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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: |
| Fresh Meat; Open Introduction | |
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| Topic Started: Saturday, 3. August 2013, 23:17 (1,105 Views) | |
| Sawyer | Saturday, 3. August 2013, 23:17 Post #1 |
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The sky was a dim, sick orange as he prowled the street, the clouds reflecting the omnipresent glow of the sodium vapor streetlights. Daytime at night, he thought ruefully. Or the closest I'll ever see. Everything's upside down in this city. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was on his tail- and Sawyer Flint's gut feelings were, unfortunately, accurate more often than not. Call it a sixth sense, or maybe too many run-ins with trouble, but the Nosferatu always seemed to know when something was going to go wrong. Which isn't too impressive, to be honest, when most things around you seem to go wrong. He hadn't always been so unlucky. For most of his unlife, Sawyer might as well be carrying four-leaf clovers in his pockets; things always worked out the way he wanted. But ever since the fall of the East Coast, it'd been a near-decade long string of absolute bullshit, and he had a nasty feeling that even escaping across an ocean wouldn't stop that. Even getting here had been a nightmare. Two weeks stuck in a shipping container, seasick and starving for blood; maybe those Ventrue assholes could jetset their way around the world in private planes, but if there was one thing transatlantic flights always seemed to serve up with their peanuts and pretzels, it was blazing sunlight. While a flaming Nosferatu might have been an interesting sight in a cramped passenger cabin, Sawyer wasn't exactly adventurous enough to try that one out... The rain had been pouring when he finally made it to the Port of Tilbury, and as he emerged from the cargo ship unnoticed, Sawyer'd been as miserable and wet as a drowned kitten. What a welcome to the old world. He'd stayed the night in an abandoned metro tunnel, and walked the train tracks until he popped out here, in an empty station under renovation. The signs said Enfield. Sawyer didn't have any damn idea where that was. Maybe if he had a little luck, he'd find the rest of his clan tonight. Maybe if he had no luck, he'd find the Sabbat. Who knew? Not for the first time, Sawyer wondered why the hell he was here in London anyway. He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his leather jacket and looked at it, frowning. He'd left a voicemail for the supposed primogen earlier. No word back from this Henderson guy. Figured. If you were old as dirt, the world moved slowly. Sighing, he tucked it back away, hoping nobody'd care much about one Nossie out on the streets without permission. The streets in Enfield were quiet; the drunks were just beginning to trickle in and out of the bars, and no one paid Sawyer much mind. He didn't stand out much, hunched over, hands in his pockets, hoodie up over his head, scarf pulled up. All you could see were his eyes- bright, yellow, and totally alien. Sawyer couldn't shake his hunted feeling. Someone, something, was watching him. Should've known better than this. Should've gone straight to the Cammies. Well, shit. Guess I'll be making new friends sooner than I thought. He ducked into a Starbucks uneasily. With his mask up, Sawyer didn't stick out in any situation. Freckles and blue eyes, messy brown hair and a gap-toothed grin, a nose that'd been broken more than a few times- Sawyer could be one of a thousand guys, and nobody'd give him a second glance. He ordered a black coffee, his eyes constantly darting towards the windows. Whoever was following him would have to walk by, wouldn't they? And if he didn't see 'em, if they were just as good with masks and shadows as him, well... a public place might be the best place to meet 'em after all. He paid for the coffee in change, cupping it in his hands just to feel the warmth. He sat at a table with a good view of the street, eyes scanning like a hawk's. I'm waiting for y'all, he thought, cold fingers grateful for the comfort of the untouched coffee. Whoever you are. |
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| Sakhr | Sunday, 4. August 2013, 05:46 Post #2 |
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It was a nice night for London. Warm with the heat of the previous day, the street lights bright. Cloudy but when was it not in England? Sakhr's thin lips twitched up into a small, terse smile at the thought. The expression vanished in a flash however, settling back into the carefully composed distant look he had spent decades cultivating. Still, it was good to be home. Not just in London but in the borough he had grown up in too. He passed by a corner that used to host a candy shop he would take his younger siblings to as a teenager, now just a convenience store. His parents' home was in the neighborhood nearby. Or used to be. Like as not, they probably weren't even alive anymore. Not that he'd ever bothered to check. Best to just let sleeping dogs lie and all that. Movement caught his eye and they flicked over to follow it, hidden behind the sunglasses he always wore. He didn't slow in his walk though, didn't turn his head. There were a few others in the streets. Mostly drunks out for a night on the town. He stepped around one such group in his perusal, disdain conveyed in a raised eyebrow as one clipped his shoulder. The rowdy bunch at least gave him an excuse to turn his head towards the figure across the street that had gotten his attention though. Alone. Nervous. Bundled up on such a warm night too. The Brujah turned back to look at his own path, eyes flicking towards the other. Male? Possibly. Seemed tall enough for it. Around Sakhr's height perhaps. Probably just some kine that didn't want to be noticed, for good or ill. But it made Sakhr a bit more careful all the same. Enfield was not Camarilla territory after all and even if the Anarchs weren't as dangerous as the Sabbat, it was best to take caution. Particularly with the Sabbat having apparently tried their luck a few times in the north. Besides, even if it was just a lone, jumpy kine... Well, no sense in passing up an opportunity for practice or a potential meal, now was there? He deliberately slowed his pace a little, just enough to not be too noticeable, letting the pilgrim get some distance, staying on his own side of the street. When the figure broke off to duck into the coffee shop, Sakhr waited a few moments, deliberately adjusting the collar of his turquoise button down before brushing his braids back behind his ears. Having deemed he had given his curious little friend enough time to settle, the Brujah crossed the street, scanning the patrons through the shop windows before stepping inside. Edited by Sakhr, Sunday, 4. August 2013, 06:05.
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Sunday, 4. August 2013, 07:24 Post #3 |
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Enfield seemed busier than usual tonight. People were actually out on the streets--somewhat unwise as far as she was concerned--doing what ever it was they did and talking with whomever it was they involved themselves with. Aguirre had gone out for the purpose of people watching somewhere besides the Tripper, but found that the general public to be frightfully boring. Even the weather was disappointing; the clouds covered the stars so she couldn't see them, but kept a tight hold on their moisture like greedy children withholding candy. What the hell did London think it was doing being dry, anyway? The Brujah watched night walkers pass the front window of the Starbucks, examining faces every so often when they decided this was the place they wanted to be. Sure it was sort of hipster-mania, but if there was one thing hipsters had decent taste in, it was probably coffee. She was dead, but she could still enjoy a black coffee with gratuitous sugar as much as the next guy, especially when a good dark roast was available with which she could fry her taste buds. The dark-haired woman scanned over the current occupants of the establishment again, eyes stopping on the activities of each person like clockwork from left to right. From the back, she saw first the bored barista, reading something on her phone with a tired look in her eye. Aside from her and a couple customers with their noses deep in books, if tumbleweeds would have blown through at that moment, it would have only been more fitting. She tapped at the tin cigarette case in her pocket, itching to go outside. Besides, no one new had come in for like half an hour. At least, not until the very moment she thought about getting up form her uncomfortable wooden chair. It was as if the gods had heard her cry of tedium! A taller man walked by the window and into the shop; he looked awful warm, especially with that scarf. She could hardly imagine what possessed someone to dress for spring on such a comfortable summer night. Actually, 'comfortable' was more of a loose term for 'sticky' at the moment, and indeed she was sticky in a blank tank top, torn jeans, and her old scuffed boots. Humidity was a bitch. The man walked in and sat like he was either nervous or expectant of trouble. Strange to see a mannerism like that in a bigger guy. After a minute or two more, in came a second interesting face. It was a face that made her think automatically of that cheesy '80's song about wearing sunglasses at night. He looked proper, crisp, like he'd just stepped off an ironing board. Even his hair was sectioned and tucked away safely behind his ears. She was happy she occupied such a perfect watch tower, because she could only wonder if Shades was the trouble the bug guy had been expecting; she wanted to see how this episode unraveled. Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Sunday, 4. August 2013, 07:33.
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| Sawyer | Sunday, 4. August 2013, 21:42 Post #4 |
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There was probably a time when Sawyer wouldn't have been caught dead in a Starbucks, but now that he appeared to be both caught and dead, the setting didn't seem to matter much. He pulled his hood down and unwound his scarf from around his neck; it was warmer inside the shop than in the night air. But in this rain-soaked, foggy town, it seemed like he could never quite get comfortable. Nothin' here feels right. The coffee shop was half-full of students and bleary-eyed hipsters, and it was lit by the glow of a half-dozen laptop screens. Sawyer's eyes never left the street outside. He didn't have to wait long. The door opened, a bell tinkled, and in walked Sawyer's buddy. His long ears twitched, as they often did when he tried to listen closer, though the movement was indiscernible under his mask. Same footfalls. Yep. This was his guy, all right. The man was tall, dark, and- Sawyer, no authority on the subject, hazarded a guess- probably handsome. He held his shoulders high, his back straight. Good posture. A predator's posture. Well, damn. Why isn't it ever pretty kine girls who follow me around? Sawyer thought with a lonely sigh. He took a second look at the guy, who hadn't approached him yet. Sawyer'd have to be oblivious, however, to think the dude hadn't noticed him. Nice clothes, sunglasses at night. Sunglasses at night? Well, double damn. They were round and mirrored, and the figure's eyes could betray no emotion as Sawyer met them. He'd only ever seen Sabbat wear those damn things around in the dark, probably just to give mortals the creeps. Wouldn't it just be my luck for the Sabbat to catch me before anyone even knows I'm here? Typical. Doesn't help that he's looking at me like I might be his next meal. Well, at least I'll dissuade the bastard of that notion. Sawyer flashed a tight, wry smile at the guy. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to betray his uneasiness. His voice was pleasant as he spoke. "If you're looking for a dinner date, bro, I'm afraid you're a little too late. How about you just sit down and we have ourselves a nice chat?" |
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| Sakhr | Monday, 5. August 2013, 00:43 Post #5 |
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He pulled open the door, giving one last perusal of the students and assorted customers in a would be lazy manner. Despite the confident posture though, his right foot slid back a bit, ready to backtrack quickly should he be walking into something unexpected. It seemed his friend had noticed him after all. Behind the shades, dark eyes studied the man revealed behind the scarf. Straddling the line of handsome and cute, in that sort of way that Sakhr had heard called wholesome back in America. Freckles and messy brown hair that hung in big blue eyes. A bit bulkier than than the slender Sakhr, though it evened out with Sakhr being a hair taller. Being called out made him smile briefly, a flash of white teeth vivid against dark skin. He approached the other man after a moment of consideration, stepping close with hands clasped behind his back. Not so close to be invading personal space but enough to seem more in control. Once caution had been put aside, it was best to never be seen as hesitating. It tended to put already nervous people off balance and gave you a chance to test the mettle of others. "Good evening. Dinner dates will have to wait another night, though I am flattered by the interest," and his voice was a soft, husky tenor, patterned with the RP accent that he had picked up and never quite dropped while studying English so long ago. He approached one of the empty tables close to Sawyer, pulling out a chair but waiting politely to sit down. Behind the glasses, his eyes kept tracing over the surroundings and the other man. "I do hope I haven't given you a start." |
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| Sawyer | Monday, 5. August 2013, 01:07 Post #6 |
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"Takes more than that to scare me," Sawyer said mildly. "You don't have nearly enough limbs in the wrong places for me to turn tail and run." If this guy was Sabbat, Sawyer reflected briefly, than this was an awfully friendly greeting. Was he a snake, maybe? He had the look of a Setite, but hell, Sawyer'd only seen one of 'em before, and he doubted one would have any interest in him. Camarilla? That'd be almost too lucky. Sawyer might've had an optimistic streak once upon a time, but those tendencies were off cowering in a corner somewhere after being abused once too often. He took a sip of coffee, mirroring Sakhr's body language just well enough to be a bit unnerving. Sawyer's smile was slightly mocking. "You do this a lot, buddy? Follow strangers around? Not that I'm objecting. But I didn't think folks this side of the pond were very friendly..." |
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| Sakhr | Monday, 5. August 2013, 01:35 Post #7 |
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"It's not the obvious monsters you have to watch for in these nights," he replied chidingly, declining to order any coffee of his own. Maintaining his good posture as he slid into the chair, he continued, "Though I suppose it's not very wise to take your eyes off them either." He mused over Sawyer as the American reflected on him. Possible Kindred, but he wasn't certain enough to risk a potential Masquerade breech. Not quite yet. As it was, there was a good chance that each's uncertainty to the nature of the other was what was keeping this impromptu meeting civil. "I follow people who are... out of place," Sakhr inclined his head slightly to the man across the table, "Deviations can be potential danger, as I am sure you understand. Particularly in troubled areas." He nodded again to the scarf and coat, "For the English, this weather is blistering." |
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| Sawyer | Monday, 5. August 2013, 01:59 Post #8 |
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Sawyer chuckled. "Blistering? Good thing I ain't English then, boss. Wonder what your first clue was about that, huh? But even if I stick out like a sore thumb, you don't seem too... 'in place' yourself," he drawled. He fixed the tall, slender man with a piercing look. "You wear those shades in the daytime too, buddy? Makes a guy wonder what's behind 'em." Restraint wasn't exactly in Sawyer's nature, and this was driving him crazy. Yeah, this fucker had to be Camarilla. Only a Cammie would talk in circles like this. Didn't grunt enough to be an Anarch. Couldn't be Brujah. Ventrue? Good thing I've got a mask on, he thought ruefully. A Ventrue wouldn't give me the time of day otherwise. "I'm no fan of these mind games, buddy. What are you doing here? I got a funny feeling that you're every bit as out of place as me, obviousness aside. I take it you don't make a habit of trailing every hapless tourist here... unless you do? Coyote following little lambs, huh? You wanna pass some enlightenment on, smart guy?" He made a clucking sound, one eyebrow raised, a smirk on his boyish features. Edited by Sawyer, Monday, 5. August 2013, 02:11.
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| Sakhr | Monday, 5. August 2013, 02:21 Post #9 |
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"When you first started talking," he answered blithely, "As for that, there is a decent sized Afro Caribbean population in east Enfield, so I don't stick out as badly as one might think, though I myself am not of that people. As for the sunglasses... A preference on my part. Nothing sinister about it. Though if it will put you at ease." Long fingers reached up to pluck the glasses away, serious dark eyes regarding Sawyer steadily. Another sudden and too quick wiry smile making him squint a little before he started to replace the glasses again. "Anticlimactic, I suppose, but it gets the point across, I think. As for what I am doing here, merely checking on old stomping grounds when you caught my attention. I've recently returned home from America myself, as it were.... Troubling times there, aren't there?" |
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| Sawyer | Monday, 5. August 2013, 02:34 Post #10 |
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Sawyer laughed. "Fashion statement, huh? Wouldn't peg you for the type. Got a flair for the dramatic, boss? Wonder what sort of companion's snuck up on me for the night..." He stood up abruptly, winding the scarf around his thick neck once again. "That's assuming you are my companion for the night. If you're gonna follow me, buddy, might as well take a walk together. You know these parts better than me." He glanced around Starbucks, taking a final sip of his coffee. "Don't think anybody in this little corporate shithole's gonna be more interesting company than you, anyhow." Sawyer's smile was more genuine this time, somehow. "Truth be told, them eyes are too serious. Lonely soul seekin' out a kindred one? I'm tired of sitting around here. Gotta be someone out looking for trouble besides us. Chin up, buddy boy." And with that, he left the coffeehouse, taking for granted that the other would follow. Probably should've asked him his name already, but you never could get a straight answer out of a Ventrue. But whoever this smooth little fucker was, he couldn't be much of a threat, and that left Sawyer with a weight off his shoulders. |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Monday, 5. August 2013, 17:58 Post #11 |
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Aguirre listening intently to the conversation being held between the two gentlemen. The bigger one was more interesting, but more specifically, it was his accent. What was with all the southerners coming to the UK nowadays? This would be the third she came in contact with in a short period of only a few months, and while they weren't exactly a rare breed, she hadn't come in contact with fellow Westerners like this since leaving Texas. The creep in the pink tie, Church.. and now--well, she didn't know his name yet. She would by the end of the night though, if she could help it. "Truth be told, them eyes are too serious. Lonely soul seekin' out a kindred one? I'm tired of sitting around here. Gotta be someone out looking for trouble besides us. Chin up, buddy boy." Kindred. He was southern, and kindred? It wasn't a sure thing, but she picked up on subtle hints as well as the next guy. But wait, he was getting ready to leave. Scarf. Heavy steps out. No way! She quickly wound her hair into a messy bun at the base of her neck and got up in a casual manner, throwing the half-full cup of coffee in the trash as she walked out the door, turning in the direction he had gone with her hands stashed in her pockets. The phrase 'curiosity killed the cat' had never phased her, and she obviously hadn't learned her lesson about following people whose business she shouldn't be sticking her nose into since her experience with Nora. Would the other guy follow? Maybe. Judging by the exchange, he was probably in the same undead boat. Aguirre had no interest in tagging along in the shadows. Instead, she walked quickly, loudly, as she didn't want to come off as a tail. As she caught up she realized they were nearly the same height, and though he did have a couple inches on her, it was easy enough to match his pace. She had a shit eating grin on her face; since hanging out with Damon the other night, she had taken to being a little more straightforward, which was probably the only reason she chose to follow the guy out in the first place. She walked with a relaxed posture, eyes down on her boots, bits of dark hair hanging down. "Stormin' out on your date so soon? Hoo-boy, he ain't gonna be pleased with you." Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Tuesday, 6. August 2013, 07:02.
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| Sakhr | Monday, 5. August 2013, 19:12 Post #12 |
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"I used to be a model," the thin man replied blandly enough that one couldn't be sure if he was joking or actually being serious, "You pick up a thing or two." His eyebrows raised over the glasses as Sawyer stood, eyes flicking around again to scan the room as Sawyer put on his scarf. The woman sitting close by with dark hair and pale skin, the one Sakhr mentally dubbed Matilda, was paying too much attention for his comfort. Beautiful cheek bones, slightly intent expression. Interesting. He turned his attention back to his erstwhile companion when he spoke again, "Well, if we are going to be traveling together, I suppose it is good manners to give a name. The name being Sakhr. Also, thank you for the compliment. I will just be one moment." He rose, walking towards the counter to order one of the little sweet treats they sold in such places. He wasn't one of those lucky Kindred that could hold down kine food but it gave him an excuse, the man leaning against the counter casually to watch Sawyer step out. Matilda was watching.... And there she went.... Interesting. Blonde brownie in hand, Sakhr followed slowly after the woman. He didn't bother to hide the fact he was following. If this was something planned for trouble, they had already made a mistake in walking out first. Either that or they were cleverer than he gave them credit for and there were others coming up behind him while he was distracted. Or it could very well be all innocent coincidence. Sixty six percent odds. He supposed there had been worse. The shared and uncommon accent between the two made him silently lower those odds though, his walk forced to remain casual despite unease. Eyes flicked to side streets, to low roofs, to the drunkards and revelers. "Hardly a date." |
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| Sawyer | Tuesday, 6. August 2013, 01:35 Post #13 |
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Even more drunks seemed to be emerging from the clubs down the street, hootin' and hollerin' like it was their lucky night. Easy prey, if Sawyer was so inclined, but he was hoping for more interesting quarry than that. In any case, feeding could wait until he was sure exactly who he was dealing with. "Stormin' out on your date so soon? Hoo-boy, he ain't gonna be pleased with you." A smile was playing on the corners of Sawyer's mouth before he'd even seen the voice's owner. As soon as he caught a glimpse of her, though, he was flat-out beaming. She was tall and stately, with an easy, careless grace that stood in contrast to Sakhr's rigid posture. Dark hair mussed just enough for it to look unintentional, dark eyes lit up with amusement. Definitely a looker, though a feral edge to her smile made him doubt that she was one of the pretty kine he'd wish might show up before. He was just attracting a parade of these model types, wasn't he? Sawyer just wanted to sit back and laugh at the ridiculousness of that. And the accent- Texan, if he wasn't mistaken, but with an edge that betrayed that she'd been in Britain a hell of a lot longer than he had. Made no difference; it was coincidence enough to find another southerner prowling the streets same as him. But Sawyer wasn't sure he really believe in coincidence anymore. Still, if he was gaining more stalkers, at least this one was direct about it. "Evenin', miss. And, uh, what he said. Seems my buddy here is pretty immune to my charms. Can't fault a guy for tryin'. After all, Sakhr made the first move, following me around. Did I say your name right, buddy? Mine's Sawyer." He was ninety percent sure those dark eyes must be rolling in disapproval behind the mirrored shades as he elbowed the slender probably-a-Ventrue affectionately. "What're you doing so far from home? Haven't heard a voice like that in a real long time. There many of us southerners wanderin' around... uh... wherever this is?" Edited by Sawyer, Friday, 9. August 2013, 01:11.
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Tuesday, 6. August 2013, 15:57 Post #14 |
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Aguirre was pretty well entertained with the reaction gathered from the man who had followed the other southerner to begin with. She had expected him to step out after them, considering the note on which Sawyer left their conversation moments ago. She tried to put the man's name in her head in a way she could understand--Sah-keer--but didn't want to say it, just in case she pronounced it the wrong way. It was rude to call someone by the wrong title. She turned to look at him with a teasing smile, making clear that she was only joking. "Aw, I'm only yankin' your chain. This guy over here thinks he has charm!" She chuckled, pointing her eyes back down to her boots. In response to Mark Twain's greatest work, she said, "I'm just livin', botherin' strangers. Y'know, normal Enfield stuff." He didn't know where he was? That was odd. "How long you been in town, Sawyer? I don't imagine Twain woulda ever wrote you here in London, but I might be mistaken. And you--" The Brujah referred to Sakhr again. "You from round here? I hate to tell you, but you got a bit of an accent, too." It was mostly meant to be humorous--she didn't want to leave him out, though he had gone quiet since leaving the cafe. This was originally his conversation, after all. She turned back to face the sidewalk in time to dodge a group of incoming drunks, though she may have bumped into her two counterparts in the process. Did these people ever go home? Jesus. Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Tuesday, 6. August 2013, 15:59.
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| Sawyer | Thursday, 8. August 2013, 23:03 Post #15 |
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Sawyer frowned in mock offense, his teasing tone matching her own. "Not charming? Well, I guess I've been called worse. Still hurts to hear it from someone as pretty as you." Truth be told, he was more impressed by her demeanor than anything else. Confident, blunt, but not unfriendly- here was a girl that could take care of herself. Good. Maybe she'd help him figure out what to do next, if she was, as he suspected, just as dead as the two men. He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. "You're spot on, though. Sakhr knows these parts pretty well, so I'm guessing he's been around for a while, but me? Well, I'm fresh off the boat. Still tryin' to figure out what in the hell 'normal Enfield stuff' really is. By the looks of you guys, it's trailing innocent newcomers until you can lure them into alleyways. Mind you, I'm not the easiest fella to mug, and I do rather like tradin' barbs with Sakhr here instead." The drunks jostled the three of them as the passed rambunctiously by, and Sawyer saw the girl's eyes narrow in annoyance. "Well, look at me monologuin' over here. Oops. Anyhow, what's your name?" |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Friday, 9. August 2013, 19:08 Post #16 |
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It seemed like southerners always had a penchant for making one another feel comfortable in one another's company, especially oversees; back home, you'd need more than just being from the vaguely outlined South to feel the kind of reminder of home that Aguirre did when the more friendly of her two counterparts spoke. She used to identify more with Texans of the Southeast variety, but when she made her way to London for school, within months she was happy just to find the company of another American. It wasn't anything against the locals--more a homesickness that left her feeling lonely. So here she was, considering how much of a treat it was that she should run into another person from her particular part of the homeland after such a recent encounter at the Dream. Her habit of buddying up with what was familiar wasn't an entirely subconscious effort anymore, either, not after three decades in the UK. At the mention of mugging him, the dark-haired woman tittered. That was funny, considering such activities were her consistent source of income. She could only imagine throwing down with this guy, though; he was bulky, not to mention her suspicion of his lack of pulse. The rowdy drunks out of the way now, she could fall back into a mildly relaxed slouch. "I wouldn't dream of muggin' you. You're too new to town! What kind of welcome wagon would that be?" she said, the smile across her lips still playing into her tone. She held a thin hand out in his direction as she went on to introduce herself. "Name's Aguirre, and I don't mind your talkin'. The more talkin' you do, the less chance I got to say somethin' awkward. So you dunno what you're doin' round here? Where're you lookin' to be? Surely you didn't show up in London without a destination in mind," a brief chuckle escaped her, but she was truly curious as to how he had gone about getting lost in Enfield of all places. He was lucky he hadn't wound up in Sabbat territory. Copper eyes hovered over him as she waited for a response. After all, it would be the right thing to do to point him in the right direction. |
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| Sakhr | Friday, 9. August 2013, 21:23 Post #17 |
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"Not born in London, but this borough was where I grew up. Indulging in nostalgia now that I have returned from overseas. Though it seems I can't escape you Americans either way." Eyebrows arched over the dark shades, the soft voiced man seeming content to watch the conversation between the other two. Southern accents were easy enough to follow, even if there was the occasional word that cropped up that left Sakhr puzzling over meaning and entomological origin. He had known a few back in New York, refugees from Sabbat attacks in the South. Which had told Sakhr a lot. Whenever the decades long battleground of New York was seen as the better option to non-Brujah, it spoke poorly of a particular situation. Sakhr adjusted the collar of his shirt again, fastidious in not showing a line or wrinkle it seemed. All the while though, he kept a close watch, still wary of the other two. This could be a trap and he wasn't planning to let his guard down despite the casual conversation. Better than him had been ashed thanks to gentle words and relaxed demeanors. And even if they weren't a threat, this was still not Camarilla territory in any case. He didn't make a noise when Aguirre started backing into him, stepping aside quickly as he gave her an expression that wasn't really much different than his regular one. Though the eyebrow quirk hinted to being unimpressed. Edited by Sakhr, Friday, 9. August 2013, 21:25.
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| Sawyer | Saturday, 10. August 2013, 03:51 Post #18 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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"It's a reverse invasion, buddy. Payin' y'all back for that 'colonies' thing," he said playfully. "But in all seriousness.... things got pretty bad in the new world; I'm sure you know that. I doubt we'll be the last newcomers you'll see." Sawyer turned to Aguirre and smiled blithely. "Actually, that's exactly what I did. No plan, no map, no clue. I've got a funny feelin' I wound up in the wrong place, but if y'all are any indication of the locals, I don't think I mind too much." He shrugged slightly. "Truth be told, the only place I really should be going is... down?" He nodded towards the pavement, raising an eyebrow. "But it seems I popped out somewhere I shouldn't have. Lucky I got a welcome from folks as nice as you. It might help if you let me know a few places in the city where the locals are a bit, uh, more bloodthirsty..." He checked his phone again. Still nothin' from the primogen. He tucked the cheap Nokia back into his jacket pocket with a groan. "Aaaaand it looks like I'm free for a while. I turn into a pumpkin when the sun rises, though, so maybe y'all can give me a tour of the neighborhood before this Cinderella has to disappear? Maybe find somewhere to get a drink a little stronger than coffee?" |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Saturday, 10. August 2013, 19:10 Post #19 |
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Mouse
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Sakhr didn't seem to be particularly enthused by their company--although maybe it was just hers. She had sort of.. Well, perhaps purposely, but not with ill intent, pushed her way in to what was probably a closed conversation without an invitation. She didn't so much care what the proper man thought, but it always bothered her to make a bad impression, and might have shown in her features as she started to think about it; had she known the man's clan, she might have been significantly more bothered and more polite, though that was mostly based on a false sense of family she tended to hold for Rabble. At least Sawyer tried to cut through was was more than likely imaginary tension. He treated the situation with a joke the way she found herself doing every time she got uncomfortable. The bigger man spoke again in response to her somewhat sarcastic questions. The tone was one that her mother always took when she thought Aguirre and her brothers were doing something moronic or ridiculous, which wasn't on purpose by any means. Shit, now she was getting nervous about how the other two might take accidental undertones. Hopefully she hadn't sounded like an asshole right off the bat. Getting on the wrong side of her counterparts, either one of them, would be unfortunate. Considering how few connections she actually had throughout the city, she couldn't afford to start pissing people off. Then again, with the distinct possibility that she was over thinking the whole conversation, it was more likely that these subtle things were just that--subtle. The next hint Sawyer dropped was anything but subtle, but the dark haired woman appreciated such forward honesty. He seemed to already suspect they all shared the same curse. Hell, she was like a baby in the woods, wasn't she? Then again, she hadn't necessarily made much of an effort to conceal her condition, not that she was flaunting it or anything. This conversation was bordering on punny there were so many little double-sided words buzzing around her ears. It was fun to listen to such silly humor. Aguirre studied the little brick of a phone for the brief moment the Nosferatu pulled it from his pocket. Poor little thing looked like it was about ready to retire. Maybe it was an indicator of the man's age to still be using such old equipment? If it didn't suit her better to fit in with the generation she looked as though she was a part of, she probably would have lost touch with current technological trends when they came out with radiation-heavy mobiles in the 80's. Besides, Nokias were... pretty in with the hipster crowd? At the mention of maybe visiting a bar, Aguirre automatically thought of the Tripper--though her anxiety surfacing again made her uncertain that their friend in turquoise would appreciate such a dive. He seemed like a man with more refined tastes. She shrugged; honestly, as long as it took the tension away, she was fine to go anywhere. She could really have used a sidecar at the moment, anyway. The sternness portrayed by the man reminded her too much of her father for it not to be unsettling. She looked sideways at him, saying, "I dunno. You're from here, Sakhr, what do you think? I'm more than happy to tag along wherever y'all wanna go." Not only did she deflect the decision, but she also tried to include the sharply angled man. His man-of-few-words act was splitting her nerves. Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Saturday, 10. August 2013, 19:50.
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| Sakhr | Sunday, 11. August 2013, 18:08 Post #20 |
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Childe
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"I might be from here but I haven't actually been here for over twenty years. Unfortunately the realm of New York City has become... a bit less hospitable lately. It's become a common condition in America. My main concerns have been studying the areas more dangerous to the more order inclined, not where the best bars are." He stayed behind the two, walking casually as he spoke, "The east. That is where most of the danger comes from. Though there have been a few attempts into Enfield. I would recommend staying out of Grove Ward too. My brothers and sisters have claimed it and we are rough sorts when it comes to keeping claim on what's ours. Unless, of course, you are a brother or sister." Sakhr's lips turned in faint bemusement. He hadn't spoken this much in a long time. He wasn't the teacher sort. Nor one for training the new blood or telling newcomers where not to go. He had to learn the hard way and he wasn't quite convinced that painful experience wasn't the best teacher. If it wasn't, it certainly was a very good motivator. But he himself was on changed ground. Shifting territories and politics had made London's underground a very different place from the one of his youth and the kine had changed right along with it. He would need allies. Information. For all his loner tendencies, Sakhr was also very aware that he never would have survived on his own in New York. So if he could make nice now, he might be able to start establishing a network. |
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2:01 AM Jul 11