Test Drive Meme: November 2015

[undergroundmods]

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HAPPY HALLOWEEN.

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) GHOST TOWN. (31st October) Ghosts, it's your chance to shine! Whether you want to or not, actually. Even humans are more sensitive to ghostly activity tonight, so be careful where you choose to make your haunts.

2) BEHIND THE VEIL. (31st October) Even the faintest disturbance of magic could disrupt the veil between worlds tonight. Will you stumble into the Other Realm? Or will they find you? It's all blurring into one...

3) SAMHAIN. (31st October) Known to the public as Halloween and to witches as Samhain, tonight is the night when all manner of supernatural creatures come out to play and the humans will be none the wiser. Of course, if you're a witch, tonight is much more serious business. The veil between the worlds is thin, and magic can easily reach through the cracks.

4) FANCY DRESS. Or you could dress up and go to a Halloween party, where you can revel in what you are without suspicion. Just make sure you stain your costume with fake blood, not actual blood, mm'kay?

5) ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK. There's something behind you...

6) HOUSE OF HORRORS. Okay, whose stupid idea was it to venture into a haunted house tonight? Really, you're every horror movie trope waiting to happen. Hope you brought a comfortable sleeping bag.

7) BONFIRE NIGHT. (5th November) Remember, remember, the 5th of November. Gunpowder, treason and plot. Bonfire Night is a long-standing tradition in the UK, commemorating that time back in 1605 when Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament. (They failed.) Tonight, light a bonfire, set off some fireworks and watch your guy burn. Lovely, isn't it?

8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Anything goes.

Comments

Lord Colin Coward : Sherlock Holmes (2009) : vampire

[occultdisciple]

Samhain

[Lord Colin Coward is no longer a witch. Which, at times, he deeply regrets. Still, had he not sacrificed that power for a different sort, he'd have been at the end of a rope at the age of thirty-three and had nothing beyong that. The loss was worth the gain.

Even so, he held the night in high regard.

It wasn't difficult to find places where rituals were being held -- Daybreak and Midnight. The psychology of the groups had changed very little from his day. Favoured haunts would always be favoured, especially since he did know many of the nooks and crannies were a Midnight coven might practice in secret.

To each, he brought a small gift as a token of good will, and he participated in the rituals that didn't require his magic to be done.]


Fancy Dress

Lord Colin Coward had to appear at one party at the very least tonight. He was, after all, a new arrival to London and deeply involved in politics. He had to be seen associating with all the right (and some of the wrong) people. If he wanted to have his name known -- as was crucial for getting business done -- then he needed to be noticed.

The outfit he'd chosen was one of his own -- the pinnacle of an upstanding Victorian gentlemen. For dramatic effect, the shirt's collar and a small portion of each of its sleeves had fake blood on it, as did the tips of a few fingers on his left hand and the very corner of his mouth, spotted there as if someone had tried dabbing the blood away and missed a bit. The handkerchief in his breast pocket also bore the slightest traces of blood that hadn't quite been hidden.

Everything about it suggested 'vampire.' He'd received a few compliments about it being clever. Little did any of them know.

"Come now," he said to someone, changing their empty glass of wine for a full one taken from a passing waiter. "We mustn't have someone going thirsty."


Bonfire Night

Guy Fawkes.

Such a decent plan, all spoiled by one man stupidly warning a relative of decent moral conduct. At least his own attempt on government had been betrayed by someone actively snooping and finding out what they were up to. Fawkes and his men had only themselves to blame.

As an effigy went up in flames, Coward smirked a little, raising a glass of Scotch.

"Better you than me, my friend."


By Daylight

[The Commissioner of Police of the Metropolis cannot just be a politician, content to sit in his tower and look out over the masses. If he were to be effective and respected, he has to be out among the people. Which is exactly what Lord Coward is doing today.

With his sire's signet ring on his finger and its carefully disguised Daylight jewel hidden in it, he can walk the streets without concern for letting on what he truly is.

It's a lovely day, really. The crisp air of autumn and a cool brush of wind while the sun shines.]

God, London's changed since I was a boy. [He says it lightly, very conversationally, to a person nearby then gives them an easy smile.] I don't suppose you can tell me the best place for a cup of good tea, can you?


Choose Your Own

(Got another situation in mind that you'd like to do? Hit me up!)

fancy dress

[stauncherhearted]

A damn good vampire costume, Nancy thought. There was something about it that made it truly accurate- not the sort of thing you'd see on the telly, by far. which was what drew her to this man in the first place. For her part, Nancy was lacking creativity, just as much. She'd picked up a silly black hat from a local shop, and went as a more readily accepted image of a witch.

What- you didn't think they all had pointed hats in their closet, did you?

This man was bold, too, replacing her glass, and Nancy had to raise it to him, in a sort of appreciative toast. "No, can't have that." She eyed him carefully. "You've gotten plenty to drink, I assume?" She glances towards the blood on his collar. Fake, from the way it looked. It would be brown by now, if it were real.

[wordswitch]

Bonfire Night is awfully loud, isn't it?

Sophie winces at the booming sound of fireworks and pulls her large, slouchy hat further over her ears. She doesn't quite know what's wrong with her these days--she feels like she's a different person than she used to be before leaving school.

But maybe this is just what growing up feels like.

She's passing by a bonfire when she hears someone talking--she can't make out what he's saying, but she thinks he's speaking to her.

"...excuse me?" she asks, wishing herself far away.

By Daylight

[dredefulchilde]

Under his shirt, Joss wears a small gold cross with a daylight gem in the middle. It's a perverse reminder of the life he'd had for just a tiny handful of years before the arrival of Yersinia Pestis on Albion's misty shore. Back when he'd been destined for a life in the Church, maybe even a Bishop's mitre like his father. Back when he'd been human.

What a joke that was.

He waves aside Mrs. Brown, who hovers in the background anxiously, overawed by the fact that the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police approached her little boy for a chat. Joscelin, on the other hand, looks less than impressed.

"What do you really want, Coward? You've got some bloody nerve looking me up after what Islington did."

Njoki Agbede : OC : Witch

[aldabeyoun]

#4.
While Halloween is something she's familiar with and finds good for a laugh, Samhain still feels new. It's not a holiday she'd grown up with, nor is it one that she would usually work on. It's a holiday, but not her holiday. Maybe in a few years, when she's gotten more of a feel for the ebb and flow of power in London, but not tonight. Spirits, ghosts, and anything intangible aren't really something she's good with. All she really wants is something sturdy she can hold and understand that way.

She'd been invited out to a party by a friend of a friend and not having anything else to do that evening, decided that it might be worth while. Her costume is plain: black clothing and a bird skull mask.

#8.
Njoki knew that some people looked down on the sort of work she did, but some people¹ looked down on everyone and anyone in the service industries. Then again, some people just found her work and her methods distasteful and that was something she could wholeheartedly appreciate. Fleshcrafting tends to be messy, but it has its uses.

She knows that she could've specialized in the living and gone on to sculpt warm bodies, but her skills don't run to that particular bent. No, the (un)dead is where she's been called and that's where she's needed.

Unfortunately, while the undead may call, they don't always give the best directions. Holding her cellphone in one hand, she places her travel kit at her feet and tries to balance her umbrella while scrolling through google maps. Where is that damned address?

-----
[1] N.B. In this case, 'some people' can be read as 'supercilious arseholes who think themselves better than everyone, but still can't eat an apple and shit a fruit salad'. It's a term with layers of meaning.

[protagonized]

There were four words in the invitation that Simon got that made his flatmate go into paroxysms of glee and drag him over to the party, and those were "fancy dress" and "open bar." The former Simon has never been particularly fond of, but the latter is a necessity now that he's here and Matt has abandoned him to go gadding off somewhere.

Simon is a bit fuzzy at this point on how many drinks he's had, but even though he's not entirely steady on his feet he still doesn't feel comfortable with being dressed up (by Matt) in a rather cheap rendition of the latest superhero movie du jour. He is resolutely a wallflower.

He's just grabbing another drink so he can go back to the corner where he's been playing phone games and getting drunk for the better part of an hour when he stumbles and ends up spilling part of it on the unsuspecting reveler he's just bumped into.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry. Here, let me clean that up for you..."

#4

[occultdisciple]

"A plague doctor," Lord Coward murmured when somewhat nearby. His lips curled slightly into a faint smile, and he gave a nod. "Very classic. And, sadly, quite under-appreciated nowadays."

Then again, they were relics now. Their time was long since passed, and modern entertainment showed them for an unsettling effect, but they weren't regarded like they once were. Still, it drew the eye. Especially one that knew what they were looking at.

8

[kolebokor]

Pierre is still getting used to London, but one thing he's noted is people don't really talk to strangers in the city. Even when they're clearly in need of help. He's content to just keep going on with his day, but he can't really just leave this child out in the rain on their own, so he wanders over. Hands stuffed in his coat pockets, he doesn't really know how to turn off his tendency to loom imposingly, but he really is here to help.

"Lost?" Pierre asks, voice gruff and low. He's great at this.

Jean-Claude | Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter | Vampire

[baisant]

FANCY DRESS
Far be it from Jean-Claude to turn down the occassion for fancy dress. When he arrives to the party, he's dressed up to the nines. But not in just any old attire. His hair is worn loose and gently curling about his face, soft and touchable. His shirt is white linen, lace at the collar and at the cuffs. He has a doublet on over it, black silk brocade with silver embroidery that catches the light just so, and above that, a black leather jerkin. With black hose, black stockings, and black shining boots with a shining silver buckle, a short black cape, black leather gloves, and a large black hat with a black feather complete the outfit. With all the black leather and black fabric, and his hair like this, it makes his skin look even paler than usual, nearly deathly white, and his midnight blue eye nearly glowing in the midst of it. He looks every inch, from the tip of his hat to the toe of his shoe, as though he has stepped directly out of some Renaissance Court. (Maybe because, to some degree, he has.)

He smiles charmingly as you approach, sweeping the hat off in a bow that might have looked extreme for any other, but for him it is entirely natural. He's gorgeous, almost too much so, but his face is just handsome enough not to be beautiful. As he straightens, the smile fades into something coy. He's old enough to be able to hide his fangs in polite company, and he's fed recently enough that his skin should be warm, if you manage to get close.

"It is a fine night for such an affair, is it not," he purrs, his accent French in origin, his voice low and warm, coy in all the right ways (he's had centuries to get it right, this level of flirtation, after all). "Though I dare say it will be finer still in your company."


ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK
The road is dark. Wet, though the rain has stopped. It's late at night, and there is no moon in the sky, and the only light is coming from the streetlamps overhead. Unfortunately, up ahead, there seems to be one out. It is right in your path, and you must pass through this patch of darkness to get where you're going. Unless you turn back, of course. But that would be silly. It's just dark, right?

That is when he appears, from the shadows in front of you. As if he'd emerging out of them. His eyes like blue fire, his skin as pale as the moonlight itself. He is dressed smartly, dark trousers, knee-high dark leather boots. He has a black velveteen frock coat buttoned tight and drawn up close against him, as if to shut out the chill of the night air, but even looking at him there is still something... Off. If one knows where to look for such qualities. He raises one hand to the corner of his mouth to touch a white handkerchief to it, and it comes away with a dark spot of color, that might just be visible before he tucks it into his pocket.

He glances up at you, dipping his head in apology. "I apologize if I have startled you," he says. His voice is low, warm. Seductive. (He's had practice.) The accent helps. (French.) "You'd best be on your guard. It is not safe out here in the night in the dark at this hour." He glances over his shoulder, then back at you. "You never know what you might run across."


CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE
[ooc: Do you have another idea? HAVE AT ME!!! PM if you want to discuss, otherwise go wild!]

[aldabeyoun]

Njoki hadn't really planned to go up and talk to the stranger in black and white, but the costume was beautiful enough that she was curious. Did he make it himself? She wants to ask and when he bows to her, she stifles a laugh and regrets her decision. Men that are charming and coy are rarely her type and it shows in the set of her shoulders, a brief change in her posture.

...and then he speaks and she breaks into a bright, toothy smile that is only partly hidden by her mask. His accent pleases her and she hopes that he is likewise amused by her own.

"You're being over generous."

[protagonized]

It's late. Far later than Simon wants to be out--closer to dawn that to midnight. He doesn't remember the last time he's slept. It's been at least two days, he figures, though he isn't quite sure where tonight fits in with all that.

It's very dark, and very cold and in his over-caffeinated state he distantly thinks that this would be a perfect setting for a horror movie.

Which means that Simon nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees a figure suddenly looming out of the darkness. A horror movie indeed. The man is tall and more elegantly dressed than Simon's ever seen outside of the television--and suddenly Simon can smell lots of it.

But not in the man. Simon realizes with a start that man doesn't smell alive. At all.

He stumbles backwards in alarm, tripping over his feet in his hurry to get away from the man.

Because apparently vampires are real.

Who knew?

2

[stauncherhearted]

Nancy is no stranger to the dark streets. They're her home, after all. Even in the cold, she's dressed scantily, kept warm by a clever spell she'd worked before she'd left. Her high-heeled black-suede boots go up over her knees, and her short skirt leaves an inviting stripe of pale, naked flesh visible. Her shirt is low, her hair half-piled up on her head in a multitude of ginger curls. Her makeup heavy, and lipstick bright red. It's easy to tell what she's doing here on the street, just as she can nearly tell exactly what it is that this man has just done, too.

Oh, who else would walk through the streets of London dressed like that, keeping to the dark alleys, but a vampire?

She had her charm on, settled deep in her cleavage, keeping her safe from being compelled into doing anything against her will.

But that still doesn't stop her from gasping at his sudden appearance, even before she surmises what has just happened.

"I've run into worse," she says coolly, her heart-beat returning to normal from how it had spiked at his arrival. "But thank you." Don't be mean to the vampires, Nancy. It's never good, when they're your main source of income. "You didn't startle me too much."

[wronganswer]

Anderson isn't exactly comfortable being so blatantly flirted with. It's happened before, but she always ends up feeling like it's not precisely directed at her. She's a guard, after all-- she's not in fancy dress herself. The sedate black of her form-fitting clothes is only to cover up some discreet body armor and her well-concealed weapons.

She's here in the employ of their host, meant to keep the peace and prevent violence. It's rather a more benign position than she usually gets; Anderson is no stranger to dirty work.

All that said, she isn't confrontational at being addressed like this. She raises an eyebrow and answers with, "You have a funny definition of who you want as company." People in her position get a reputation as being ruthless shadows, and if Anderson doesn't entirely merit that, it's not like anyone else knows it from looking at her.

Mickey Mouse | Disney's Fantasia (1940): The Sorcerer's Apprentice | Witch

[sorcerersapprentice]

[Samhain]

[Mickey knows that tonight is a special night for witches but darn it if he doesn't just love Halloween. He has his shop all decorated and there's a little bowl of candy outside just in case some kids are passing by. Pluto, his loyal hound, is dozing by the door.

In the meantime, he'll be heading out to a Daybreak ritual. If nothing else, he has to prove he's responsible since he's new at this. But it's hard not to be distracted by the festive aspect of the night.]

[Bonfire Night]

[Mickey's out to see the fireworks. Maybe light off a few of them himself. He does his best to skirt around people, trying to stay out of trouble as he makes his way towards them. However, it's a bit hard with the burning effigies and everyone else having a good time around him. Not that he blames them, of course.]

Sorry! Didn't see you there.

[he says sheepishly after bumping into someone.]

You wouldn't happen to know where the fireworks are, would you?

[Choose your own adventure]

[Down a quite little street in London, you might find this shop. It's a little run down, but well kept, and you were certain that there wasn't something there before. "Mickey's House of Magic" the sign proudly proclaims, and you stare at it a little confused because magic can't be real.

But you enter anyway, and find it to be a quaint little shop with various odds and ends, and is that broom sweeping by itself in the corner. However, you're distracted by a bark and suddenly have to deal with the enthusiastic greetings of a dog who clearly wishes to slobber all over you (in the friendliest way possible of course)]

Pluto, down! Sorry, he's a little too friendly. Can I help you?

[ooc: So this is Mickey Mouse, based off the 1940 short from Fantasia, The Sorcerer's Apprentice. He's a Circle Daybreak witch who's been training under another witch, Yen sid, but has struck out on his own now to make his fortune in the world. He owns a small shop and specializes in magic objects. He's not completely interested in politics, but is eager to prove himself and help out where he can. Also, not a mouse.]

Bonfire night

[ensorceleur]

[Vivienne is none too impressed with the man so inelegantly bumping into her, and it shows on her face, but at least he has the decency to apologise. More than she can say for most she's encountered in London, and she dusts off her shoulder with a soft "not to worry," and a tight smile.]

[His question about the fireworks has her arching an eyebrow and she inclines her head in the direction she was heading before Mickey so rudely bumped into her.]

This way, dear. [Might as well walk him to the park, lest he get himself in some kind of trouble on the way.] Do try to pay attention to where you're walking.

Sophie Hatter | Howl's Moving Castle (Book Version) | Witch

[wordswitch]

[Samhain]

Hatter's Milliners and Haberdashers has somehow held on in an age where hats are are only worn to weddings and occasionally the odd Royal Ascot, and part of that is because of its ability to adapt.

This includes producing a new line of hats for Halloween.

Sophie Hatter, oldest of three, sits at a stall the night before Halloween and trims a witch's hat with straw and wax pumpkins. "You're quite an intimidating hat, aren't you?" she tells it for lack of anyone else to talk to. "You're going to spook the neighbors, I'm sure."

[Bonfire Night]

Sophie doesn't quite know what's been wrong with her lately. She feels mousey, insignificant. Her younger sisters are still in school and off to accomplish great things (as a pastry chef and a witch, respectively), but she's elected to stay on with the family business so she can eventually take it over one day. It's not a bad job, making hats--there are days when it's just her in the workshop and she can listen to music or an audiobook while she works. And she figures she doesn't need friends, really. Still, the mousy feeling persists and as she wanders back to the shop she wonders why she never found crowds so utterly exhausting before. There are people everywhere. They're loud and drunk and the sounds of firecrackers and bonfires threaten to overwhelm her.

She balls up her fists and tries to push her way through the crowd, back to the relative safety of her flat above the shop.

It's no good. The crowd surges and pushes her along with it, and she's helpless to resist.

[Choose your own adventure]

It's rare that Sophie actually makes an appearance in the shop proper - they have a sales staff to see to customers while she sits in the back trimming up new stock. Unfortunately, one of the sales girls has unexpectedly fallen ill and the store's proprietress, Sophie's stepmother, wants her to fill in at the last moment.

She gives a shaky smile to the new customers as they come in. It's surprisingly crowded today. Given that it's November already, doubtless people are beginning their hunt for holiday gifts.

"Hello. What can I help you find?"

At first glance, the hats don't seem out of the ordinary. Just the standard assortment of the kind of hats and fascinators seen at weddings all over the country, with a small "gentlemen's" section near the counter and and even smaller collection of wool felt cloches for the winter, but to a certain kind of observer, they may seem like something more...

3

[anniesgonemad]

it really is gift season. Annie isn't fully sure what sort of holidays the Fae celebrate, but she knows Christmas is coming, and is already on a mission to look for the best possible gifts for what few friends she had. So, mostly for her grandmother and her boyfriend, which is precisely why there's a question about Fae running through her head.

Even if she doesn't find a gift for Finnick in the milliner's, it's still an interesting store she'd yet to enter. "Hullo," Annie says, with a timid wave. "Uhm, just, ah, looking- thinking about holiday gifts. My grandmother. And, uhm. My boyfriend." The very mention of her actually having a boyfriend sends a scarlet blush across her cheeks, nearly matching her hair.

[Bonfire Night]

[broiling]

In Zuko's opinion, England had too many holidays. Why he always got caught up in a celebratory crowd was beyond him. It wasn't like he picked these walking routes on purpose. In order to wade through the crowd he had his arm out shoving people aside to make a pathway out of this crazy mess, that was until he was practically tripping over a girl.

"Hey, watch it."

He caught the look at her face however and she didn't look exactly pleased to be there either. He decided he was being unfair. Maybe she needed help.

"Are you okay?"

I feel like I'm doing this too late to use any of the Halloween or Guy Fawkes prompts...

[smugfox]

8) The weather was getting cold and this was England, so it being rainy was kind of a given. Not the nicest weather to stroll about in, but here Reynard was anyway. He stepped under the ledge of a building for a few moments, shaking himself off on instinct. The gesture got him regarded with a strange look by a passing old couple and so he caught himself. Right, no fur at the moment.

Instead he had a worn leather jacket, jeans and a pair of boots that had seen better days. He needed new clothes, but up here wasn't the place to get them. The means to buy them, however, that was a different matter. Sure, he was a thief, but there were the right times and places to steal and that was something much easier done up here than anywhere else.

With that conclusion in mind he started walking again, only to stumble over his own feet - just a bit and ever so artfully - and walk into the person coming towards him. His hand worked quickly, but so did his instincts and he decided not to risk it.

"Oh, do excuse me. Here, I almost made you lose something."

He held his hand out, showing the item he'd just attempted to steal and smiling with all the open innocence he could muster. Which was really quite a lot when compared to how innocent he actually was, which would be not at all.


[ooc: Reynard is an outcast fae who has been around for about a millenia and is the same character from all those lovely folk tales about cunning foxes, so if there is any chance of your character recognizing him by appearance or reputation, go ahead and assume. Same for actually having met him before, he gets around.

My prompt is generic, because I couldn't think of anything better, but I'm open to literally anything, anywhere, he has a bit of a habit to just show up wherever, so feel free to even just drop me a location and I can write up a personal starter just for your lovely self.]

[knightscode]

Lancelot is out of uniform, dressed in a plain grey v-neck sweater and faded jeans as he walks his dog in the fading evening light. Reynard can probably feel the Seelie magic radiating from Lancelot, but Lancelot himself can't sense a thing. Even the dog at his feet has better senses for magic than Lancelot does.

It's a shame she can't tell him anything, therefore.

Reynard bumps into him and Lancelot grabs out to steady him with alarming good reflexes, blinks at the man then down at the phone he's holding out.

"Oh! Thank you, good thing it didn't hit the ground. Are you all right?"

He squints questioningly at Reynard, even while Lily shies back a few steps. She's used the feeling of Lancelot's magic, but this one... is a little different.

[knowstheworld]

Childermass had grown up a pickpocket on the streets. He'd known what the other man was doing almost as soon as he'd done it, even if he had been good. Childermass could honestly say that he had barely felt a thing -- wouldn't almost say that he'd felt nothing if he hadn't known what to feel for in the first place. Too bad it's a trick that he's used more than a few times himself.

Well, almost used. He certainly hasn't ever given a man's wallet back once he's stolen it away. He raises his eyebrows, a muscle tensing in his jaw slightly, as if he'd honestly like to give the man a piece of his mind. But then he sees that it isn't his wallet that the man has stolen from within the pocket of his coat. It's his cards. And that puts an entirely different spin on things entirely.

"Forgive me, sir," Childermass growls out, in his usual, rough and drawling Yorkshire fashion. "But liberating valuables from where they'd been safely housed within my own pockets... I am not certain but that may be called thievery in some circles, is it not?"

[growsowngoats]

He had chosen his victim very poorly indeed, because Siobhan did not carry upon her person even the means to buy herself some new clothes, and it was quite evident that she could use some. Most of what she was wearing was a bit too big for her, gotten from thrift stores and lovingly repaired so she looked like a very cheerful little quilt of a person, all bright colours and smiles.

Her magic felt a bit like that too, warm and welcoming and bright, like the gentle glow of a fireplace on a chilly autumn day.

The item Reynard had gotten hold of was a donut wrapped in some napkins, a snack she was saving for later. She took it back from him with a look on her face that was more disapppointed than anything else.

"And you're not even a little bit sorry."

max briest » original » metahuman

[thephix]

4; fancy dress

The first thing that Amelia – no, Max - does when setting foot in London is head straight to a party. It’s not that she particularly wants to party, but she needs to learn who’s who in this city, and the best way to do that is somewhere alcohol is served. It makes people’s tongues looser, lessens their inhibitions, and if they’re drunk enough, it might even keep them from remembering too much about her, which is perfect.

The costume aspects helps with that, too, because though she’s a striking figure, dressed as Artemis, it makes her look quite different from how she’ll appear day-to-day. She could have come looking like someone else, of course, but she doesn’t want to be completely forgotten, she just doesn’t want people knowing all the things they’ll tell her.

It’s thinking ambitiously, but Max is nothing if not ambitious. It’s why she’s in London, after all.

Throughout the night, she dances and drinks and makes small talk, the alcohol seeming to affect her more as the night wears on, unless someone happens to catch her when she thinks no one’s looking, because then her eyes are perfectly sharp. It’s easy to fake being drunk, when she’s spent her whole life faking everything.

5; are you afraid of the dark

London isn’t like New York in so many ways, but there are some ways that it’s almost painfully similar. Crime is one of those things, and it’s something so ingrained into Max that she can’t help but seek it out, knowing that if nothing else, she can find a place to fit in until she’s ready to do more. And crime pays, which is something she needs. No one gets anywhere without money.

The problem with London is that she doesn’t know it like the back of her hand, she doesn’t have the connections she did in New York, so she has to make them all anew.

Starting at the bottom and working her way up seems like the best option for now, which is why she’s wandering the dark alleys at night, high heels clicking on the cobblestones like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Or maybe she’s just trying to make herself seem like an easy target.

It’s the latter, and she smiles to herself in the dark as she hears someone (or something) behind her.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” The amusement in her tone might just sell that confidence.

8; wildcard

Being new to London, Max spends much of her time exploring, frequenting bars, cafes and shops as she gets settled into a new life and a new routine. Her New York accent (upper class, her Italian-American accent hidden) easily marks her as someone Not From Around Here, but she doesn’t have the air of a tourist. She can often be found on the arm of a man who she’s decided is an asset, whether he be the head of a local gang, or some mid-level politician who’s lonely and needy and can be easily wrapped around her finger.

Eventually, there are moves to be made, but that will come after she’s built herself some power and influence.

5

[shenevermisses]

It's tempting. It's really, really tempting. She could probably mug someone, especially since she has a pistol hidden in her oversized jacket. Brits don't carry them, even their police. Pretty different than Colorado. But Clove can't bring herself to actually go through with it. She's not that hungry, not yet. So, instead, she stops just a few steps shy of where she started. The holster on her means that the gun doesn't show, especially not with the size of her jacket.

It's humiliating to say it, but she has to. She knows she does.

"Just wanted to know if you've got a couple of bucks. Even some change. Something to spare, y'know?"

It's almost nice to hear another American, at least.

Clove - Hunger Games - werewolf

[shenevermisses]

Are You Afraid of the Dark

There are a lot of things that go bump in the night, and Clove knows all about the dangers each and every one is capable of. Which is why she hates going anywhere at night. But she had to be out tonight, taking care of a few minor errands to prove she was reliable to the pack.

She had no keys to thread between her fingers, no mace to have at her fingertips. Her illegal firearm was at home, hidden in her suitcase.

Ultimately, the trick was walking like you owned the block. She knew that. But in a strange city, that was easier said than done. For every half-dozen steps she took, she looked around, doing her best to listen closely. Clove was, unfortunately, aware of how obviously nervous she was. That wouldn't help dissuade humans or supernaturals alike who might be looking for easy prey.


New Student

Redbright Institute was... terrifying. She was entirely surrounded -- staff and students -- by creatures she'd been taught to hate and kill. She was one of them now, yes, but that didn't change her upbringing. It was hard not to look at them as enemies and possible targets. Not to imagine how she'd kill each and every one. And how they might kill her.

Which is what makes lunch really hard. Because, well, most people by now have an established group.

When she sees an open seat, there's not much choice but to approach the table.

"Is anyone sitting there?"


Healthy Living

Joining a gym when you're legally too young to sign a contract and have no proof of being an emancipated minor is pretty difficult. So, Clove gets her exercise done in the neighborhood. Everyone knows her route by now, barring a few variations depending on the weather. Most of them know when to expect her, too, whether it's a week day or the weekend.

One of her stops is always the little grocer's shop right on the corner three blocks from her flat. The owner always has an apple and a bottle of water waiting for her at the counter, and she always has correct change.

"Excuse me." It's said as politely as it can be, though still with the certainty that she won't be challenged. Which is all the warning she gives before stepping in front of the person at the head of the line and taking the two items on the counter. In the same movement, she puts her money in their place and steps out of line. "Thanks."


Be Prepared

A full moon in a new place means preparations must be made. The other werewolves in her flat have helped her set up her closet. They offered her a place with them, but she refused. There's something still so shameful about transforming. She can't imagine doing it as a group. Still, the braces are in place. A collar of thick leather has been made, and supports have been rigged up.

All she needs now is the chain.

Which she's in a hardware store buying.

She has a good four yards of heavy gauge chain, which she hauls up onto the counter. "Just this," she tells the man at the register, who seems to be trying to figure out what she could need with that.


Wildcard!

(The "choose your own adventure" prompt.)

Be Prepared

[dredefulchilde]

"Are you quite sure that is going to be strong enough?" Joss gives the girl a disdainful little smirk and crosses his arms. He's standing behind his current adopter--well, bloodbag, really. Human minds are so easily controlled, especially when all they want in the world is a child to call their own. The poor old dear radiates an air of vague contentment, though her skin is pale and her eyes look bruised. It'll be time to move on very soon.

"It would be most unfortunate if a little wolf found her way outside tonight, don't you think?"

Cassandra of Troy - Mythology - Metahuman/Hunter

[nevertobebelieved]

Behind the Veil

This night will always make her skin crawl. She can feel how thin the veil is, and she hates it. Tonight, there will be deals struck. Those bargains could destroy the world of not only the one who made the negotiations but possibly others connected to it. That was her task, self-assigned as it was.

Armed with a Peacock's Eye, she can find high concentrations of Fae magic. It was imprecise, yes, but it is something. It gives her more of an idea of where to go than anything else she had in her possession.

"Hey." Someone was there. Who it is, she doesn't know. "You okay?"


Fancy Dress

It was the job of a rich man's wife to host lavish parties in his name.

That much, at least, had not changed over so many centuries.

And Cassandra was at home in that situation. Whether it was the palace of a king or the foyer of a millionaire's home, she could play the gracious hostess, flitting about and checking up on someone. When she had been truly young, they'd whispered that she was mad. Now, they whispered that she only married the old man for his money. How little they knew. She had more than enough money to support herself for a long time.

Still, she smiled sweetly as she excused herself from two women who were only going to whisper about her once her back was turned.

"I'm so sorry Kenneth isn't here to express his gratitute for your presence. He was called away on business unexpectedly."


Just Another Day

None of you even realize. I could start screaming it, and none of you would do anything.

The thought drifts bitterly through Cassandra's mind as she walks down the street with her earbuds secure and playing a mournful folk ballad about Camelot. Not quite her world, but she can still feel a connection to it. The days gone by that weren't ever quite what literature told them to be.

But she sees it coming.

The cab whose driver is just a little too tired, the girl who's boyfriend is breaking up with her via text as she crosses the road, and the truck driver more worried about her than the cab on his right.

It's the perfect storm, and she can't do hardly anything about it.

The girl walks into traffic as she types quickly. The truck driver swerves to miss her. The cab driver isn't aware. The girl is okay, but the truck slams into the cab, and both vehicles slide as glass shatters.

All Cassandra can do is lash her hand out and grab the upper arm of a person who was about to move. Just in time to let debris fly past them... instead of embedding itself into their head.


Wildcard

(Anything you want that you don't see? Give me a starter!)

Just Another Day

[youronlylaw]

James is doing what he usually does when he's standing still - checking his phone. He's distracted and too busy to even realize that he's just at the edge of the curb waiting for the light to change when -

It happens too quickly for him to even register what's happened - even with werewolf reflexes, at best his fingernails are replaced with sharp, stabbing claws in a delayed effort to move himself out of the way. He looks at the girl as if she's just slapped him - and then past her toward the mangled pieces of taxi that would have clipped his head clean off his shoulders.

He's understandably speechless.