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| Welcome To The Night You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality. This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories. Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness. Create Your Account! If you're already a member, please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
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| Robbin' Hoods! (pt. 1?) [Ended]; Attn: Church and then Aguirre! | |
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| Topic Started: Monday, 14. April 2014, 12:24 (1,719 Views) | |
| Cid | Monday, 14. April 2014, 12:24 Post #1 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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Knock. Knock. Knock. Goes Agu on the door. Church's place, he knew to a degree. Months it had been since last visiting this flat. Christmas Party! Yeah, that was fun. Exchanging gifts, making jokes to annoy the fuck out of everyone, drunken kisses, and falling into the tree... Poor Hammy... Ah, good times! Oh, but now is a time for business and serious-making. Well, at least a little bit. Business should be pleasure, as well, if one expects to really succeed. Good company was a good start, though Agustin hadn't really known the person he was looking for all that well. Aguirre. Mouse. Sawyer's girlfriend... A potential partner in Robin Hood antics! Once before they had engaged in such shenanigans, right before Agustin had presented himself to the Prince... Gah, the memory made him cringe inside. So close to being so bad. Pity. That's what saved him. Otherwise he might still be on the run, prolly hunkering down in some shite village he had no real business in... Oh, but anyway... London! Agu had some plans. For now, to rob a few houses in some yuppy neigborhood the Lunatic had wandered through a few days ago. Little bit of scouting it out and some things had caught his interest. A lack of security that could really prevent one such as Agustin from getting around... Help, help is also good. Helpful. But there were plenty of nice things to steal from the subjectively deserving fucks flaunting their wealth! As he waited at the door, Agustin wondered what Aguirre had been up to since he last annoyed her. When they first met, there was a hint of a blossoming crush, but that was quickly enough extinguished. Doesn't really take much to remove such thoughts from his head. After all, a friend is better than nothing at all. Such a common weakness it is, pretty girls. Almost pathetic. Anyway, anyway! Knockin' on the door... "Hallo..." |
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| Mac | Thursday, 17. April 2014, 00:08 Post #2 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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The creature at the door was not the one he expected to answer. It was in fact, the towering amazon that had once had the absolute pleasure of stabbing him from over a block away. She swung the door open, standing more or less absolutely nude if not for the thigh length dreads that obscured the athletic vision of her body. She was covered in bruises, thickly laced around her wrists in clearly defined handprints. They licked up her arms, disappearing against the thick tattood sleeve of the one, reappearing across her clavicle and up her neck. Sparsely visible across her kraken tattood torso, but appearing with ferocity at her ass and hips, crisp broken edges of finger print lacerations. She was also covered in bite marks, impressions left on both one shoulder, and her thigh so deeply that even a lick couldn't cause to heal, far beyond the gentle feeding marks of a kiss, each mark looked like it had been relaid over, and over again. Her skin radiated with heat, as she always did, but there was a flush across her cheeks and a raised heart beat to indicate she had recently been engaged in some sort of heavy activity. Her breathing was slightly heavy, and she a glass of water in one hand, and a bottle of clear vodka that smelled toxic in it's intensity in the other, carefully clutched so that she could open the door without putting it down. An eye brow shot up above her hazel eyes, giving him a questioning expression. "What the fuck do you want short bus?" A busted lip seemed to pout, swollen with a light dried crusting of blood across it. Edited by Mac, Thursday, 17. April 2014, 00:15.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Cid | Thursday, 17. April 2014, 03:10 Post #3 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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"... oh." The creature which opened the door was not the one he expected, indeed. Mac, the Viking Hell-bitch that she was. So accurate with a throwing knife. If Batman and the Joker had a lovechild and left her to be raised by Killer Croc. Whom she ended up eating, skin and all. She was truly a sight to behold. In all her semi-supernatural glory. At first, he was surprised, almost shocked. Though, he should have known better. From what he knew, her and Church were fuck-buddies of the highest caliber. Something along those lines. Agustin seemed to shrink back, at first, the memory of being stabbed an unpleasant one. However deserving he might have been. Initial fear was replaced with resolve and the slightest mental arousal once he took the full situation into his headspace. In comparison, Agustin was dressed in some dark blue jeans and a simple black hoody, dark shoes and matching cheap imitation leather gloves. She towered over him by only the slightest inch, though it seemed like much more. Some difference in confidence or something made her seem all the more impressive. And also the kettledrums. Those were mighty. If the young man's dick had still worked the same way as when he were mortal, it would have shot up at the sight of her. He had nothing against strong women, though he might be willing to put some things against them. She had clearly been engaged prior in certain heavy-duty activities, though the fledgling hadn't near the requisite experience to really pinpoint just what methods had been employed to put that heat on her, those bruises, and that rasp in her voice. You know those moments when you actually think of a perfect comeback? A glorious event, for most people. Usually it happens days after the fact, in the shower, when a sudden epiphany hits you and you feel both pride for your wit and regret for not being quicker. Well, this one actually came to him in the moment. She referred to him as 'short bus'. Obviously, "Oh, I'm here to pick you up. Have you got yer helmet?" Said with the faintest smirk emerging. Oh, yes... Turning the tables... On himself, most likely. Edited by Cid, Thursday, 17. April 2014, 16:29.
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| Mac | Thursday, 17. April 2014, 18:17 Post #4 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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"You wanna...'drive' me somewhere kid?" She leaned against the door frame, biting into that lower lip in a way only Mac seemed able to perfect, tension and playfulness expressed within it. It caused the scabbed cut to pinch and crack open, slowly seeping a gentle tint of red across the trailing curve of her pouty, swollen lower lip. Hazel eyed, full of the remants of a certain climax, seemed to light over the young man like a predator sizing up its prey. Did he want to be devoured? Her eyes were somewhat challenging, expression hungry. His skin was so smooth, so innocent. Those puppy dog eyes so very thrilling to her nature, like a mouse being thrown into the pit with the viper. Did he want her to lay the sort of gratification on him she was soooo very good at? She pushed open the door further, as if inviting him in, but she wouldn't move out of the door frame herself. If he wanted in, he was going to have to slide right past her naked, blood stained form. She raised the bottle of vodka to her lips, tipping it back so the cool contents burned against the bloody interior of her mouth. It made her groan out loud, and she pulled the bottle away and licked a tongue across the traces that tried to slip away down the swollen lower lip. |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Cid | Friday, 18. April 2014, 02:13 Post #5 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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What the fuck? Even the way she drank what he could only assume was gasoline somehow came across the most seductive thing he'd ever seen. Agustin didn't think of himself as innocent, although compared to one such as stood in front of him now... He could see why people might think of him so. He was like an angel barely on his trip down falling from the heavens. And she a devil, tempting him to sin... Oh, so tempting... She seemed to open the way for him, but only slightly. If he made the wrong move, he was definitely within reach for whatever she might inflict upon him. The poor little Lunatic... The sight of the faintest trail of blood on her lips, the scent in the air. Urges in him coiled up from the darkness, he wanted to feed, wanted to fuck, wanted to... Hell, clean her up and maybe wrap her in bandages for a while. Lay her on a nice soft couch and just talk about stuff, y'know..? He recognized a certain part of the look in her eyes, maybe. Only twice before was there ever the opportunity, though, which might even seem an achievement to some given the circumstances. But those ones were oh-so-eager and easy to please. One could only assume not at all like the one in front of him now, though no such ambition even entered his headspace. Still trying to make sense of the situation, in it's most obvious implications. He was confused, but only by the grace of his derangement was he able to speak words. Words which could do him no damn good at all. The Lunatic stepped forward, right foot in front, though didn't move otherwise. Mismatched eyes trailed down and back up her entire form for a moment. The words were difficult to find, at least words that wouldn't end in too much suffering. He tried to ignore her calling him a 'kid'. How many decent comebacks could he fire off in one night, anyway? "Anyone else... Home?" He managed out. The reason for being here in the first place, he wasn't at all sure how to put it, regarding Church. Boyfriend? Owner? Fuck-buddy? Could you please just get it over with and stab me again. As many times as you want, of course! "Tempting as it may be to take you somewhere... " Somehow, the words came out smooth like viscous unclotted blood, in a way imitating her own tone. Incubus accent to match her succubus dialect. He wasn't trying to, though. It was just his way with words... "That's not really what I'm here for..." Only the slightest hint in his emphasis of words to say otherwise. |
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| Mac | Friday, 18. April 2014, 18:18 Post #6 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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His confusion and indescision was beautiful, gratifying. The way he eyed her form, seeing that flickering of hunger on his face, it just made her grin as she lowered the bottle of vodka to her side. Very uncharacteristically, she actually raised the glass of plain water in her other hand and took a sip, corners of her lips flickering in sadistic amusement. It's a myth to think that Amazon lives off Vodka alone, especially when all you've been doing the last handful of days is experience the most hardcore intense work out possible through fucking a deranged Brujah. She was alive, living and breathing as her heavy heartbeat and rising and fall chest was testament to. She did, reluctantly, have to indulge in feeding her mortality now and then. Was she Alone? Now that was a stupid fucking question. Was anyone else home? What, she just got leveled with a fresh and clear beating by... a ghost? An apparition? She was in fact totally alone in someone else's apartment, beating herself? Well, alright. That latter one was maybe not entirely off kilter, she very well might come off as someone who might take this approach to self inflicted Masochism. She made a sudden and disjointed move for him, like a lunge, except that she only moved a few inches. It was a fake lunge, a decoy, as her hands were full and she just wanted to see if she could make the poor boy stumble back out of fright. Mac was a cunt like that. "Church is in the bedroom... You -need- him for somethin?" An eyebrow kinked upwards. Edited by Mac, Friday, 18. April 2014, 18:28.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Cid | Friday, 18. April 2014, 19:08 Post #7 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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For a split second, it seemed as though she had gone for the attack. Agustin reacted in one of the most natural ways for him. By seizing up! Paralyzed with indecision for the briefest of moments whether to fight or fly... Mac was a friend of a friend. Or friends, depending on how one looks at it. Why would she want to fuck with the poor little Lunatic like this..? Oh, for fuck's sake, nevermind. She was only toying with him. He pretty much flinched, well almost... So he prolly deserved one for that. At least he didn't stumble or yelp like a scared puppy. That would be decidedly out of character. "Yeah..." He said with bit of a sigh. "I'm actually looking for Aguirre, if possible. I heard she left or something." He tried to look away, at least keep his mismatched eyes on her own hazels. It took some effort, but it was working for now... Church was in the bedroom... Oh... Oh! Fuck. Well, now it was obvious. Big Brujah badass and London's most hardcore warghoul or whatever the fuck she actually was... Of course there would be bruises and diesel fuel in the wake of such monsters struggling for dominance and whatnot in the closest of quarters combat... "I hope I'm not interrupting..." |
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| Mac | Friday, 18. April 2014, 19:32 Post #8 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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She laughed, a low snickery chuckle at his tension. She did enjoy watching people react to her, and his reaction was absolutely priceless. Frozen? Jesus christ. "What the fuck was that? You didnt fight or flight, you god damned deer in the head lights. Are you a fucking doe kid? Standing in the street waiting to be hit by a car?" What was wrong with this kooky fucker? Its like he invited being victimized, standing there and taking it. Her brows wrinkled together the longer she looked at him, then the hand holding the bottle of Vodka moved. A thumb corked the top, to prevent spillage, as she used it to try and smack him (mildly) upside the head with it. "You either fucking run, or you fight. You stand there, and you die... or you get beat up. Whichever." She didnt move from the doorway, she stayed, looking rather disgusted by Agustin now. Didn't even have the decency to stumble backwards. Ugh. If only she had a knife on her, she'd stab the little fucker just to teach him how rude and inane it is to just... freeze up. What sort of survival strategy was that? "HEY DOC.... You got a visitor looking for Mouse. Ain't she in America?" Edited by Mac, Friday, 18. April 2014, 19:32.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Friday, 18. April 2014, 19:52 Post #9 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Visitor? I sit up and run a hand through my hair, having figured something had delayed Mac beyond grabbing the vodka. Cockteasing mind games - maybe. But the fact that someone's at the door? Looking for the Mouse? Could be trouble. Trouble usually warrants putting a pair of pants on in order to show it what for, but I figure Mac is perceptive enough to not let trouble walk in. So I swing those bare legs over the bedside and plant 'em, wincing as I do so at the grinding of bones at the hip. That last bout might have dislocated something. Meh. Nothing slows down the fuck train, but it does make it noticeably limp as it goes for the door. "Who'sit?" I call down the corridor, the apartment being somewhat sparsely lit when we're getting all 'romantic.' Me and Mac are dressed in matching birth suits, complete with blood and bruise patterns. Key difference being fang marks that scatter her form are replaced by very ordinary looking dentures on me. That and her body having the resilience mine don't, but, while the skin splits and cracks here and there, I ain't allowed to bleed too much. Also, Mac doesn't have the chain accessory hanging around her shoulders. It makes quite the gag, I tell you. She tightens it up when I need to stop talking, she loosens it when it's time to feast. Visible red markings trace my cheeks from this use, cause she is thankfully never gets gentle. "Hey, I know you." I point at the guy, tone positively delightful, trying to figure out where and when I saw that face. I am oblivious and unashamed by my nudity, the tattoo's make me feel like I'm constantly wearing a tux. "You were here...right?" Didn't he give me...a necklace? At Flint's disastrous shindig? Incidentally the time where Aguirre decided to up and at 'em. "Aguirre ain't here." I lie. Convincingly? Eh, maybe. It's hardly a unbelievable lie, and frankly, I wanna get back to business. "She'll be back soon but...no she ain't here." |
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| Cid | Saturday, 19. April 2014, 03:35 Post #10 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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Her words and laughter gnawed at the boy's spirit like rabid honeybadgers. She had oh so many ways of unnerving those who didn't have nerves of fuckin' Weapon-X grade Adamantium, it seemed. Wait... Kid!? Boy!? Agustin is a man, gods damn it!! The bottle knocked against his head surprisingly gently, he had no reaction to it save for a blink of a flinch. He mustered some courage. Enough to speak again. Bass filled his voice and challenged the warrior-princess in front of him... "Is that what you want? Fight or flight? The view is just fine where I stand. Aerial is too distant, even for ones yer size." Some innuendo. Sprinkled with a dash of 'go fuck yourself'. Served up piping cold, stick your tongue to it, bitch. Not so much the words, as the tone of his voice. Full of things resembling pride and confidence... America..? Then came Church out into the front room... In lovey-dovey couple tradition, they wore matching suits... Birthday suits... Holy fuck. It just- it wasn't expected, is all. Though, he rightly should have! Gods, he should have expected it... There's only so much you can expose a fragile Malkavian mind to in such short bursts! He felt so inadequate in comparison... Of course the guy was bigger... Big Brujah wrasslin' lookin' mo'fucka' like him. Had to be packin' some serious heat, 'specially messin' with the Kraken's bigger, bitchier, sister. S'just... Fuck. One of the first things to pop into his headspace was an echoing 'Oh, c'mon!' Then there was silence. Then static. Then the sound of a 56k modem kicking into gear. "Um... Yeah, if you could jus'- I mean. If I could leave my new number or somethin' here for whenever she gets back." The mask on his features was a peculiar mix of shock, terror, horror, disgust, arousal, and the pallor of final death. Operating on instinct and the fact that he had actually practiced in a mirror earlier some of what he might have to say tonight. A la Winston Churchill. 'Cept not as politically successful. Or fat. [Agustin gives his new cellphone number, written on a sticky note] "kthxbai." Then he left. Cold, dead movements. He needed a shower now. Edited by Cid, Saturday, 19. April 2014, 06:18.
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| Mac | Saturday, 19. April 2014, 16:35 Post #11 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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If there had been a knife on her person, she would have stabbed the kid again. Just because she could, see if she got a fight or flight out of him then. However, knives didn't enter the playground between her and Church unless someone was legit ticked off. The last few nights were displays of anything but hateful violence, every lashing and bite was invited, and in some cases, begged for. His tone of voice was recieved, but sadly, the attempt at intimidation washed over her like a soft breeze. He might as well have blown air at her and expected her to fall over. She did grin though, shaking her head as she shrugged a shoulder. "Can't blame you for lookin..." Just like Church couldn't blame her for looking, with a hyena's grin as he came from the bedroom in a matching suit. He looked, happy? Yep, he looked sort of interested and genuinely happy to see the weird kid at the door. Church being so enthusiastic about guests was strange, and highly amusing. She took a bit of a swell to her pride at that, because his genial mood was due to her fantastic ministrations upon that rock solid form of his. God he looked beautiful, and as he came to the door she made a note to take more time to step back and adore his bruises. "Yep. Got it. Will post it on the door of flints old room." Meaning, the fridge. She looked at Church as the kid left, shrugging. "He left in a hurry... I think maybe he was intimidated by your tie..." Her hand slid to take hold of the chain that he'd left around his neck, twisting it around the hand still holding a bottle of vodka. Her tongue probed at the cut at her lip, stinging sweetly from a recent dose of that clear fuel she enjoyed so much. Edited by Mac, Saturday, 19. April 2014, 16:36.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Sunday, 20. April 2014, 00:37 Post #12 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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And he's gone. His face got all scrunched up and pained lookin', then he split. "Bye then, I guess." I wave before pushing the door shut. I look at the sticky pad now attached to my finger. Interesting. I smirk at her comment regarding my 'tie,' and the fact that our visitors visit was so short lived. Suits me fine, cause hell if me and Mac can co-exist in a pants-less environment and not have things get nasty. It would've been a free peep show like no other. "No idea who that guy is. You? Pretty sure it weren't no Dove..." Ah fuck it, Flint's room it is. I'd actually text Aguirre to let her know about it, just to make sure things aren't trickier than they appear. But I don't have her number. Hell, I don't have a phone. My eyes lingered on the door for a little too long, especially as I felt the rustle of the chain as she takes the reins once again. "What the fuck am I even doing, baby?" I ask with furrowed brows to compliment my weary eyes, wrapping my hands back around her. "Anybody would think I don't treat you good." They really would. Spending a minute longer pondering the guy who, now in my mind, intruded upon our masterpiece - what kind of asshole am I? I press that hard belly into my own, her ridiculously ample bust the only thing causing any separation. My eyes beg her to 'latch on' in her usual manner before I lean in to taste the vodka on her breath. The sticky note falls to the floor somewhere amidst this, but it's fine. I'll tell Aguirre as soon as possible! Which may or may not be tomorrow. Or the night after. Or the night after that. Probably should let Mac know at some point to... |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Monday, 21. April 2014, 06:19 Post #13 |
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Mouse
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A night spent out of the house had become a night slinking around out of sight, hoping not to be seen by people who knew the familiar face of Aguirre Maddox. Her run in with Sawyer had been messy enough without somehow finding her way to Moshe or Dove and having them outwardly wonder where she'd gone, ask questions to whom the only answer was "mind your fuckin' business". Of course, when Mac arrived at the apartment, the Brujah knew that meant she sure wouldn't want to be there once she and Damon were out of sight together. Being out of sight didn't at all equate to the level of noise they made, which she knew from an uncomfortable and lengthy experience wherein all she could hear was a sound akin to the rending of flesh and dying animal moans. It's funny what roommates do when they don't think (or care?) that you're home, although she sure hadn't wanted to answer to Mac yet, either. That shit would have ended in the ass kicking of a life time, but that might have just been Aguirre's assumption of Mac's reaction to everything. Still, at least the commotion remained in Damon's bedroom long enough for Aguirre to get the fuck out of dodge. She hadn't gone back home in a few days as a result of knowing their sex life was none of her business, choosing instead to find refuge in much less comfortable places when the sun came up--namely the dumpster down the street which once belonged to a business that was no longer there. Luckily it wasn't a restaurant, but dumpsters did inevitably wreak, so Aguirre wasn't the loveliest sight to behold with any one of the five senses at the moment. Still, she moseyed her way down Church Street, going to check that perhaps the apartment was free of things that were inherently unpleasant to her own delicate (Delicate? Just who the fuck you think you're talkin' about?) tastes. It wasn't expected, and if Mac was still there, she certainly would not be. It would have just been nice to take a shower and curl up in a bed that didn't smell like cat piss, honestly. Dull bronze eyes scanned the area as she came closer to home, only to see the familiarly slouching form of a Malkavian she hadn't seen since Christmas. Familiar faces were something she tried to avoid for the most part, of course, but it was strange to see him walk out of her apartment building in such a hurry. Uncomfortable hurry. Yeah, Mac was still there--or Aguirre was completely desensitized to the way Church tended to handle unexpected or suspicious visitors, and if she remembered correctly, Agustin was suspicious by nature. Not that she could say anything against it, because that would just by hypocritical. Still, with curiosity as her permanent leading lady in death, she sped up her footsteps to meet with the lunatic before he could disappear into the night. Was he looking for Sawyer? Was the Nosferatu so out of touch with the old crowd that he'd left the kid hanging with nothing but a retired forwarding address? There was always the possibility that he needed help, and while Aguirre did try to keep her nose out of the business of others in recent nights, she would certainly redirect the message if need be. At this point, the form of a rather filth-smeared woman would become more obvious--mostly because she was within eighteen meters of him, and if he hadn't realized it was her before hand, he wasn't paying attention. Even so, she stepped into his path in a somewhat casual fashion, a brow raised in question of his existence in this part of London. "What're you doin' out here, Agustin? Ain't you got safer places to be?" |
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| Cid | Monday, 21. April 2014, 08:32 Post #14 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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Walking... Stop. Walk some more. Contemplate what had just transpired. No, don't do that. For fuck's sake, don't do that. Wait until tomorrow or something. Let the shock dissipate. He should have been prepared... 'I have born witness the Gods of Fuck fresh from the field of battle. Nothing can compare.' The words echoed in his mind like a chorus of oracles atop a grey streaked mountain. Steaming from crags, poisonous fumes which caused the strongest constitution to burn into visions. Nightmares and wonders melted together and painted across the sky like a canvas of blood and dirt. The smell of garbage and a familiar-ish voice pulled him out of broken introversion. He looked up from his slouching gait to see the dirty form of the woman he was looking for earlier. Why did she look like she just rolled around in the landfill? Was it some sort of disguise? Ah, fuck it. Nothing makes sense anymore. "Aguirre..?" Agustin muttered out, clearly confused, his head cocking to the side quizzically. His nose scrunched in disgust. Why was he even breathing? Stahp breathin', you won't smell it! "I, uh, I was lookin' for you..." |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Monday, 21. April 2014, 21:20 Post #15 |
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Mouse
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The look on Agustin's face told her that she smelt worse than she thought. Oh, joy. Well, at least she'd taken to breathing less in recent nights than she used to--it wasn't a thoughtless impulse anymore, but something Aguirre really had to think about to initiate. At that moment, with the thought of breath actually crossing her mind, she inhaled... And donned almost the same face as the Lunatic standing befuddled before her. Sweet baby jesus, I need a shower like a dyin' man needs water. This visit would decidedly be one short of breath unless absolutely necessary; unfortunately, to create words, one first needed something in their lungs to push out with the sound. It would have been nice if being dead actually killed one's ability to smell too--then again, it wasn't quite so bad when in application to a decent blood bag, but at the moment it was downright offensive. Hopefully he didn't notice the flicker of a similar thought crossing her features. "Well, you found me. What's up? ...And, uh, has Mac gone home yet? She don't know I'm back yet, does she?" the willowy, dumpster-scented woman asked hopefully, despite knowing the answer to at least half of her question. Thing was, if Mac was still there and suddenly decided it would be a good idea to go home, she didn't want to be seen. The Brujah seemed a little antsy, shifting weight from one foot to the other with wary eyes on the front door of the building. "Actually, y'know what, let's walk and talk. C'mon." Aguirre turned on her heel and started walking the opposite direction without giving him the opportunity to protest. He had been looking for her, right? Surely he wouldn't be opposed to a little walk down the block. Maybe a few blocks. Maybe to the metro station. Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Monday, 21. April 2014, 21:25.
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| Cid | Monday, 21. April 2014, 22:05 Post #16 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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Fortunately, with but a mental effort, his breathing stopped. The scents trailing off the woman, whom he remembered being slightly less pale, stung at his nose and threatened to attack his taste buds as well. Agustin was a bit out of his wits, at the moment. Hopefully they would return to him shortly. Wafts akin to smelling salts, perhaps, kicking him in the face could facilitate that process? Then he had to speak again. Ugh. "Yeah, uh... Mac." He sighed, having to go back the last few minutes and dig out a few of the amazon's words. "She thinks you're still in the States, I think." Bruises and scabs, chains and bite-marks, and a baby's arm holding an apple- Gah! His hands reached up for his face and tried to wipe away the image, then he tried to shake them away. No cigar. Hrm... Maybe a cigar would help? Fire, even just a spark, tended to clear his mind rather well... Or, y'know, a walk 'n' talk might just do. As long as the subject isn't Mac and Church and any of their goings on... "Yeah, yeah, sure. Walk sounds good." He said as he had to shortly sprint up to her to be side by side. He never thought the pretty little Brujah would be the one to make him look so much more appealing in comparison. |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Monday, 21. April 2014, 22:32 Post #17 |
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It was good to hear that Mac didn't know yet. Honestly, Aguirre was sure Church would tell their little patchwork family just to spite her--which was apparently not the case, and a relief to say the least. She recalled his threat to tell Sawyer she'd arrived with a shiver, contemplating momentarily just how much worse that would have been compared to how she ran into him at the Tripper. She hadn't quite gotten the hang of being back yet, hadn't found her feet, but at least at that point she was starting to find her bearings again. If she'd seen him any earlier, it could have ended in nothing but disaster--not that it didn't, if only for the fact that it was a slightly less disastrous event. Running into Agustin was a little different, being that she didn't know him as well as she should. It would have worried her a week or two ago since he was pretty close amigos with the Nosferatu, but at the moment he was the person she had to worry about the absolute least. Especially if he was looking for her, specifically. Speaking of... "So what're you lookin' for me for? Somebody got themselves trapped in a dilapidated buildin'? Fight club goin' tonight? I sure wouldn't mind gettin' into the gamblin' game." Considering what she was usually called for, she figured that fight club would have been the most fun--she could have won a fight with the biggest, baddest Brujah bad ass in there with sheer stink, dead guy or not. Maybe they could make a run and place some bets. Isn't that what was supposed to happen when the game was rigged? Then again, the Malkavian jogging back up at her side didn't seem the type to handle large, violent crowds very well. Did he even know what fight club was? Funny thought, that. More amusing still was the look that had been plastered on his face since he got within five feet of her. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I smell like rot. Quit givin' me that look. You wouldn't wanna go back home if you had to be alone with them two, either--and dumpsters don't exactly come with luxury bath tubs installed, y'know? Hold your breath, s'what I've been doin' for the last few days. Til now, anywho. Better be worth it, whatever you got in mind for the evenin', 'specially if you gotta spend it with my sorry ass." |
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| Cid | Tuesday, 22. April 2014, 02:46 Post #18 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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Agustin nodded to Aguirre nervously, still a little shell-shocked. Might take a while just to get his bearing back. Anyway, focus on the task at hand. He stepped forward, awkwardly, to stay in front of her, up wind. Whatever it's called. Out of the direction of the garbage-corpse. Ugh. Don't even think about it. He'd breathe with his mouth, if it weren't for the threat of tastin' her instead... "Oh, I was hopin' we could work together." He said, trying desperately to straighten his face. Looking away, when he could. "I found some nice yuppy lots ripe for the viking treatment." Ach, don't think about vikings... "I mean, uh... You know what I mean. Like last time, 'cept more serious. Get some good loot, hopefully. You have better contacts for this kinda work than me, right?" He looked back at her, hoping not to catch a bad wind. Or, at the very least, make sure he wasn't just confusing the fuck outta her. He might have just been speaking Spanish for all his coherent logic right now... |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Tuesday, 22. April 2014, 05:03 Post #19 |
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"I got contacts, but mostly I just got myself. Had Sawyer for a while, but... Suffice it to say that theft wasn't his cup of tea." Aguirre glanced sideways for a moment before letting her gaze drop to the sidewalk again. They had, at one point, gone on a heist together--and it was actually far more fun than she anticipated, especially when Sawyer took to criticizing the tastes of both of his companions. The thought made her smile briefly for the first time in a long while, though it was gone within a few short moments. Eyes drew back up, sizing Agustin up as she cleared the thought from her mind. "If I'm bein' honest, I didn't think you were really into this sorta thing either. Seems like you got a better conscience than me. You just bored or fallen on hard times? Not that it's any of my business or nothin'." She stuffed her hands uncomfortably into the pockets of her dirt-smeared jeans, chewing her bottom lip. Did she really want to help Agustin get the hang of larceny? It hadn't ever really hurt her, right? It was just a matter of making sure he knew how not to get caught. "Anyway, I've been casin' a pretty nice place, but I wanna see what you got. Course, in this shape, I'll end up leadin' a trail all the way there and back. But whatever. So what you wanna do, exactly? Where we headed?" |
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| Cid | Tuesday, 22. April 2014, 05:47 Post #20 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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Agustin stepped closer. Close enough, he hoped, to speak more in a whisper and still be heard. Fuck it, he'd have to get used to the smell. There were far worse things to endure, and he'd endured a few of them already. He took a moment or more to warm his brain back up, slowly, not to set it on fire again. Logic engaged... Unfortunately, he didn't catch that short-lived smile of the sickly lookin' Brujah. But he let the mention of Sawyer fall by the wayside. It was clear the Nossie wanted to keep his hands clean of certain deeds he couldn't necessarily reconcile. Agustin didn't see the trouble, though. Some people were just askin' for it. They'd suffer no real loss from a picked pocket or cleaned of their home's gadgets and jewelry. That's what insurance is for, ain't it? "Conscience ain't got nuthin' to do with it. The work's as old as anything. People might say whorin' is the oldest job, but c'mon. Stealin' it came first, s'the ugly truth. But we ain't even doin' it like that. We only take from those who don't even deserve what they got. Like Robin Hood, eh? Rich cunts." He spat onto the sidewalk, pink saliva, and then shrugged. The young man sighed as he took a step back away from Aguirre. "Besides, I've never seen a yuppie work anywhere near as hard as mi abuelo. Worked three jobs most o' his life. My blood's already earned enough, I'm only earnin' it again by wrestin' the loot from their greedy clutches." That felt like enough reasoning to give, why Agustin could so easily steal nowadays. Of course, Agustin not having said Kine blood in him anymore had no bearing on the argument itself. "Anyway, I don't think we could do anything tonight. 'Specially not in yer shape. I only came kinda prepared in case you might be, um, ready for business already. We might need some gear, too. That guy Tauren's got some tech, right? Might need, like, some sorta jammer. GPS. Gadgets nowadays have trackers in 'em, don't they?" Edited by Cid, Tuesday, 22. April 2014, 08:17.
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