a chat with him and he obliges, snapping his fingers as he leaves to alert Benny to take over full-time now so he could see what the fuss is all about.

He's all smiles as he approaches the table, wondering what this is all about since, so far to his knowledge, the evening has been going well. Did something happen when he wasn't looking? God he hopes not. "Evening there. Is there anything I can help you out with?"

COOCHIE COO

[detectiveofthewest]

Hmm. A human man and a metahuman baby girl. Probably the missing factor in this equation was her mother. And judging from the cover of one of those books Matthew had with him, her mother was --

"A baby!" Sakura, a young girl dressed in a pink printed yukata, hustled over to the stroller. She was followed quickly by Tsubaki in red.

Kiku and Ume were more reserved, watching as the other two girls crowded around Margaret and started cooing.

"H-hey! Don't just bother people like that!" Heiji called, but to no real avail.

North Dakota/Nathan Reilly | Red vs Blue | Ghost

[brodakota]

[1]

[Nathan Reilly, North to his friends, hadn't really planned on becoming a ghost. Of course he hadn't really planned on dying either, but here he was having done both.

It was a strange experience, all things considered, and North wasn't sure he liked it all that much. Especially since he can't remember much of the circumstances surrounding his death. He remembers getting attacked and maybe pushing his sister out of the way? And then he was here, in the alley where he'd died, still dressed in the clothes he'd died in.

Just standing there, because he's worried that if he leans against the building he'll go through it. Needless to say, it's a bit awkward.]

[5]

[Having been dead for a while, North has learned that there are some advantages. For one, he's actually able to make it to Wimbledon. He'd always talked about going with his friends one day, but they'd never actually managed it. It's a bit of a bittersweet feeling.

For now though, he's just hanging out on the edge of things, not wanting to cause trouble. He still hasn't completely figured out this ghost thing.]

1

[detectiveofthewest]

"You okay there?" Normally, men in alleys weren't included in the group of people Heiji called out to out of nowhere, but this particular ghost looked rather lost. He peeked his head around the corner to scrutinize North.

"This ain't the best part of town to be spacin' out." Although he supposed it didn't matter too much to a ghost...

HANNA TALBOT | METAHUMAN

[brickinthewall]

RHIANNON

Hanna didn't always smoke. That was a habit she picked up from Travis, who used the curling smoke and the smoldering embers to his advantage. In the smoke and the flames that weren't of his making, he made everyone fear them and every inch of him. Travis was not a righteous man, but he was a good man. The interrogator with the power of illusions taught her how to make the fire she feared be someone else's fears.

It was from him that she learned how to light a cigarette while she held it with her lips. Smoking was only necessary when she needed to detach herself far past the lyrics of Stevie Nicks. Her medium-length hair is half an artful mess, her tank top is a testament to how often she preferred to wear this particular black Pink Floyd shirt, and her combat boots are half covered in metal curves and studs. Tattoos are sprawled on her arms: three bands of tight sound waves on each forearm, a solid black spade on her right wrist, good and bye written in neat cursive on her right index and middle fingers, and, most notably, a pair of wings that span from her back to her shoulders, as if they're spreading or moving with her arms.

There is no lighter, but suddenly, her cigarette is smoking. The edges glow red and orange in the night as it burns through the paper. Her white headphones hanging around her neck blast guitars and poetic lyrics of a mysterious girl who could make your life heaven and hell. Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night, and wouldn't you love to love her? If she catches you staring, she's not going to let you off the hook. "Looking for something?" she asks as she pulls the cigarette out of her lips. Hanna is unarmed, yet her eyes serve as her weapons. A little calculating, a little hardened, like a pair of flat jade discs inset in pearl. Talia, the black standard poodle, watches attentively.

Otherwise, she's taking off today to explore London. Her fingers instinctively follow the beat of the drums coming from her headphones. She'll even stop to grab some food from a stand. Talia trots only a few paces ahead, never straying too far from her owner. Both are nice... when they're not being threatened.

THE DOGS OF WAR

Well, this wouldn't be the first time Hanna found herself somewhere she shouldn't be. By now, she wonders where she could be. The list was pretty narrow in the States, was it narrowing here too?

Talia growled. She didn't like it, and neither did Hanna. The pyromancer would turn around and come back the same way, but some nagging feeling (and the growling) told her she wouldn't like what was behind her back. Should've brought a knife, she scolds herself. She has her fire, at least, but that's going to attract attention. But between attention and staying alive, she'd take the blazing route. It's not as if she came here to cause trouble... on purpose at least.

The pair go, trying to find some way back to safety, and keeping to more crowded streets. No one would attack her, and if they did, well. There's plenty of hostages to broker for her escape. Following her? She'll be glancing back over her shoulder every so often. Want to help? You'll probably notice that she seems a little lost.

((ooc: log or brackets is good, feel free to come up with something new))

ada lovelace | original character | seelie fae

[imperialheart]

one)

[it was a spell she'd done so many times, crossing over. she should know it flawlessly, as easy as breathing. but finding out that someone had tampered with her end location - blocked it off, or infused it with a displacement spell - her first thought was that it was her own fault somehow, until centuries of experience said differently.

regardless, it means that in someone's place of work - wherever it displaced her to, there is a (thankfully glamoured) woman who wasn't there the last time they checked, closing a door behind her and freezing like a deer in headlights when she sees them.

now, how to play this off without needing to resort to the more drastic measures...]

two)

[or maybe she wasn't the one crossing over. it's London, but it's not their London. the place they've ended up in seems to have a gentle radiance imbued in it, warm and welcome - unpleasant sounds are muffled if not eliminated entirely, everything feels more open and airy. it could be a dream, perhaps, or they could know they were wide awake. to the sensitive, magic is within every breath they breathe.

whatever the case, they're in the Other Realm now, and blessing or curse, she's the one they'll find closest, sitting on an area of grass populated by wildflowers. she's singing to herself and waiting for who wandered through to come. when she hears them, her voice dies down, and she'll look at them, directly into their eyes.]

I've been waiting for you, you know.

three)

[WILDCARD - pick something else!]

2 | because like that's exactly what would happen

[fuckchild]

[Okay so.

There's a lot of things going on, which Dante doesn't even know how to process properly outside of what the fuck but landing in a nice version of London isn't what he was aiming for.

He's pretty sure he wasn't even aiming for anything. It wasn't all that strange to end up in different realms, different areas, but this is a place he doesn't remember. It's too. Welcoming.

Blue-gray eyes focus on the girl. Hell yeah, he thinks. I can work with this. He throws his head up and smirks.]

Yeah? Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long.

Diana Meade | Witch | Multiple Options

[mead]

1)
Diana's reason for coming to London was probably similar to most Americans who bought one way tickets and packed their lives into a pair of suitcases (and one carryon): she was running away from home. She wouldn't even be hesitant to call it that if called out on it. Diana knew full well she was leaving behind everything she'd ever known. She just simply couldn't deal with it anymore. She's currently staying at a modest hotel, paid for by part of the inheritance she cashed in before leaving.

Now she's looking for a job and a place to live, stopping outside apartment buildings with signs that say 'flat for rent', and sitting at cafes, looking through the paper and her phone for jobs.

Either way, she's all by herself, and she's definitely giving off witchy vibes.

6)
Diana's dressed up but standing near the wall, a drink in hand. She came to the dance to try and meet new people, but so far she's just felt like the fifth wheel on a truck: nice to have, but not really needed. She's not having a terrible time, though. The music is nice, and she's enjoying watching everyone else dance.

But she is missing her friends back home an awful lot.

8)
Prompt me!

Brackets or prose are a-okay by me!

[detectiveofthewest]

"Seems like everyone's looking to move this time of year," said Heiji, sitting down at the small table next to Diana. He put down a folded paper with a few circled apartment listings. The morning had not been a particularly productive one in terms of finding a place to keep his stuff.

"Hot, innit?"

Lady Zozo | Code of Princess | Witch

[undeadparts]

[Just Dance]

[Or not, as is the case with one particularly gloomy necromancer. Zozo has taken up residence near the refreshments table, gripping her cane tightly, trying her best not to stand out like a sore thumb and failing miserably. For starter's, her outfit is a bit on the weird side. A black turtleneck swear and long skirt with boots aren't that weird, except in the summer, but for some reason she decided to include a short purple cloak and striped scarf with the rest of her outfit. It's almost as if she's trying to hide something. Appearance she seems find, though her pink hair, pale skin, and yellow eyes do stand out as weird.

For those more magically inclined, you might be able to see her true appearance; blue patchwork skin in different shades, held together by pink stitches. Most of her body is covered, but her hands and face are in plain view despite the bandages on the former. None of the witches seem too disturbed by it, though they're probably making comments out of earshot. Still, she tries to be sociable with anyone who walks by the refreshment table for a snack or drink. Even if she isn't very good at it.]

Uh... Hi. Want some punch? I can get it for you.

[Why does she even come to these things. The amount of actual friends she's made at parties could probably be counted on one hand. With all without all the digits...]

[Get Your Shovel]

[London during the day was always a pain in the ass. There were so many people around, and not having a normal body meant having to use stronger spells to ensure her appearance was kept up. Illusion magic didn't work on cameras, though, so she always had to short those out or do her best to avoid them or seem invisible. Night made things easier, since she didn't have to spare as much energy. Her hood was up as she wander around town, seemingly making her way to the outskirts. As she was enjoying her walk, her nose picked up a weird stench. Against her better judgement she decided to investigate, only to come upon a corpse. Freshly made, from the looks of things. Whoever left it her seemed to be long gone, but...wow. What a mess.]

When I said I needed some new fingers, I didn't mean fresh ones...

[Damn, that stench is awful. Still, she couldn't just leave it here. The damage done doesn't seem like anything a normal human could do. Probably a werewolf mauling's leftovers. So she brought her scarf up to her nose in an attempt to block out the smell and approached the remains. Just before she could crouch down before it to remove the remains, she felt like someone was watching her. A sense, maybe? Or perhaps she heard something. Whatever the case was, the necromancer was ninety percent certain that she wasn't alone.]

Hello? Is someone there?

[Her voice was surprisingly calm as she called out. Unafraid, though curious.]

Just dance

[blind_badass]

Why did he subject himself to this again? Oh right, because the library had closed early today and he couldn't mercilessly plunder its riches and helpful staff for research. That and several teachers at his school planned on going and really, he needed to get out and experience London.

Not helpful when the group you arrived with abandoned you to chat with others and leaving you to fend for yourself. No matter. Snake was quite used to taking care of himself. But even he needed a moment to get used to the space and press of people and minds enclosed in the barn. So he leaned against the wall of the barn and kept his mental shields tight so as not to be overwhelmed. His other four senses took over, giving him a chance to a listen and to get a sense of where everything (objects and people) were.

About then he heard the voice of a young woman, asking him if he'd like a refreshment. "If you would be so kind," he said.

The Nogitsune/Teen Wolf | Unseelie Fae (good with brackets or prose)

[mygame]

The creature stepped out of one of the doors its kind used, stretching and yawning as if recently awakened. None were there to see it (or so it thought) so it didn't bother forming itself up fully. Only when it stopped in front of the cracked mirror in the underground trash did it stop and consider. "I need a face."

Its eyes closed, head tipped back as multiple ones flipped through its mind. It could construct its own, but where was the fun in that? Better to take what it wanted. Oh yes. That one. The fae opened its eyes and smiled at itself in the mirror.

"I've done worse for myself," it said in Stiles' voice. The skintones were wrong, much too pale with dark shadows around its eyes, but the fae didn't care much. There were other concerns it had as it studied itself in the mirror. "Hm. I'm a male this time."

Pulling the waist of its pants out, it peered down and checked. "Yes, male. Not much of one though. Must be a human. Oh well. Beggars can't be choosers even I can be."

Fact was that it was too lazy to really do much more. Dusting itself off, the Nogitsune changed the shades of its clothing to black and grey instead of what the real one had been wearing. Much better. Humans and their love of color.

"You're supposed to behave this time," the reflection said. "You promised."

The Nogitsune stopped mid-preening of its hair to frown at itself. "I will. What? I needed a face."

The reflection looked less than believing. It held up its thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "You're this close to being kicked out. Even we have standards, sort of, and you know what they said about not stirring up too much trouble."

The fae rolled its eyes. "I was the bad thing in the dark places when humans were still hooting around fires and scribbling on walls with sticks. It's not my fault the last ones didn't have much of a sense of humor. They let me out eventually. Besides, with the kind of gathering going on here, who's going to notice me?"

The image in the mirror was just that again, itself and nothing more. The Nogitsune's nose wrinkled as its fingertips tapped aimlessly against the glass. It could be good. It wouldn't, of course, but it could be. There was an entire city of beings laid out before it to play with as it pleased. No one would care if it pulled a few little strings, right? Started a tiny war or two?

Laughing to itself, the creature stepped out of the alleyway and into the London evening. There was exploring to be done.

(Or vampire flavored version - utterly winging it here) : London Calling

[mygame]

There were a lot of things in the world that could convince one to get in line and behave. Being planted for a long time was one of them. Waking up stupidly weak with a blaze of lights shining in one's face cemented that. What fresh hell was this?

"I told you. Looks just like that werewolf's friend."

Nogitsune blinked dumbly, trying to get his hands up to block some of what he was sure hand to be sunlight after so long. He couldn't even do that. Everything else passed in a blur of a good hard shake as if he were a ragdoll and being told that if he didn't settle down and help, there wouldn't be any planting next time. Death was going to follow. After blood and more information, the Nogitsune found himself standing in a flat (that now belonged to him somehow), fake ID on the table and more warnings ringing in his ears.

"I hate witches," he muttered to himself as he took a few tentative steps. Everything still ached or what he supposed was an ache. Hadn't felt much in a long time before he had been shut away and apparently forgotten about until needed. Nothing like being a thousand years old and dropped to the level of a newborn to remind him to not act up. Well, to be fair, he had tried to incite riots, terrify the human populace, and start a brilliantly planned war. Probably hadn't been his best idea in his unlife when such had been voted down by the Powers That Be beforehand.

Stuffing his new wallet into his pocket, the creature stepped out into the London night grumpily. He wanted something live instead of bottled before he had to be back and away from the sunlight. Granted, this was better than sleeping or being really dead, but starting all over? Not his idea of fun. That and he doubted it would be a good idea to go by Nogitsune in Great Britain of all places.

"Stupid witches," he muttered to himself as he tried to get used to the roar of cars going by, of the place being different than he remembered.

Richard Castle | Castle | Meta-Human

[writeswrongs]

3]
Castle definitely knows that he shouldn't be here, but doing private investigation work sometimes leads a person to territories where his kind isn't welcome. He crouches in his car in the near darkness, camera in hand. His client wants pictures of his wife cheating on him. As it turns out, she's cheating with a member of the supernatural set. Intriguing, but his client is a regular human so he's going to have a hell of a time explaining this. Castle hopes none of the pictures he snaps reveal the creature's true nature.

He manages to get the two of them together in several shots, kissing. He feels like a total creeper, but this is the job. It's not his preferred type of case to take but it puts food on the table. Castle needs to get a few more shots but they've moved out of range now. His foot taps impatiently. The longer he lingers here the longer he runs the risk of someone not-so-friendly sticking their head in his car window.

At least he can speed away if he has to. Or use his telepathy. It's definitely helped him get out of sticky situations before.


6]
Castle loves parties, and while his social life usually revolves around the aboveground world, he likes to go to the occasional underground party as well. One, witches are cool, and two, it's a good place to network and possibly meet new clients for his private investigation business. Castle is mostly haunting the refreshment area because he's not a super fantastic dancer and he realizes that he looks like someone's dad while dancing. (He technically is someone's dad, even if she's not in attendance.) He's married, so he's not looking for any good luck blessing either. Instead he's loading his plate with goodies until he comes to something he doesn't recognize.

"Hey, have you tried this... potato stuff?"


8]
[Come at him, bro. Castle is a mystery writer/private detective and his meta-human ability is telepathy in the sense that he can read another person's thoughts if he chooses to. Obviously he'll need permissions for that, so let me know if you're ok with him using his telepathy on your character. Also open to pre-established CR at either of the above scenarios.]

The Leanansídhe is unseelie (3)

[faerygodmother]

Well he could speed away. If he ignored the woman that had just hopped up to sit on the hood of his car and peer in at him through the camera lens. Wait, had she hopped up there? It was almost like she materialized from nothing. Veils were so handy. "You look very much like a little boy afraid of being caught with his hand in the cookie jar," she mused, looking cheerfully delighted at catching him thus. Her head turned to take in his line of sight as though she wasn't a complete stranger out in a less savory part of town late at night, sitting on someone's hood. The couple is out of range but she returns a golden gaze to him, there's a look of knowing a secret her hand lifted to her lips, hiding her expression very badly.

She appears to be roughly 25 with long red hair that spills over her shoulders and pools on his car hood and down over what was far too nice a dress for this area. And she was barefoot which might lead to question later, none of which she seemed the least bit concerned about. Instead she looks like she's come to a comedy club and is thoroughly entertained by the act. Is she drawing attention? Oops.

Pram the Oracle | Makai Kingdom | Fae (Unseelie)

[floesight]

[Summoning]

[Maybe you're desperate. Maybe you're not. Whatever the cause or reason behind your actions, you've apparently deemed it necessary to summon a fae. Whether or not this is actually a good idea is hard to say, but it's too late to go back now. The circle has been erected, the offerings and items have been placed, and the words have been spoken. Now all that's left is to wait for the blinding light-

Oh there it is.

Eventually it begins to grow dim, curling around in itself and taking form. The silhouette appears to be that of a young woman's. A brief glow occupancies it as the ritual is almost complete and then a loud thump. When the light fades, the magic circle will be glowing an eerie blue, with its occupant being...a young girl in a white nightgown and cap, rubbing her head.]

Ow! What's the deal?! Who summons me at night?

[Probably not what you were expecting during your attempt to summon an Oracle.]

I swear, if this is about next week's lottery I'll freeze you solid!

[Strawberries and Cream]

[It's been quite some time since she's entered the human world. Few hundred years, give or take, and she's gotta say they've done well for themselves. Almost makes her glad someone summoned her. Almost. Still, her curiosity has gotten the best of her and so she's decided to stick around. Human sports in particular have always been a notable interest of hers, and with having been gone for so long she's got a lot to make up for. This..."Tennis" sounds as good a place as any to start, so here she is.

Pram's sitting down in her seat next to you, decked out from head to toe in an "appropriate" tennis-themed outfit that's likely anything but. In her hands are two flags with the names of the current competitors on them. No matter who they may be. It doesn't seem like she's changing flags either. What she is doing is cheering loudly, however. Probably loud enough to her your ears.

She isn't sorry.]

strawberries and cream

[detectiveofthewest]

"You're not blendin' in. Like, at all." How did Heiji even end up watching the game with Pram? Why couldn't it have been some babe in a visor and a short little tennis skirt?

"Okay, I decided. Baseball you turn out in person for. For tennis, a big TV in an air-conditioned room."

Lagertha - Vikings - Fae (Seelie)

[livesarejuststories]

4)

Gone were the days when one killed someone, announced it to the first house they passed, pay the family a fine, and that was that. It made things so much easier. However, self-defense was no longer so much more easily defined.

A man had attacked her, and she'd retaliated.

The man was dead, and she had a body in the boot of her car. Of course, it could be dealt with. It was easy to chat up a police officer even as she leaned against it. Once he was gone, however, she headed back for the driver's seat.

One, however, might smell or sense death.


6)

Lagertha laughed and danced in the midst of the the crowd. That the witches who organised all of this were, technically, against fae didn't bother her in the slightest. She had no quarrel with them and had no intentions of creating a scene. As long as she was just having fun? None of them needed to worry about it.

She grinned when she saw someone standing alone. Male or female, it didn't matter to her. A dance partner was a dance partner.

"Dance with me. Come on."


8)

Wildcard! Choose your own!

[ 6 <3 ]

[euphonize]

"Only you," Lyra mused, "would have more energy than me to have another dance after our last little round."

Nevertheless, Lyra obliges for someone she's close with and daintily hands over her cup for someone to hold it. The person almost protests until she smiles at them and makes her way to her friend, tying her dark hair up to keep it from her face and Lagertha's face. Last thing she wants to do is hit a friend of hers with it.

"I take it you're having a good time then! Is there something in the air that just inspires you?"

Hikaru Hitachiin | Ouran High School Host Club | fae (unseelie)

[hikaruorkaoru]

1)

Japan had gotten boring. Everywhere got boring eventually. But they hadn't been to London in awhile, and between cells and Doors, it was easy to get in contact with Kaoru, who was checking out the Eastern USA. One of them was bound to find an interesting enough place for a decade or two. They'd had a good run in Japan.

Hikaru looks like a proper tourist, his camera clicking at every slightly landmark-like place. But it also clicks at pictures of brownstone apartment buildings and other such things. A very enthusiastic tourist, it seems.

"Eh, seen one clocktower, seen 'em all," he mutters to himself as he takes a picture of Big Ben. "Boring."

He speaks in English, having defaulted to it after having been surrounded by English speakers for the last week or two. It's still vaguely Japanese accented, but that should be gone in another month or so. After all, those kind of habits are easy to shrug off. It just takes a little time.


2)

Mortals are fun to harrass. Especially in a new city.

He's sitting outside a cafe, sipping a cup of tea in accordance to local (cliche) custom. Still, it's good milk tea, and he's quite glad for it. After all, there's still a chill in the air, even for summer, something that does not endear this place to him.

Not far from him is a couple. The boy is trying his hardest to please the girl, who couldn't be less interested or any worse at hiding it. But he's a lovesick puppy, traipsing after her. All pure hearted adoration.

So, Hikaru uses just a little of his illusion magic. Just a simple movement of his hand. The table looks a bit wider to her, and she sets her coffee down on it. Only to just get half of it, so the rest of the hot beverage falls straight into her lap.

As she starts a tirade, he smirks to himself and sips his tea.


3)

"Look, I really don't feel like playing games."

Hikaru looks around, eyes narrowed. Usually, he's the easygoing kind of fae. Or so he'd say. But when he can practically feel someone breathing down his neck? He starts to get angry.

"If you want me to make you sorry, I will. Now, show yourself or leave me alone!"


4)

...Oops.

Well. That's one person who won't be annoying him again. It wasn't his fault the guy was prying into his comings and goings. And being just a little too obvious about it. No one appreciated subtlety anymore.

So, he stares at the body of the man who had totally fallen down the stone steps all by himself. There had been absolutely no bad luck spell placed on him to make him fall. Hikaru, to be fair, had been trying to just make him break a leg. Not his neck.

But. Well. He's dead.

Which means he has to do something with the body.


5)

At Wimbledon, Hikaru is dressed flawlessly in a one-of-a-kind outfit. It's made by hand -- his hand, in fact. The material is actually fabric from the Other Realm, but it passes for something mortal. Just very, very nice, expertly crafted. Which is something of a point of pride for him -- as is most everything.

The game holds his attention like nothing else, and his powers are never used. Things like this are important. He doesn't interfere in these kind of things.

"Amazing," he murmurs at one particularly fine serve.


6)

A party is just where Hikaru loves to be.

He dances with everyone, moving around the dancefloor. He has more than his share of alcohol and food, but he doesn't show it. It's too easy to be everywhere at once, flitting about like a proper social butterfly.

Of course, anyone playing fast and loose with innocent, pure hearts might find themselves having a stroke of bad luck. Which might range from spilling a drink on themselves to a more disastrous fall or something worse.

All depends on the severity of their crime and Hikaru's mood at the time.


8)

Anything else you want!

3

[emotioneater]

Cooper drops down from a nearby rooftop, landing right in front of Hikaru in a graceful three-point stance. It's an move designed to intimidate. He stands up up, the teenage-looking vampire giving the fae an appraising glance.

"Tch. I'm not the one where he shouldn't be." His tone is scolding with just the hint of a threat underneath. He's been watching Hikaru move through Islington's territory for quite a while now and it looks like he's not here to cause trouble. But you never know.

Sylar (Heroes), meta human → LONDON CALLING

[grayatonement]

OPEN

It had been nearly two years since Sylar was in London, having left after the death of his aunt. Now he was back, drawn home in a way that he couldn't explain, just as he couldn't explain his penchant for understanding the way things worked. It was something that simply was and the sooner he accepted it, the easier his life had become.

He slid a hand through his hair as he stepped out of the train, climbing the stairs from the tube and beginning to wander the city with no particular destination in mind. He chose the sketchier alleys intentionally. There was nothing out there worse than him so far as he knew and he took great pride in that. It was part of what made him so arrogant.

Maybe he would grab a cup of tea. Perhaps browse Waterstone's or simply wander the streets. Whatever the case, he was looking for someone to distract him from the darkness in the back of his mind that tempted him toward the things he was trying to avoid.

CLOSED TO COOPER

Sylar had returned to the United Kingdom after the utter disappointment of finding the sad man who was his father. Lucky for him, the United States had never caught on to Gabriel Gray as the serial killer they had dubbed both 'The Night Slasher' and 'The Blood Stalker,' having failed to match the two series of crimes together. In their defense, he had obtained new powers in the interim, helping the modus operandi to continually change and preventing their recovery of things like fingerprints and other base DNA evidence.

He had promised himself, when passing easily through customs and setting into the Red Eye flight, that he was through with killing for a time. It was necessary to lie low and focus on understanding what it was that he was becoming and what was happening to him. His father had been no help in that regard, other than to suggest he had no future but as a monster. He had been determined to rise above.

But the itch returned. The same as it always did. The impatience and anger he knew was fueled by an inability to get release. Killing calmed him. It helped to ground his soul and clear his mind in ways that nothing else thus far had ever managed to do. It was beautiful, an art which helped him to grow and to see the world in ways that others could only dream.

A couple months after his return, the man closed up his shop for the night. He wasn't setting out to kill anyone, yet his anger was such that he worried for any meta human who might cross his path. And, well, at this point, even a human might do. The night was dark and full of terrors, Sylar chief among them.

It didn't take long. An isolated alleyway near Oxford Circus. A drunk woman. There was nothing sexual about it, nothing specific in the choice of victim other than laziness. His father had accused him of only hunting rabbits - easy prey - and he was too distracted by the darkness in his mind to care that it was more true than he would care to admit.

Two minutes. She cried when she realized what was happening. He made it quick for her. Normally the screams might bring him some level of satisfaction, but tonight it was the blood he was searching for. He made certain there was plenty of it before he dropped the corpse to the ground. Sylar took a moment to revel in the relief, crouching down to run his fingertips in the red pool from her neck. She wasn't a meta. There was nothing special about her. It was just wrong place, wrong time.

[emotioneater]

Cooper had been on his way home after checking up on Erik. It was hard work keeping a new member of the nest in check. He had no doubt it would all pay off. The kid considered the older vampire his mentor now. If Cooper said jump, the kid would ask how high. He was ruminating on these thoughts when the scent hit him like a brick truck. So much blood. He could smell it from a block away. Somewhere close by, someone was dying. Yes, definitely on their way out of this world if he could smell that much blood in the air.

He dashed through the streets using the unnatural speed all vampires possessed. Nobody was around this time of night. He followed the scent down to an alleyway. (These things always seemed to take place in deserted alleys. People should have learned to stop walking down them.) He took in the woman lying on the ground, the pool of liquid streaming out around her, and the figure crouching beside her. He had only one thing to say. "You gonna eat that?"

Mr. Satterthwaite | The Mysterious Mr. Quin series | Human | Redbright

[quiteold]

3. Mr. Satterthwaite wasn't terribly connected to any one side of the faction wars that happened in London under everyone's nose. Of course, he was a backer of the Redbright Institute and sometimes sat in at lectures if he was particularly interested in the speaker or subject - but that was the extent of his involvement.

Still, to others he could see why that wouldn't matter.

He'd taken to late night strolls in his old age, something he would have never done before. Perhaps it was a slight form of wanting to speed the process up. He did so hate looking in the mirror seeing an old man now.

Even if that were true, Satterthwaite still enjoyed what life had to offer an old man like him. He had no idea he had wandered into the territory of a faction that would consider him an enemy, however. The streets of London all looked the same to him.

[misterquin]

It was surely pure coincidence that as he approached the invisible line between the territory of the Night Council into that where vampires and werewolves were less inclined to let mortals pass Satterthwaite ceased to be alone. The man didn't appear beside him, walking step by step. Instead, he was about a block ahead, leaned against a lamppost, as if he'd been waiting for something. He heard steps approaching, and he looked up.

For a moment -- a mere trick of the light, surely -- it seemed that his face was thrown into shadow, as if he were wearing a black mask. The illusion lasted only a moment, and, instead, he smiled.

"Mister Satterthwaite," he said, warmly. "My dear friend, what brings you out here at this hour?"

that other wizard named Harry | Dresden Files | Witch | Hillingdon

[semiautomagical]

1 The 'choice' as it were to move to London was not an easy one. But the States just weren't safe for him anymore. It didn't matter where he went; so long as there was a big city full of supernatural juju, there would be the lawmakers and those who enforce the laws. What was he going to do, swim to Cuba? Hike to the farthest reaches of northern Canada? Try his hand in the Middle East? No, it just wasn't going to do. And he would never have felt right settling down in some little cottage on the countryside. It just wasn't his style.

He stands out for a few reasons. The first being that he's stupidly tall. Somewhere between generically handsome famous actor and NBA superstar. The second is that he's painfully American. Painfully Chicagoan. Did you know that's a recognized word, Chicagoan? That's seriously legit. Not that London doesn't get millions of tourists, plenty of them even more painfully American than he is, but most of them don't plan on actually staying.

Immediately upon arrival, some Night Council representatives had taken him aside just for a nice 'friendly' chat over tea. Actual honest to god tea. It's not an exaggeration here, apparently. Apparently the American side of the magical authorities had already gotten in contact to warn them, who in turn were to warn him. Yeah yeah yeah, he's heard it all enough times and managed not to get his head lopped off. Yet. That's why he's going to stay nice and quiet and try again to have a mediocre life.

Pff, yeah, because that's worked out so well for him in the past.

2 Harry has had to deal with a lot of anger in his life. He's been learning to use it to his advantage, but with a lot of undirected power flowing through him and not the cleanest slate, things can get a little...out of control when he's emotional. Sometimes there are triggers for that.

Hurting children is one of those triggers.

He could straight up incinerate this vampire chowing down on a wayward kid; that would be no problem. It's thinking about the longer-term consequences that stays his hand...at least for a brief moment. There are forces here that are bigger than him (when aren't there?), and doing the wrong thing at the wrong time could spark an all-out war. Or worse. Hell's bells, there's a reason he fell in with the Hillingdon folk.

But this is not something he can see and just let pass. So up goes his trusty blasting rod (hey, look, it sounds cooler than 'magic wand'). In his other hand, the runes of his staff begin to glow a deep and angry red, a heat he can feel radiating off it. "I give you one chance to drop the kid, or there won't be enough ashes of you left to sneeze at." It's more warning than he used to give.

6 "No, no, I'm not--that's really flattering, but, see, I'm not looking--" The fellow witches are having none of it, gladly blessing him with the good fortune to hopefully find someone to take home or get taken home by. He's not sure which seems more undignified: that they think he needs the help, or that they knew he was single without him ever saying so.

But this place is thrumming with positive magical energy, seems to be a nice neutral place to hang out, and hey, who doesn't like a party? With a lot of tradition thrown in but plenty of modernity to fit the times. While he's never stupid enough to go anywhere unarmed unless there's an agreement he has to adhere to, he thinks nothing of the blasting rod tucked away. He actually looks like a relatively normal person tonight.

Look, Harry Dresden may not have the smoothest of moves, but he is all sorts of down for a party.

8 Throw something at him. He's almost always neck deep up a shit creek.

1b

[divinerighttorule]

At the knock, it takes a few moments, but a young woman finally opens the door. Her right brow arches slightly, and her heads tilts to the side. She looks him over for a few seconds before she shrugs her shoulders.

"Are you my tour guide?"

Azula - Avatar: The Last Airbender - Fae (Seelie)

[divinerighttorule]

London Calling

Azula refused to use public transportation. Why should she, when she had so many better ways to travel? But then she'd tried to open a Door and realised that it wouldn't budge. That was the first time she'd heard about 'Redbright' and 'Circle Daybreak.'

So, with entirely friendly and not at all spy motives, she made a circuit of their territories, assessing the men and women she met there. Of the most interest to her was the Institute herself.

Which she'd gained entrance to on a tour basis by playing the role of a prospective student. The wards kept her from using her powers and from being able to access the Other Realm, but, well. There was nothing wrong with looking around.


Dark Side/Get Your Shovel

"You promised me money!"

"And you'll have it. Five-hundred-thousand pounds, as a matter of fact."

"My house burned down!"

"So? You made a deal. A favour for me in exchange for 'at least three-hundred-thousand pounds.'"

"To pay off the loan on the house! Not to--"

"You never set any conditions."

"Damn you! I'm not doing anything for you!"

"Oh, really?" Azula's left brow arched. "Is that your final decision?"

"You're damned right it is."

"Very well."

She raised her hand and shot a bolt of lightning into his chest. The man was dead in seconds, and she leaned over him, opening her mouth above his barely parted lips. She drew a breath in, and his spirit rose from him and slipped down her throat. She leaned her head back and sighed, like she'd just had a fine meal.

"Then that will do as payment."


Just Dance

The nature of the party baffled her. There was nothing like this in the Dragon Court -- what the Eastern Asian fae court she belonged to called itself. Their courts were divided, as the Seelie and Unseelie here, into the elements, though she knew there were others in the same regions that ran differently. In the elemental courts, the Seelie and Unseelie -- called youkai and youma by the Japanese traditions -- mixed together. The real definition came from their elements.

The Dragon Clan were specialised in fire.

Still, there was no dancing, especially not like this, in her father's court. Why people thought it was enjoyable, she couldn't quite say, but she was curious to understand it. After all, if she was to live in this area for awhile, searching for a legend among her people her father had recently cause to believe was real, she would have to adjust to their customs.

Which meant a girl who looked sixteen was sitting on the sidelines, merely watching the action.


Choose your own adventure

Hit me with your best shot!

Dark Side

[entitles]

Now, here was an intriguing individual. She wasn't familiar to him, although she was obviously of his kind. His own powers tended to lean fiery as well, although his was star-fire stronger at night.

And, of course, he always enjoyed the company of those willing to be a bit ruthless towards humans. He stood a few feet behind her, so light on his feet that his arrival barely made any sound at all.

"It's a shame when they back out so fast," he said, "Less fun that way. But I suppose payment is payment."

Ezio Auditore | Assassin's Creed | Vampire

[dominus]

Dark Side

He's easy to pick out in a crowd: tall, intense, possessed of a perpetually wafting sense of superiority -- his mark that is, not Ezio. Ezio is quiet, unassuming, some club goer heading home during the small hours with a smear of body glitter - not his - on his lapel and a few new numbers in his phone. This guy walks straight-backed and heel first like he's ex-military, the soles of his shoes a heavy staccato beat on the pavement, but Ezio isn't interested in what he was or who he is now or even what his name is, just that he's warm and healthy and some level of fucked up. It's her yelp he still hears in the back of his mind, the way that petite barfly had cringed next to him when this guy had walked in the place, the way she chose to hide herself behind a perfect stranger's back rather than be seen by Tall and Superior's stony-eyed stare.

It's less out of altruism that he goes for the real pricks of society these days; they're just convenient. No one feels sad when bad things happen to horrible people.

His mark's not heading for the tube station. Good. Time to act fast before he can get home.

The heat wave is still going strong this late in the night, reminding him of scorching Roman summers, inescapable and prickling the back of Ezio's neck. Or maybe it's something else, an awareness growing with each second as he ducks down a side street, to cut this guy off at the alley's dark end and finish this quick game. It doesn't matter if he's scared or not or even cottons onto what happens until it's too late. His mark is only a brief struggle, a meal at the point of Ezio's fangs.

That feeling, that awareness grows in intensity, in time with the buckling of his prey's knees. His aim is purposely off so the weight in his arms won't muss his shirt and bleed out when he pulls his mouth away. Ezio doesn't have to take all of it, even if he'd like to; it's more convenient in the long run. Less bodies, less questions, less coroners to pay off and cops to charm.

He tucks him up beside an overturned rubbish bin. "You were mugged by a stranger who left you for dead. And you will end things with her," Ezio says to him in a voice that won't carry far, that's low, soporific, painting the suggestion with broad strokes to be filled in by the man's own imagination once he can struggle his way to proper wakefulness. That last part? Well, old habits die hard. The tall, trim vampire was clearly never there, and he finds a certain satisfaction in the dull light of understanding winking in his victim's drowsy eyes.

Then the man drops off in a swoon from his unwilling donation and Ezio stands, rolling his shoulders.

"Spying is not very nice," he remarks into the darkness, meant to be heard by whatever it is he can feel is peeking in on him. If he's worried about witnesses, it doesn't show. Maybe it's high time to meet his new neighbors, maybe it's an old friend or a steadfast ally - Christ knows they could use more than a few of those.

(( replies will be a little slow; i wanted to get this down asap! ))

[stauncherhearted]

Vampires were nothing new to Nancy. She'd been working with them since she'd been told she was old enough. Marks on her neck and wrists, even some on her inner-thighs proved that she knew them, but such scars were easily covered by cosmetics and magic. No one really wanted to feed off of a girl who'd already been someone's dinner.

She hadn't meant to be spying. But the way the man in front of her had ducked into the alley had caught her attention, and she'd only meant to peek. And here she was, watching as one man sunk his fangs into the other, and- gave him some rather interesting orders. Consider her interest piqued.

"I wasn't spying," Nancy says, her voice clear except for the slight hint of alcohol on her breath. "I glanced." She reached up and gently touched the charm around her neck, a small amulet to keep vampires from being able to use their powers of persuasion and hypnosis against her. "I didn't mean to disturb you, sir."

She didn't want trouble. Just to make her living.

arthur / inception / human / multiple

[specifiercity]

[ENEMY TERRITORY]

If the streets were busy, he wouldn't be worried. As it is, the sun just set and the side streets are quiet, and Arthur knows this is disputed territory. Any other human would be blissfully unaware, but Arthur's followed enough unaffiliated vampires down to these parts to know just how wretched it is beneath the surface.

It's not as though he can't defend himself. His pocket knife would do well enough to hinder anyone that attacked, but at least when he's working a job he has a few extra supplies to keep the supernatural creatures from killing him. But right now he's not working a job. He's taking a "short cut" because the train was broken down and he doesn't know the bus routes well enough to get back home, and somehow he ended up here.

He really hopes he won't have to deal with any trouble tonight.

[GET YOUR SHOVEL]

"Fuck!"

Arthur kicks a wet patch of grass and then runs his free hand through his hair, staring down at the body while his shoulders heave with the effort of catching his breath. As it slows he starts to remember himself - he shakes his head, then scans the horizon, but it's the same marshy stretch of land that it was before the werewolf jumped out at him. No lights, nothing to indicate that someone had heard the snarling, the gunshot, or the shout immediately following all of it. He can see the glow of the city, but that's far off, and the only real source of light is the full moon overhead.

He puts the safety back on with an impatient sigh, holsters the pistol and then crouches to look for the casing of the silver bullet. He'll check for an exit wound, but with the angle and the location of the shot he doubts he'll be able to recover anything. He'll have to hide it though, and that presents an issue. He has nothing on him but his pistol, a couple knives, and a pair of binoculars - this wasn't even supposed to be an assassination, and certainly not a werewolf assassination.

But the plan's gone to shit for now, and he has to deal with this. He scans the horizon once more and pulls out his phone, searching for a name and then hitting call. After a moment he says:

"Hey, you got a shovel?"

[divinerighttorule]

Azula dislikes venturing into vampire territory. However, if she wants to get into Daybreak territory, she has to walk through to it. Those witches will learn not to block fae comings and going. A few burned buildings ought to send the right message. But, well... When she's alone, she's careful.

Which is when she hears something coming. Not a vampire. Too quiet. Not a werewolf. Wrong feel. Not a witch. No magic. Not a fae. So... human.

She slips down an alley, just visible from the sidewalk. Just a young girl, it probably looks like, slumming it where the police are less likely to take notice and charge her with loitering. But she keeps her gaze on the man approaching. She doesn't look down or away, almost challenging him to say anything.

joseph joestar | jojo's bizarre adventure

[constartist]

GET YOUR SHOVEL ( metahuman )

[ The Joestars had never been strangers to the art of vampire-hunting.

Indeed, they had proven rather inclined toward it, and Joseph is no exception. He's lived in London for most of his life, and he's been fed every sweeping tale of the struggle between his grandfather and the vampire who finally claimed his life, and he's heard each many times over since childhood. Dio Brando played the role of the monster under his bed since before he could truly understand who, or what, he even was. Vampire-killing had been in his life since before he could remember... but it's only recently that he's been able to do it, much to his grandmother's dismay.

And he's finding that he's pretty good at it.

He drags the still-smoldering remains of his latest accomplishment away from the graveyard he'd found him skulking around in. In one hand is the glowing stump of the fellow's missing arm, and in the other, he grasps the back of his collar. His face is caved, and melting, glowing like stoked embers. He drops the remains beside the shovel he'd found leaned up against a mausoleum, well outside of the cemetery's fence. He bends down to pick up a shovel -- and then he hears foliage. Twigs snapping.

Did this guy have friends looking for him? Joseph sure hopes so as he turns, grinning. ]

Hey, pal! You just here to enjoy the scenery, or do you wanna make some easy money?

[ Because if you're going to mill around like that, he may have to do something about it. ]

STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM ( seelie fae )

[ Joseph typically finds himself enjoying various human festivities, including the more competitive ones... or, rather, he enjoys them when he wins.

Joseph may not be on the field himself, no, but this is as much a game to him as it is to the athletes on the court. Among his favourite pass times at these events is to pick a side he likes - based usually on something arbitrary. Uniform colour, whether he likes left or right best that day, media bias, or some other whim and fancy. He likes to pick a side, a team, an athlete, and he likes to make sure that they win. He never wagers anything on it, as that seems likely enough to take the fun out of it all.

He'd picked the player on the left side of the court, and he wasn't winning... not yet, anyways. He turns his focus to the player on the opposing side as the ball speeds between the players. He keeps his interference minimal as a rule - it's more fun that way, anyways. He doesn't do much. He just makes the ball look deceptively close, and-- a swing and a miss. ]

Wow. Man. That's gotta be a tough break, huh? How'd that even happen?

[ He grabs a strawberry from your basket - maybe he's with you, and maybe he isn't. Either way, he still seems to assume that he's entitled to a strawberry. Joseph leans back, chuckling, and bites into it. ]

ENEMY TERRITORY ( werewolf )

[ All he wanted was to buy some god damn orchids, and already, there's someone on his tail. Which wouldn't usually be a problem, but he's got some important cargo to get back to the house.

Joseph cradles the plastic pot carefully in one hand as he walks. He suppresses a sigh as he realizes. He should have figured this would happen. He'd been warned about this part of town. At first, Joseph keeps his cool; he can't get a read on what's following him yet, but he knows that what he smells isn't human. Perhaps if he keeps walking, it'll be seen that he was only there for the florist in town.

... and halfway home, he's had no such luck. He's been as unassuming as he can manage, and he still smells them. Now, he's annoyed - he doesn't know what your deal is, mystery being, but his head hurts way too much to care.

He stops, takes a quick whiff of the air, and turns. ] Listen up! I'd normally be real happy to wipe the streets with you, but I've got places to be today. Important places. So if we could maybe... I dunno, reschedule this ass-whooping? That'd be great.

[ Because by God, it's Mother's Day, and these orchids are getting to Granny Erina in one piece if he has to personally kill a man to make it happen. ]

( up for any prompt, and i'll adapt to any style! )

Strawberries and Cream

[divinerighttorule]

[Fair is fair.

Azula has no specific interest in this match. Or any of them. She's here because it's "culturally important," and she is in London as a kind of exchange student and ambassador for her court. Still, seeing that kind of minor interference... She smirks just a little and tilts her head. The opposing side goes to serve, and a flare of sunlight catches their eye, making the serve go wild.]

The bad luck seems to be catching.

[For now, she'll ignore his rudeness in eating her food. If it continues, of course, there may be cause to mention it. Or punish it.]

Hanzou Urushihara - Hataraku Maou-Sama - Ghost - Choose Your Own Adventure!

[lazyrebellion]

Breaking news of the day: The Five Stages of Grief were bullshit.

Or at least they only applied when you could see your death coming. Urushihara sure wished his psychology professor had told him that. Instead, he got to sit in class all witty and invincible and nodding his head like 'when I'm old and dying, I'll immediately accept that I'm getting the hell off this planet! I'm gonna use my last breath to tell everyone I ever hated to fuck off!' Then a week later, he's on a school trip to England and SADS certainly doesn't care if he's yet to tell his roommates that they're assholes. Next thing he knows, he's watching his classmates freak out over some collapsed dude who uses the exact same purple hair-dye as him and well, shit.

So maybe he'd gotten no closer to "acceptance" than he had three months ago. At least his English had gotten pretty on point. That was cool.

Also kinda cool? Scaring the hell out of people. If there was ever a cherry on his sundae, it was finding the lone jerk checking their phone at the crosswalk and sending them messages. And hey, what do you know? There was one right there!

Here's hoping they like the never-ending spam of "助けて！” from every single one of their contacts, because that was what they were getting. Sucker.

[divinerighttorule]

"Don't you seem bored," came the smooth, almost drawling female voice behind the spirit. "Still, I suppose that is a pretty useful trick."

Ghosts were always so interesting. They were fun to play with, especially when she got to toy with her meal. Their moral quandries -- which were often what kept them in this world -- were interesting. And fun to smile to herself about. Besides, it was something to do that wasn't 'pretend to be mortal.'

She was bored of that by now.

Ekko / League of Legends | Metahuman

[chronobreak]

[Get your shovel]

There's a body right outside where his gang's old hideout used to be. He can't help it, his face turns into a scowl. There's gang violence and then there's this. This is a whole lot more like some rouge werewolf found him and ripped him up.

He knows this kid, hell, he practically grew up with him. The goggles around his neck... There's nobody else with goggles like that.

He'd loop back three minutes but just judging from the time of day it's definitely not enough. So he'll go find a shovel, start digging a grave. He knows this kid, and he also knows he didn't have anybody but their gang.

And their gang, probably wisely, isn't here. After he's done here he'll take the goggles to the memorial and paint Anjua's face onto it like he's had to with so many others.

[Just dance]

He feels more than a little awkward here. He knows a couple of these witches from the Institute, but on the whole he feels misplaced. Looking for love? Please, his last crush ended with that girl started talking to her weapons. He definitely knows how to pick them. And by definitely he means not at all.

It's probably best for him to remain unattached. At least for now. While he's here though, he might as will knock back a couple more of those drinks.

Just dance

[divinerighttorule]

"You look about as thrilled to be here as I am."

Granted, she is learning. Learning what mortals who looked her age consider to be a good time. She isn't impressed. She'd much rather be spending her time in a dojo or gym, either honing her martial arts or learning kickboxing. The dance... Well, it's cute that some of the people there are looking for love. If "cute" means "sickeningly pathetic," as it always seems to when other people speak about it.

Still. This is what people do, isn't it? Find someone to commiserate with if they're miserable at a social event.