Below are the most recent 25 friends' journal entries.

[ << Previous 25 ]

Sunday, September 7th, 2008
city_limits [ first_born_son ]	8:10p	Meeting Cute Jessica had wandered rather further from home today, she didn't know whether or not they were going to get her papers soon - she really hoped they did because she had started to feel bad every time she walked out of the hotel now, knowing that Oliver had asked her not to. Guilt was a funny thing. She wasn't very used to it, really. She was out now though and it was nice to feel the sunlight on her face. She enjoyed being out during the day, she didn't get to do it often. Before, she'd spent the days sleeping and resting to protect the camps at night. And even here, she hadn't gone out that much. It wasn't really daytime anymore, it was early evening and the sun had started setting. She'd watched it set down over the water and was just walking, finding her way back, steady steps slowly leading her home. She stopped off at a hotdog stand, taking out a five dollar bill from her pocket to buy herself one, and a drink. She didn't get change, just walked off when she was given the goods. She was mostly finished with the hotdog and had finished her soda as she turned down an alley she knew was a shortcut to get her back to the Fairmont. She was just in the mouth of it when someone walked into her, staying close and muttering "Give me your purse," and crowding her almost against the wall. She thought she heard the sound of something being pulled, maybe caught the glint of a knife. Whatever it was, she felt threatened. That was enough. ( A Chance Encounter ) As Connor walked into the bike, Jessica actually laughed softly. It broke the sort of tension in the air, at least on her side. Her smile became wider, eyes lighting up with the expression, as foreign as it was to her face. "Alright," she said softly, wetting her lower lip. "I'll listen for the call." Something, excitement, maybe, shot through her at that, knowing that she would have someone calling the apartment looking for her. Like she wasn't as invisible here as she felt she was. "I hope you get back to your hotel safely," Jessica offered with another smile, lifting one hand to wave. "You too, thanks for the ride." She took a couple of steps backwards, nearly stumbling but not, kind of unable to stop watching Connor. "Speak to you soon, I hope." "Yeah. Yeah." He was saying it to himself, his voice probably too low to be overheard, and he finally turned the Honda around and headed out of the parking lot. He glanced at the palm Jessica had written her suite number on, made a note to write it down on the first thing he could find once he was back in his own room. Still breathing. Current Mood: pleased (Comment on this)
city_limits [ averyisgone ]	5:38p	Pour Me a Drink Sometimes, Avery could be too nice. He had agreed to pick up someone else's shift because they were feeling under the weather. It wasn't too big of a deal, he would be working eight hours tonight instead of his usual part-time four. It was just that now, he'd be racing against the sunrise to get home. He'd done it before, but not in awhile. Honestly, the prospect made him a bit nervous. Now, more than ever, he was glad for his returned vehicle. Even if it cost him two dollars in quarters to park it in a metered spot while he was at the cafe. The person Avery was filling in for usually took care of the alcoholic drinks. The vampire's manager had given him permission to fill this particular role. It was a bit disconcerting, as people asked for cocktails that he'd never even heard of. After asking one of his co-workers for a translation, he did his best to concoct the drinks. The customers seemed happy, but he didn't realize it was because he was accidentally going very heavy-handed on the booze. Oliver was leaned on one elbow, trying to pretend he couldn't hear the chattering of the group of college-aged girls behind him. They'd piled into the booth they occupied about fifteen minutes after he arrived, and their voices seemed to be growing exponentially louder the longer he sat there. They'd probably gotten started drinking at around dusk. Savages. Not that he was any better, but at least he'd waited until it was full dark. The spellcaster lit a cigarette, slouched back in his seat. He'd been here a couple of times before, and he didn't think he'd seen the shaggy-haired kid who was doing the pouring before. When you had a relationship with alcohol like the one Oliver had, bartenders' faces became very familiar indeed. "So then, like, he says, "Well, shit, Crystal, you never asked me if I had a girlfriend," one of the airheads behind him said, and all of her equally vacuous friends made sympathetic noises about her bad taste in men. Oliver rolled his eyes, took his sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on as if that would assist in blocking out the din. Maybe if he could pretend to be blind, he could also pretend to be deaf. He looked down into his glass through the dark lenses, discovered it was empty. He pulled himself to his feet, then moved over to the bar, where he rapped the knuckle of his index finger on the wooden surface. "I'm sorry, I don't remember your name," he said to the young server. The empty scotch glass was held up. "Can I get another of these?" Avery had been eyeing the group of girls, not because they appealed to him, but because they kind of hurt his overly-sensitive ears. He was going to ask them, politely, to take it down a notch. When he was about to step out from behind the bar, the dark-haired man had approached with his empty glass. "Oh, um, sure," he replied. Avery picked up the bottle that the man had indicated before, and refilled his glass with Johnnie Walker. ( Scotch and Conversation ) (Comment on this)
Saturday, September 6th, 2008
city_limits [ jill_at_law ]	6:12p	Anymore “Well … took you long enough.” Jill stopped in her tracks the minute she stepped into the interrogation room. The pale man sitting in the metal chair, grinning that toothless grin with a face of about a week’s worth of stubble. The hideous comb-over was all too familiar to the agent, and she folded her arms over her chest in a defensive posture. “Mr. Coker,” she said with venom in her tone. Of course Dylan Coker was the guy they’d been after for the past month, why hadn’t Jill seen that? She knew how this man operated, and all the evidence the FBI had on him before his capture was completely consistent with his past dealings. Jill should’ve known; she used to be his lawyer. ( Intimidating ) “I’m fine,” Jill said with a single nod. Seeing Dylan again had thrown the agent for a loop, but she pushed through the awkwardness of interrogating one of her former clients. He’d tried to intimidate her and it didn’t work; if anything, Jill thought she intimidated him. Even if she had to lie to do it. (Comment on this)
city_limits [ doingmything ]	9:12p	Just Hanging Out "You need to get out." A piece of sound advice (or was it an order?) sent by text message. Rhiannon didn't need to know the details of her friend's personal life to figure it out. Kris always needed to get out. Two hours later, she drove her 80s-model Nissan up to the curb outside a modest house and hit the horn. Two short, quick bursts of impatient sound, letting the other Slayer know she was ready and wasn't going to take a rain check. While she waited, Rhiannon skipped through songs on an old mp3 player. It was dark outside, and the tiny blue screen provided the only illumination, except for her dashboard and a streetlamp mostly blocked by tree leaves. A slightly outdated trip-hop track crackled through the speakers, which, like most of her car, were on their last leg. Truthfully, Rhiannon needed a night out, too. And alcohol. The bank account wasn't looking too good, but a couple more drinks weren't going to make or break her, though the lack of same might permanently screw her sanity. Hotels were not her bag. Apparently neither were they the cat's. That afternoon, while Rhiannon was out looking at overpriced slums for rent, Mary Sue had shredded one end of the drapes in a fit of boredom. She didn't want to think about how much cash that would set her back. She heard a sound on the porch and looked up. Kris had received the text message and knew Rhiannon wouldn't take no for an answer and it was kind of nice to have somebody in the city she could hang out with. She made sure she didn't have anywhere else to be and sent a quick text back to Hayden: "I'll see you there - Kris" before she took a shower and threw on some clean clothes. Nothing fancy, just something comfortable. She rummaged out her wallet glad for the fact she was the owner of a successful business venture or money might have been a problem. It had been pretty tough in the beginning, back when nobody knew who she was and nobody trusted her. These days it was a lot easier because her school provided results and people left it feeling more capable of looking after themselves. Her head turned at the sound of the impatient horn and her lips tugged into a small smirk. "Keys," she muttered to herself. "I need keys." Kris threw on a jacket then quickly searched the nearby table until her fingers closed around the keys. "Gotcha." Kris rubbed Eddy's ears and then let herself out, making sure to turn her lights out except for the one nearest the porch. It helped to create an illusion. "Hey," she called out as she caught Rhiannon's eye. Kris headed down the stairs and slid into the passenger side of the car. ( Bad Combination ) ( High- (or maybe low-) lights ) ( Broken Compass ) Current Mood: relaxed (Comment on this)
city_limits [ first_born_son ]	4:00p	Gainfully Employed It was a wet, cold and stereotypically windy day in the city of Chicago and it was one Kris had braced herself for, but nothing could have prepared her for the puddle that had taken her completely unaware. Stupid drivers and their total lack of regard for pedestrians. Kris hadn't exactly kept her feelings to herself given the amount of viteral she had flung at the driver's car as he had sped off. Asshole. Currently she was struggling with the lock on the front door of her studio, groaning in frustration as she caught the edge of her hand and sure enough there was a cut and blood. "This is not my day," she muttered under her breath. Kris finally got into the studio and lifted her open skin to her mouth, sucking away the blood and rolling her eyes at the resulting sting. Hopefully the day would improve or she was totally going home and crawling under her bedcovers. Not that she could do that, really. She was supposed to be meeting Connor today. Kris shook away the tingles in her hand and scowled as she pushed her drenched hair off her face, peeling long strands of black away from her temple and lips. "This is ridiculous." Clearly she needed a haircut. Connor squinted into the rain as he rounded the last corner on the bike, just missing a puddle the size of a lake as he finally reached Kris' studio. His rotten luck, he'd gotten caught in it just as it started. He pulled the helmet off and wiped his face as cold droplets trickled down the sides of his neck and then under the collar of his shirt. Ick. He thumped up the stairs to the door to huddle underneath the narrow eave as he tried to wring his shirt out a little, then said to hell with it. Okay, so he looked like a drowned rat, big deal. Not that tracking water all over his potential employer's floor was the best way to start an interview, but he couldn't help it. Stupid rain. ( Coming in Out of the Rain ) Upstairs, Connor found a plastic bin with some clothes in it, and after some rummaging he discovered a dry shirt, which he put on after peeling the wet one away from his chest and back to drop on a wooden bench. Well, that was a little better, anyway. He hoped he didn't embarrass himself at this. He wanted to be an asset, someone who could make a difference in whatever small way he could. But he was making the effort, that was what mattered. As long as he didn't fall flat on his ass, he'd be okay. (Comment on this)
city_limits [ izzy_shaw ]	12:23p	Speed Healing Though she had more energy than before, Faith was still in rough shape following her fight with Grace. That her back was no longer bleeding and the pain in her left arm lessened was a testament to Hayden's first aid skills. He knew what he was doing when he placed the splint; the Slayer figured he probably had plenty of practice from his days with Kris. But Faith didn't want to think about that sort of thing right now, choosing instead to focus on the door in front of her. Faith felt bad for calling Izzy so late, but the witch was still awake. The Slayer did feel somewhat selfish for standing at a witch's front door with the primary intent of seeing if Izzy could heal her wounds. If not fully, then perhaps Faith could have the process sped up a bit. Not that it took that long for the Slayer to heal, but it wasn't like Faith made a habit of suffering such drastic injuries. Then again, most vampires weren't Grace. Faith snarled to herself before rapping her knuckles against the door. Maybe she'd ask Izzy to do another spell, something that would make the blood Grace drank taste like dog shit or something. Izzy had let Michaela know that the Slayer was on her way over just before the former detective went to bed. The tech-witch had arrived home from work at the bar just a half-hour before Faith called, and was munching on a sandwich while flipping through the spell books she'd purchased in this dimension a few weeks earlier. There had to be a healing spell in these antiquated relics someplace. Like the banishing spell she'd cast the other day, the tech-witch honestly hadn't looked at healing magic since college. She'd been focusing much of her energy and spare time off work on creating the portals that had ended up sticking her in this dimension and little else. Hopefully there would be something in here to help Faith out. ( walking wounded ) Izzy made a mental note to brush up on protection spells, any vamp that could do this much damage to a Slayer and walk away to 'live' another night was one she didn't want to encounter without being prepared. Hopefully she never would cross paths with this Grace, but one couldn't be too careful. She'd put protection wards on Michaela's home and Logan's apartment as well to help protect those in this dimension she'd come to care about. "I'm glad I was able to help, at least," Izzy gestured toward Faith's arm, "it's better to have Slayers with both arms in good workin' order." "No argument there," Faith said with a sideways grin, taking her time. The adhesive keeping the bandage on her back made movement difficult, and given how much time had passed since she got the wound, that was really the main sensation. There was still pain, but between Hayden's first aid and Izzy's magick, it was much less than before. Faith would have to test her arm later to see if it was fully healed or just partially. Even if it was partially, Faith was that much closer to being completely healed again. Which meant she was that much closer to slaying again -- and putting a stake through that ... thing's heart. Assuming wood could puncture a rock. "Call me if you need a favor," she added. "I owe you." (Comment on this)
city_limits [ forbes_md ]	2:27a	Tears for the Fallen? Kathleen pressed a button on her keyless remote locking the doors of her hybrid Mercury Mariner that she had parked in the crowded lot. She was running late for the memorial service for the fallen fire fighter that had passed away a few days ago. She did not have to come to the service but it was on her day off and she thought it would be appropriate to show her respects to the firefighter’s family on behalf of the Army Medical Department at St. Joseph Hospital. The side-walk leading to the church where the memorial was being held was full of other service people in dress uniform from the Chicago Fire Department and other departments from other communities, Police, and other agencies. She did not look out of place in her dress blue uniform. About a block away from the Church her iPhone rang in her black purse. By the ringtone she knew Paul was calling. Days had passed since she had intended to break up with him, but she could never bring herself to do it. In the mean time, Paul had accepted the job offer from the engineering firm in Elgin, a town outside of Chicago. When he had told her that he had accepted the offer, she was honestly happy about the news and realized that she might have been hasty in her decision to break up. It had been a relief to her that she cowardly postponed telling him. It would have been too painful and difficult to deal with  had she done so. Perhaps when he moved to Chicago, they could have a fresh start together. ( Unexpected news ) (Comment on this)
city_limits [ out_of_body ]	1:59a	Avery's Secret Francess had spent the long afternoon with her sister Beatrice, talking about the 'oomph' factor. According to Bea, she had entered a zone of crucial importance in her fledgling romance with Avery. They had gone on several outings which could be construed as either friendly or date-ish, depending upon perspective. The sharing of several kisses was a checkmark in the promising column, but things could just as easily revert to friendship at this point, Bea advised, if Fran wasn't prepared to up the 'oomph' factor and make herself impossible to resist. Francess had listened to all of this from her seat on the closed toilet lid, fiddling with an old scrunchie and looking worried. Irresistable? She could barely even work up the nerve to wear a skirt. While her sister curled her eyelashes at the mirror and talked about body language and hand placement and sensuality and not seeming too available, Fran absorbed as much as she could, but mostly she wondered how they could've come from the same planet, much less the same womb. Before she left Bea's house, she had been talked into using a box of vampy hair-dye, which was nearly black and would give her mother a coronary. Freshly dyed, she had turned to make-up, so she wouldn't look washed-out. Francess stabbed herself in the eyeball four or five times with the mascara wand. Lipstick was easier, if she could stop chewing her lip and getting it on her teeth. At last she was deemed 'presentable' and allowed to leave the compound. After a short ride on the el, Francess exited at the stop nearest the Pick-Me-Up cafe, where Avery worked. He had called the day prior and asked her to stop by. Fran had been there once as a pre-teen, and remembered the eatery as having a brightly-colored storefront, purple tables, and neons. She also remembered that customers could draw little pictures and add them to a collection of public art. Her older brother Gil had been college-aged at the time, and thought himself exceptionally clever for camouflaging an image of a penis in his sketch of the Sears tower. She pulled open the door and looked around, feeling a bit like a kid searching the cafeteria for a friendly face. Avery was nervous. He had served decaf when he was supposed to serve regular, given a hamburger to a vegetarian and almost let someone walk out with twenty dollars of change that wasn't owed to them. He had worn clothes from his 'nice' section of the closet and as a result, gotten syrup splattered on his favorite blue sweater. Now he was on his break, and Francess would be arriving shortly. He had been practicing in the bathroom what he would say to her, but without the aid of a mirror it didn't have the same effect. The bell over the door jingled and he glanced at the doorway. It was now or never. He walked over to where he could see her, and waved. "Hey," he said softly, then gestured to an empty table for two near the window. "I'm glad you can make it." Then he noticed her hair. "You tinted it." It was the phrase his mother had used whenever she colored her hair. "It looks good on you." Her hair could be green and he would like it. "Do you want coffee or hot chocolate or anything?" "Thanks. Umm..." Francess pulled on her shirt sleeve and debated her choices. She would most certainly have preferred hot chocolate, but she thought coffee was more cosmopolitan. Oomph factor... "I'll have a coffee. Black." There, the mature choice. In actuality, Francess had never drank a strong, black coffee in her life, but her dad seemed like it, so it couldn't be too bad. Perhaps it was an acquired taste, and if that was the case, she had better getting cracking. She went to the table and stood near it. "You look nice, too," she threw in, remembering that men were supposed to like having their egos stroked, among other embarrassing things. "I like your sweater." Francess thought men should wear those more often, so long as they weren't Cosby sweaters, or the kind with reindeer stitched on them. ( A Really Scary Sentence ) ( Just a Normal Guy ) (Comment on this)
Friday, September 5th, 2008
city_limits [ fireman_pat ]	10:28p	Alias Cian hadn't been able to set foot inside the church, no matter how much of a pull he felt to do so. Especially not that day. August 15. Standing in front of the building had caused all sorts of emotions to well up, intensified he knew by his body and what it had just been through, yet again. For five years. What is had also done was awaken a sense of homesickness that Cian couldn't even identify at first. It had been a month since he and Shane had flown across the Atlantic seeking some answers and so far their failure had been frustrating beyond belief. The only relief had been that Oonagh, while still not awake, seemed to be safe. They had been worried he had infected her, passed on the virus that caused the were to be released, but there had been nothing during the moon cycle. For a moment Cian had looked up at the church and wondered if at last someone, or something, had stepped in and protected someone he cared about. "'Bout bloody time!" he'd muttered to himself as he'd shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked away from the building, crossing the street and making his way toward the next block. His shoulders shrugged and he rolled them beneath his jacket, worn despite the warmth of the day. For at least a day after the moon's control on him he'd always felt the cold more, and a little paranoia, the jacket giving him at least some sense of protection. Today though he didn't need it, the warm weather again making a short sleeve shirt and shorts the average wear. Shane had gone to the library, his love of books matching his love of the computers he usually used, and libraries his favourite haunts. Cian had told him he'd come back and meet him there, his regular walk back to the woman's apartment so much a part of the routine now there was almost a comfort in it's familiarity, despite the lack of anything new. As he walked he thought back over the month, the size of the city and how different it was to the small villages he'd been raised and spent his life in, and decided he'd much rather his home than this completely impersonal, uncaring city of people who were so busy in their own tiny worlds they couldn't even give a smile or nod when walking the street. There were the exceptions, he admitted to himself, that made the rule, but even the few people who had given some time he'd probably never see again in a place this size. Except of course the man who'd hailed from Cian's own County. Pat. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the phone, figuring out where Shane had stored the number Cian had given him after the festival, the memory of it having been pushed aside by the shifting of hotels and unavoidable self-imposed seclusion. They hadn't heard a word from the man they'd found in the woman's apartment, putting it down to him probably either forgetting, not really meaning it in the first place, or not finding anything out at all. And he couldn't imagine things would be any different for Pat. He pushed the green button and lifted the phone to his ear, again being a little puzzled by the unfamiliar ringing tone, but slowly getting used to it. ( Any news? ) "Uh," Cian paused, trying to remember what Shane had told him he was using over here. Something to do with Geemail or sumin', but he couldn't remember. "Can I get y' t' text me yours and I'll give it t' Shane to contact you. I can't remember what he said he's using over here. Y've got this number, right?" "I do." Pat scribbled the number on his display onto a notepad. "I'll forward it as soon as we're done. Hope you find answers to your questions Cian." "Thanks, so do I," Cian replied, mouth twisting wryly. "And thanks again, for the information. Have a good evening." "Take care." Pat ended the connection and then sent a text message with his e-mail address. He hoped that the information on the aliases would do some good, it would be a nice change of pace compared to the events of the past few days. (Comment on this)
city_limits [ faith_5_by_5 ]	9:45p	A Bazooka or Something [Takes place immediately after "Little Miss Girly Girl."] This was so not what Faith needed right now. Normally, being cornered in the dark by a vampire wasn't something that bothered the Slayer; after all, it was sort of her sacred duty to kill these things. But fresh off her fight with Grace, Faith was hardly in any condition to fight the undead. Her broken left arm was an inconvenience at best, while the blow to her head certainly didn't help matters, nor did she feel particularly good about the gash on the small of her back. But here Faith was, cornered in an alley by a bloodsucker who happened upon her as she went back to her apartment a few blocks from Lincoln Park. She'd clocked him a few times with her good hand, but she couldn't reach her stake in time; every time she tried, the vampire punched her in the face. The Slayer's nose was bleeding, likely broken, and she really didn't like how things were looking as her back pressed against the damp brick wall. A good swift roundhouse kick launched the vampire into a nearby dumpster, though, giving Faith a little bit of maneuvering room. But as her eyes scanned the area around her, she couldn't find any wood to use as a weapon. She reached again for her stake -- awkward, with her right hand trying to reach her left back pocket, and just as she grabbed the stake, the vampire tackled her again. Faith grunted as she hit the ground face-first, her stake rolling off a good 10 feet away. "Shit!" The renovation project on the south side of the Lakeview neighborhood was slow-going. By the first of October, thirty condominiums were to be flipped and put on the market. Whether anyone would want to buy that close to Lincoln Park was an issue for another day. Right now there was a deadline, and the constractor had already let the project go past deadline once, so the construction crew stayed after dark, working under industrial-strength lightbulbs. When the crew leader called it quits, Hayden left the site and walked out to his pickup, which was parked in a gravel lot. He unloaded his tool belt and hard hat on the seat and climbed into the cab to take off his gloves. Hayden had the key in the ignition and was about to turn it when he heard a loud, hollow thump. The researcher frowned. He cranked down the window and looked at the two other vehicles parked in the lot, a sedan and a truck. What he heard could've been a door slamming shut, but nobody was out there. For a minute all he heard was a streetlight buzzing, but then he heard a woman's shout. "Shit," he said, not knowing he had just echoed Faith's sentiment. Hayden reached into his glove compartment and dug under old registrations, an owner's manual, and an ice scraper. At the bottom there was a stake, the only weapon he kept in there. It hadn't been used in over a year. He left the box hanging open, its contents spilling on the floorboard, and got out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. He took off at a jog. The noise had come from around the corner. Half the buildings on that block were empty, having been abandoned after the disaster the year prior. After the looting was over, the squatters moved in. More than once, Hayden's crew had gotten to the site in the morning and found evidence that homeless people were using the building for shelter at night. Maybe it was just a couple of humans being robbed. Or maybe it was a vampire tackling a girl face-down on the pavement. "Hey!" ( Paging Dr. Maragos ) She could've been a Scooby, but for a variety of reasons Faith only now had the maturity to recognize, she squandered that chance. Chicago would not be a repeat of Sunnydale. "Don't be a stranger," she called out, placing the cell phone to her ear. She'd give Izzy a call; remembering she was a witch of sorts, the Slayer wondered if maybe she could help with the healing. Probably nothing major, but Faith felt like she needed some help. Not to mention, it'd be nice to get to know another local better. (Comment on this)
city_limits [ averyisgone ]	7:15p	Take a Ride Clemence grabbed her cell phone off of her nightstand and flopped down on the sofabed, a grin on her face. She had Purity on speed dial number one. She keyed in the pound sign and 1, then held the phone up to her ear while it rang. This was definitely the zenith of her day, hearing the witch's voice. Purity's hand froze on her door, the subtle tones of 'The Devils Trill' floating to her ears. For a split second she considered just going, her keys jangling in her hand. "Fuck it." The door was left open as the witch dived back inside, running to her room to grab her cell out of her pants pocket on her bedroom floor. The phone was slid open, the witch not looking at who was calling as she said, "Hello?" With the cell pressed to her ear, she walked back to the door, closing it and locking it before slipping the keys into her back pocket. The witch headed towards the stairs. It wasn't too terribly late... She wanted a few beers and a stroll before curling up with her Book of Shadows. It was long overdue for an entry. The blonde's smile widened as her call was answered. "Hey, Purity." She heard the faint sound of jangling keys. "I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?" Clemence sat with her legs crossed underneath her, pulling a throw pillow into her lap. Purity was momentarily caught off guard hearing the blonde's voice. It caused an odd fluttering in the pit of her stomach that she'd never experienced before, and wasn't quite sure how to feel about it. "Hey... What?" The witch's attention was pulled back just as she pushed out into the night air. Choosing to walk through alleyways instead of streets so she could hear the girl on her cell better. "No, I was just going for a walk. What's up?" She turned, sauntering down the first darkened alley. Clemence leaned back against the sofa, one hand playing with her hair idly. "Nothing, really, I just wanted to hear your voice," she replied honestly. She leaned over and switched on a lamp. She had been sitting in mostly darkness since arriving home from work. "Are you having a good night?" Purity found herself tilting her head, listening closely as if trying to picture Clemence in her mind, to catch any movement. In all honesty, Purity hated talking on the phone, yet... She realised with a bit of a start, that she didn't feel the urge to rush off of the line with the girl. What was that all about? "Oh, alright." There was a low chuckle, Purity's breath leaving like a soft sigh into the night breeze. "Wouldn't matter either way, you called, it automatically makes it a good night for me." ( Hop In ) (Comment on this)
city_limits [ sinister_darian ]	11:18a	Pole Dancer The club was coming together and Bethany was pleased with its progress, even if the dressing rooms weren't finished. They would be soon and that was all that mattered. She'd just finished interviewing bartenders, looking for the right sort of people who could handle the pressure of the crowds she was expecting and some had excelled whilst others had failed miserably. Bethany had already made calls and offered positions along with shift rotations and the rules of conduct so there would be no misunderstandings, she hated those. Especially in business. Currently she was stretching her arms above her head before taking a few steps closer to one of the tables she'd had delivered, reaching out to trace her fingers across its smooth surface. The guy she'd gone to had assured her that it would be perfect for what she needed even if his eyes had widened when she had told him what she needed the tables for. Another talented craftsman had fitted the tables with poles, for the more private and personal dances. Bethany looked around herself before she hopped up onto the table and walked the circular shape, turning on her heels to judge if there was anything to hold the girls to the table itself. The surface might have been shiny but it seemed easy enough to walk on and move on, she didn't think the girls would have much of a problem. She pressed her weight down on the table, making sure it was stable and solid enough. The last thing she wanted was for the tables to give under the girls movements, that was one headache she could do without. She reached up and loosened her hair, clasping the pole in one hand and turning around it slowly. The movement was fluid and it didn't take very much for Bethany's weight to carry around it in a shapely curve, long legs hugging the solid metal. She smirked ever so slightly and rose to her feet very slowly, pleased with how the pole had handled her. Maybe there was hope for the girls? "Couple more days and we'll be open for business," she remarked with a small satisfied smile. The door on the far side of the venue opened, allowing daylight to slice across the tabletops and shine on the metallic poles. It seemed as if the designer had intended for such a sleek, cool ambience to the place. All surfaces were polished to reflect the images of dancers' skin, or the dollars outstretched in wanting hands. The poles were a brilliant silver, the floor dark and slick, the stage spare. It was sin-sophisticate. The door closed on a soft click and lock. Darian roamed around the room in his suit and tie, past the bars and round tables, simply taking in his surroundings without speaking to her. She had done a fine job, and he expected no less from her. Bethany had the high taste to envision a place like this, and the financial sway to pull it off. Suddenly fixated, he cut through the center of the room to the table where Bethany stood. He was caught up, fascinated by Bethany's high-heeled foot, or more specifically, the spot where her shoe met the table in a smudge-free reflection. The demon rubbed his chin. That reflection of her foot carried straight up her leg and beyond. "Nice craftsmanship," he said. Darian looked up and smiled. Bethany couldn't help but turn at the sudden introduction of light into the otherwise dim interior and once her eyes had adjusted her lips tugged into a soft smile as she couldn't help but recognise those very familiar shoulders. "It helps when you pay for the best," she assured him with a nod of her head. She reached out and clasped the pole in her elegant hand and turned on the point of her heel very slowly. "Here's hoping everybody else shares your views." Bethany's spin eventually slowed and her head tipped, dark eyes regarding Darian through long strands of gold. She didn't have nerves persay but this was a new business venture and those were always worrying, especially in new cities. Bethany slid down the pole and crawled along the surface of the table, hooking her hand in Darian's tie to drop a lingering kiss on his lips. "The sign should be arriving in a couple of hours." The elegant arc of her body was exquisite. He couldn't take his eyes off her, not when she circled, not when she got on her knees and crawled to him, and not during the kiss. She tasted like an afternoon cocktail. Vodka and the salt of an olive. Perhaps she'd been trying out the product in advance. "The sign excusing you of all legal liability for the heart failure you might cause?" ( Dance For Me? ) ( Giving in to Temptation (Adult Content: Sexuality) ) (Comment on this)
Thursday, September 4th, 2008
city_limits [ izzy_shaw ]	8:49p	Idiots and Jet Skis It was a scorcher of a day, a typical Midwestern late summer day of high temperature and high humidity making it almost unbearable to spend any time indoors without air conditioning or out in the sun without cover. Izzy had decided as soon as she'd seen the forecast that morning what she'd be doing in the few hours in between the end of one job and the start of her second: hitting the beach to work on her tan a bit and enjoy the cool waters of Lake Michigan. She still had to work later that evening, but for a few hours she could enjoy what little bit of summer weather was left in this part of the country. Her bikini already on underneath her tanktop and wraparound skirt, Izzy carried a tote bag over one shoulder packed with the essentials for this trip: suntan lotion, beach towel and work clothes. Cool surf and warm sand were calling her name, and she intended to oblige them as she stepped off the train and started down the steps to the street below. Chicago had moved quickly to replicate the massive beach that had graced part of the lakeshore along Lincoln Park, trying to do what it could to minimize the disruption caused by the Zone, and she had to admit they'd done a good job of it. The tech-witch wished Logan could have joined her, and the thought of her boyfriend brought a smile to her face. The night before had been a special time for both of them, and she was glad they'd taken that step together. Unfortunately he was busy today and couldn't join her at the beach. His loss. She reached the bottom of the stairs and started down the walkway toward the beach. Oliver was never going to be the kind of person who sought out crowds deliberately, but some days he just had to have a little more space beyond that of his hotel room. Today was one of those days. He'd gotten a letter from his grandmother, and the news was troubling enough that he'd taken the train to the beach so he could read and process it on his own. He'd known Amelia was getting up there in years and that her health was not the best, but apparently she'd taken a turn for the worse in recent months. He should make the time to visit her soon, before it was too late. Part of him was already starting to grieve his loss. The spellcaster was standing calf-deep in the cool water, his socks and shoes on the sand behind him. The day was hot, almost Nevada-hot, and he'd unbuttoned his shirt to leave it hanging open, exposing his pale chest and the razor scars that laddered the expanse of flesh under the fabric. He'd gotten stares when he walked up to the vending machines, which would have bothered him if he cared, and half of him was tempted to ditch the garment altogether to let them see the burns on his arms too. Fucking gawkers. He puffed on the cigarette in his mouth, folded up the light blue pages of the letter and tucked them into his back pocket. He would call the care facility and see if anyone would tell him anything. Amelia had been the only one who'd really cared for him as a child, and he would not neglect her if it might be near the end. Oliver looked across the large expanse of water, as far as his eyes could see. He would do what he had to, the way he always did. ( something in the air ) Oliver took the card and studied it briefly before slipping it into his shirt pocket. Maybe he'd even give her a call. It had been a long time since he'd spoken to anyone who was close to his level of magical skill. "You might hear from me, who knows?" He executed a strange little half-bow in her direction, then went to collect his shoes. He wanted to get out of these wet pants before too long, they were already starting to chafe. It hadn't been a bad day at the beach. He hoped he never saw another jet skier, though. (Comment on this)
city_limits [ jill_at_law ]	2:08p	Napoleon Dynamite of the Undead Jill couldn’t stop laughing. It was a not-so-classic case of mistaken identity; Jill had just left her office, walking to her car with the moon hanging high in the Chicago night sky. She never heard the vampire sneak up on her, and it wasn’t until she found herself with her back against the hood of her Malibu that the agent realized one of the undead was looking to eat her. Jill was scared, just not horribly terrified. She’d been around vampires long enough that they didn’t really shock her anymore – well, most of the time. This one did, though. Having pinned Jill’s arms and legs so she couldn’t do any more than squirm beneath the creature, the vampire leaned in for his first bite. But the vampire stopped suddenly, its feral eyes staring just below Jill’s chin. Which was when she remembered: Her cross. Though normally hidden beneath her shirt, Jill wore a blouse to work that exposed that part of her upper chest. The vampire stared at it, slowly loosening his grip on her arms. “No,” it growled, dropping its feet back onto the pavement. “Slayer!” ( Checking In On ) Jill then flopped herself into the seat of her car, shoving the key in the ignition and cranking the motor. They’d been after this guy for months; Jill couldn’t wait to interrogate him. For all the dangers in the world – particularly the weird ones – Jill had a special bit of venom reserved for drug dealers. Probably because her father wound up being one. At least this one didn’t have a badge. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 3rd, 2008
city_limits [ first_born_son ]	3:38p	Communications ( Voicemail for Rhiannon ) ( Voicemail for Kris ) Current Mood: busy (1 Comment |Comment on this)
city_limits [ cougar_cian ]	6:39p	Anniversaries The three nights had been relatively uneventful, despite the antics of a drunk mistaking Cian’s room for his own. He’d had the right number of door, just the wrong floor, and the sounds of an angry snarling behind the door hadn’t helped Shane convince him he should try the next floor up. “Fookin’ idiot,” Shane had muttered the next morning when he went in to inspect the damage. Cian was in the bathroom and came out dressed to head out for a run, his eyes still cautious and with tiny flecks of gold in the green, something Shane noted but didn’t comment on. “What?” Cian asked, surveying the damaged mattress and blanket. His lips thinned and eyes narrowed as he looked at Shane. “What happened?” Shane told him briefly. “Fookin’ idiot wouldn’t leave once you’d sounded, just backed ‘imself up against wall and kept sayin’ there was summin’ wrong wi’ the room. Finally his missus came along and dragged ‘im away.” He walked over to inspect the bed and door, relieved to see the only damage was repairable, or replaceable. Standing up again he looked at Cian, the tiredness visible in the younger man’s face. “Reckon you can go without me?” he asked, knowing Cian wasn’t too keen on the idea either during the moon’s cycle, or the first day after, but Shane too tired to even walk to the waterfront from this new hotel, given its distance away. ( The price of being cheaper. ) (Comment on this)
city_limits [ cougar_cian ]	4:38p	Unwanted guest Sounds… Stumbles, approaching. Ears flick, turn, focus. Black slits widen as paws silently hit the floor, muscles tense but remain fluid as fur ripples over them in the movement. Knocking… Shoulders hunch, body slinks and eyes narrow as teeth are bared in a silent hiss. More knocking… Tail tip flicks, side to side, while the rest of the figure remains stock still, the only other sign of life a low growl that echoes in the chest. Shouted words, more knocking, louder, and belligerent questions followed by pathetic pleas… Belly lowered till fur is brushing the floor but all weight distributed so immediate action is less than a heart beat from happening. Glittering gold has replaced the earlier soft glimmer of faint green as eyes remain fixed on the source of the sounds, the door. Spine runs the divide between poised shoulders and haunches held in anticipation of immediate action. Another growl and half snarled hiss as teeth bare, whiskers flattened along with ears, but only for a moment. Again a moment of silence as the verbal combatants listen, one trying to fight the fear borne of the unknown, the other struggling to explain away the unknown as being born of the fear. And a third voice, ears flicking back and forth to assess and assimilate the new addition to the aural cacophony. Silence again, interspersed by electronic sounds and voice, familiar and close. An ear swivels and returns, eyes never blinking, or moving, remaining fixed on the door. Another growl, this time softer, throatier, not carrying as far, nor lifting higher than the ambient white noise. The voices outside become thinner, two moving away, the other remaining silent, but the owner of it still close. Eyelids slowly lower, body now settling down as muscles relax and pupils retract. The tail tip twitches and lays flat along the floor as lungs expand and release more tension through a slow sigh… (Comment on this)
city_limits [ cougar_cian ]	4:26p	That time of the 'month'? Munch, munch, munch... The festival was no more and a girl with long, red hair was slowly walking along from the nearest fast food vendor. Although to reveal her wings would be to court social controversy, Sonya was in a lazy sort of mood and, besides, as much of a barrier as her loose understanding of English was, to say the least, displaying her demonic heritage at least went some way to explaining to food suppliers why she should want to buy such a massive amount, all in one go. The actual meat was what her appetite might desired, but she was perfectly happy to consume the bread and such, as a filler. The half-demoness' metabolism was high and it was this which led to her ripcord-like burning through of so many calories. So, with those leathery, draconian wings out for all to see, Sonya wandered slowly along the sidewalk. Mindful, of course, to dump her use tissues and such, into the nearest bin, but leisurely devouring her way though enough to feed several families, plus their pets. It was this very care-free mood which led to her turning a corner and, with more French fries jammed in her mouth than any girl of such an enviously slender figure had any right to consume, colliding full-on with someone heading in exactly the opposite direction. The combined kinetic energy was enough to land the Russian flat on her rear, with a muffled little, "Oof!" Her stuffed mouth and surprised expression combining to make a somewhat comical look, as she glanced up, wide-eyed, at the one responsible for her fall from grace. Cian had been looking over his shoulder, the man who'd been following him stopping as he did and staring into a shopfront, when he'd rounded the corner and collided with the young woman. Or... "'m sorry, miss," he quickly said, eyes at first fixed on the appendages he saw that he couldn't quite identify before crouching down to help her to her feet. He saw the foot packages and started to retrieve them as she stared at him. "Weren't watchin' where I were goin'," ( he added apologetically. ) (Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 2nd, 2008
city_limits [ logan_watcher ]	11:39p	Another Step ( Voicemail for Emmeline Keddle ) (Comment on this)
city_limits [ averyisgone ]	10:28p	Letting Go The streets were eerily empty. At 1 AM on a Wednesday morning, only a few people occupied the sidewalk outside the slightly nefarious Tokyo Hotel. Those people usually stumbled, instead of walked. They stepped out into the street, a few taxis here and there blaring their horns at the crazy who decided to tempt late night traffic. Avery was kneeling on the ground, his back against the brick wall. Watching it all unfold. A slight smile played over his lips. He was finding himself to be increasingly content. It was odd. It was...nice. One of the backpackers, Avery thought his name was Alex, came out of the hotel door. He scratched his head and glanced around, finally catching the vampire's eye. "I'm heading out tomorrow," Alex informed him. "We finally got our passports. Europe. Take the train to O'Hare, and we're out. My mom wired me some money," he explained, rambling on in his drawl. "But uh, the plane ticket kinda cleaned me out." Avery nodded sympathetically, not saying anything. After about two weeks, he was used to listening to the trials and tribulations of Alex and his two college dropout-turned-"explorer" friends. It was best to just nod and sometimes smile. Alex regarded him for a moment, then said, "You wanna buy some shit?" "I'm...I'm sorry, what? Buy...shit?" The blond man laughed. "Yeah, man, you know...weed, green." He raised his eyebrows. "Don't tell me you never smoked up. I know you got that cushy little cafe gig, so if you were short a few bucks, you could throw in some of those muffins. Craig loves the blueberry." The vampire laughed and shook his head. "You're trying to sell me drugs." The backpacker took a step back, suddenly cautious. "You're a narc, aren't you? Look, I was just joking..." Avery stood up, held up a hand. "Alex, if I were, wouldn't I be trying to get you to sell me drugs? I'm not too familar with the process, but..." Alex took a deep breath. "Sorry man, I didn't mean to freak on you." He glanced around nervously, then leaned in to whisper to Avery conspiratorially. "Truth is, be glad you're not buyin'. I got some harsh blend or something. Total paranoia." "Go back in the hotel, Alex." Avery patted the man genially on the back as he obliged. When the vampire was once again alone, he let out an embarrassed laugh. "Jeez," he muttered. Then, a female voice issued from somewhere behind him. "Good boy, saying no to drugs. I never liked the smell, anyway. Or the taste..." ( Voices From the Past ) (Comment on this)
city_limits [ faith_5_by_5 ]	9:49p	Little Miss Girly Girl Rooftops didn’t agree with Faith. Probably because the last time she was on one, she found herself stabbed in the gut and left in a coma. So even though she was sure there were probably vampires who liked to hide out among the many rooftops in Chicago, she didn’t really break her neck trying to go after them. The Slayer preferred to do her slaying comfortably on the ground – or at least as high as the second floor, if she found herself in a building of vamps. Trouble was, the ground was hardly fertile when it came to the undead. This was the fourth cemetery Faith spent time in since the sun went down, and all the fresh graves remained undisturbed. Either vampires weren’t turning as many of their victims as before – which was plausible – or something else was killing people. For instance, Faith knew poor Phyllis McDaniel was the victim of lung cancer, not a vampire. Faith might’ve had as much strength as any other demon fighter in the world, but there were some things even she couldn’t fight. Grace didn't much care for graveyards. If she'd wanted to spend her time in the company of the dead, she'd have sought out other vampires to hang out with. But sometimes the quiet setting was better for conducting business than a bar. She was sitting behind the wheel of her car, smoking and fooling with the radio dial while casting moody glances at the clock. Another fifteen minutes, and she was out of here. She wasn't hanging out all night waiting for this asshole. The vampire turned the volume up a little, propping one boot on the dashboard. Fourteen minutes and counting ... ( Doesn't Reek of Death (Adult Content: Violence) ) "Go fuck your mother!" Grace yelled at the Slayer's retreating back. She wiped the spit off of her face, ignoring how much her broken wrist hurt. "Cunt. White trash. Corpse fuckin' ..." She had to stop talking because everything hurt too much, and it wasn't until she heard Felix come to stand close to her that she opened her eyes again. "You're fuckin' late, man." "Traffic." "Uh huh. Help me pick my ass up. I'm gonna cut that bitch's throat." Yeah, Little Miss Girly Girl had gotten one thing right. This wasn't over. For her or for Avery either. (Comment on this)
city_limits [ logan_watcher ]	12:17a	I Owe You ( Denver, Colorado. March 24, 2013. ) (Comment on this)
Monday, September 1st, 2008
city_limits [ logan_watcher ]	10:34p	Right as Rain Izzy had tried to get over to Logan's the night after his phone call, but had ended up having to cover instead for one of the other waitresses at the bar last minute due to a sick child. She'd spent ten hours working both the early and late evening shifts on a game night and had been dead on her feet when she'd finally gone home, so visiting anyone just hadn't been an option. Now that the tech-witch finally had a night off, she was determined to spend some time with her ... boyfriend? Romantic interest? Izzy wasn't quite sure how to categorize Logan yet, as they'd only been on a few dates, but she enjoyed spending time with him and was getting very fond of him. She stood outside his apartment door and knocked, hoping he was home. That was always the risk one took when doing an unannounced visit, you never knew for sure if they were going to be there. Logan was practically swimming in texts now. Okay, that was a little bit of an exaggeration, but between all the books he'd acquired through various means over the past week or so, the former Watcher was well on his way to developing an initial inventory. All he needed now were the funds to set up a place to operate the shop out of, and Logan knew the amount he had set aside, while a fair amount, wasn't enough to do that. A loan would eventually be in order, but before doing that, Logan was trying to make sure he had actual books to sell before he opened the bookstore. Otherwise, there'd be no point. Upon hearing the knock on the door, Logan froze. Did Wolfram & Hart send another hellion to recruit him? Was Elise just that persistent? He certainly hoped not; everything that law firm stood for made Logan sick to his stomach, and the thought of that place having an interest in his services was unnerving at best. Reluctantly, the former Watcher rose to his feet and walked toward the door. Peeping into the hole on the door, Logan exhaled a sigh of relief. Wolfram & Hart hadn't come knocking again. He opened the door with a smile, cocking his head to the side. "Hey there," he said, silently glad he'd elected to shave that morning. "Pleasant surprise." "Hi yourself," she smiled in return, glad to see he was home. The tech-witch had taken a little extra care in her appearance before coming over; it may not be a date, but she wasn't going to let herself look sloppy -- even if she had spent most of the morning out apartment hunting. Izzy stepped through, giving Logan a peck on the cheek as she passed through. "I'm sorry I couldn't get over the other night, they didn't really give me a whole lot o' choice. Layed the guilt trip on pretty thick." Logan returned the kiss to the cheek, closing the door and stealing a look while Izzy's back was turned to him. He chided himself for a moment for that display of typical male behavior, but he wasn't about to deny he enjoyed the view. "That's cool," he said. "It turned out to be not as big a deal as I thought it was." For a moment, the former Watcher panicked. The books were strewn about through the living room; he'd meant to arrange them all in stacks earlier in the day, but a last-minute run into town for a rare volume on werewolves derailed that plan. Though it wasn't the worst-looking apartment Logan had ever seen, it wasn't anywhere near his cleanest, and he worried Izzy would notice. "How're things?" ( Admissions ) ( The Other Night ) ( Francis ) ( Growing Closer ) (Comment on this)
Sunday, August 31st, 2008
city_limits [ averyisgone ]	9:19p	Casual Dining Avery was dressed casually. Casually, because if he dressed up, Rebecca would mistake their dinner for a date. He didn't want to lead the woman on. So, he had put on a long-sleeved dark brown henley and one of his nicer pairs of jeans, black boots. The vampire had attempted to neaten his hair, however, so that was something. He stood outside of Buona Terra restaurant, the sounds of clinking silverware and idle chatter permeating the breezy late summer air. Many of the patrons were dining al fresco. That was good. That meant they could get a good booth inside. He waited patiently for his dinner companion to show up, his new wallet and week's earnings tucked safely in his back pocket. "Best behavior now, darling, this is a public place. You will comport yourself like what you are, a lady. None of your shenanigans, hmm? Besides, maybe you've got the key now, the key to what's going on behind those blue eyes." Rebecca had arrived a bit late on purpose, giving herself time to prepare for meeting Avery at the restaurant, to shore herself up because she might need it. No Valium, though, she'd hidden the bottle from herself on purpose. Maybe being lucid helped, maybe it didn't, but she felt like he might notice if she showed up impaired. She'd made herself pathetic in front of him once already. He was standing on the sidewalk when she arrived, and she found herself comparing his appearance to that of the picture she'd recieved along with the background check. Had he dressed in a similarly casual fashion before, when his heart was still beating? She could hardly ask at this point. Perhaps later, when he'd capitulated further. She knew the type, what it took to get them to give in and...behave. What did the kids call it today, 'sucking up'? Terrible person or not, she could use some sucking up now and then. The Englishmwoman finally got within speaking distance, raised a hand in greeting. "Hello, Avery." ( Standards ) ( Sentimental Value ) ( Friendship ) (Comment on this)
city_limits [ public_image ]	2:57p	Situational Ethics....or Lack Thereof ADLAM, AVERY - CONFIDENTIAL The envelope had been on her desk all morning, and Rebecca had studiously avoided opening it, as though she were a child who'd gotten a very special Christmas present and wanted to put off seeing what was in the box for as long as possible. Or as if she thought she might have recieved a bomb in the mail and didn't want to detonate it by accident. Either option suited her just as well. She sat behind her desk looking at the innocuous-seeming object for over an hour once her schedule was clear for the day, fighting with herself over whether or not to break the seal and peruse the contents. She'd already committed a betrayal by even acquiring the information, hadn't she? Was it really that much worse to look at what she'd asked for? It was hard to tell where the dividing line between Right and Wrong was in situations like these. If she was to be completely right, she wouldn't have the damnable envelope in her possession now. If she was already wrong, how much more wrong could she get? The Englishwoman finally snatched up the brown envelope, then sat there with it in her hands for another forty-five minutes. It was past midnight, and she was alone in the building that housed the offices of the Last Refuge Foundation. It wasn't unusual for her to stay long past everyone else had gone home. What was unusual was for her to sit here dithering as if she didn't know her own mind. She neither liked nor trusted Elise Shelby, had felt almost beslimed merely by being in her presence, and yet the cold-blooded little thing had clearly known her business. Such people always did. Did she? Rebecca's palms had begun to sweat. The corners of the envelope were sharp, and she pressed one into her left palm until it hurt. Avery would not forgive her a second blunder, not even as sweet-natured as he was. If she did this, she would have to be prepared to face the consequences if she were caught. There were always consequences. She looked at the bold type that spelled out the vampire's name. There was a paper shredder in her office. She'd bought it at the end of the last financial quarter, and used it to dispose of correspondence that was past its usefulness. She could use it now, could put this thing through the blades of it and throw it away with the rest of the rubbish when it was done. She didn't have to look. That word, CONFIDENTIAL, seemed to mock her, and she scowled at it. Finally, she could stand it no longer, and there was a tearing sound as she ripped open the flap of the envelope. It was already done, there was no turning away from it now. Rebecca extracted the neatly typed sheets of paper, then separated them to lay them flat on her desktop. Her mouth set itself into a grim line as she began to read. Apparently Avery truly had been a very good boy, as he'd only had one brush with the law, getting taken into custody by the police as a high school student for throwing glass bottles at a passing train. The charge was vandalism and reckless behavior, and he was bailed out by his father when a fine of seventy-five dollars was paid. He was last seen on the twelfth of October, nineteen-sixty-four, and a search party was immediately launched. One of Rebecca's eyebrows went up when she realized that had happened more than a year before she herself had even been born. There was a picture included, and she looked at it for some indeterminate amount of time before putting it down. So that was what the boy looked like with a proper haircut. Handsome Avery... She studied the name of the girl he'd supposedly been in the company of, Margot Freid, wondering where she might have drifted off to. If she was his sire, why hadn't they remained close? Then again, Avery had very little in common with his vampiric peers, so why should this detail be any different? When she was finished reading, Rebecca stacked the sheets together neatly, then looked at them before tucking them back into the envelope. Without allowing herself to think about it, she opened one of her desk drawers and slipped the envelope out of sight, then closed the drawer with a delicacy that was usually reserved for handling fragile glass. It was done. If she was to be a betrayer, she might as well betray him in full. The Englishwoman let out a breath which sounded very loud in the otherwise silent office. "I'm sorry, Avery." Current Mood: uncomfortable (Comment on this)

[ << Previous 25 ]