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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: |
| The Good, the Bad, the Ugly; [Sawyer, Church] | |
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| Topic Started: Friday, 13. September 2013, 20:51 (3,121 Views) | |
| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Friday, 13. September 2013, 20:51 Post #1 |
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Tonight was the night--despite Aguirre's guilt for leaving Frankie hurt and angry, she was getting the fuck out of that apartment for the first time in three decades, at least in a more permanent sense. The more she thought about it, the more it felt to her like a good idea, a great idea in fact. As such, she was in a fantastic mood compared to her usual broody, quiet self. She and her Nosferatu counterpart walked down the side walk, a bit of a spring in her boot falls; within their grasp were the last two boxes, full to the brim with wall hangings, cords to her computer, boxes full of old photographs, and most importantly--what was left of her book collection. She had kept only her very favorites, leaving the rest behind for Frankie whether she liked it or not. The Brujah had started without Sawyer due to a lack of patience, as well as having figured that Church might want a heads up that someone was helping her move; he had told her that if she informed anyone of where he lived he would have to kill her, but she wasn't ash yet! She considered this a good sign. Right? Either way, she was on her way now, Sawyer in tow. He had shown up just in time to not have to do anything, which didn't bother her any considering she was fairly thorough about how she organized her things and the order in which she took them the new residence. Furniture first (in pieces separated into labeled boxes), fragile items, then everything else. She hadn't actually expected him to show up at all, considering this moving business wasn't his responsibility. That in mind, she threw her gaze to the Nosferatu with a beaming grin, saying with a light tone, "Thanks again for helpin' me out. I mean, it's just one box, but it's the last box. 'Sides, you did wanna meet Damon." They were already closing in on the stairs that led up the to entrance--she didn't yet have a key to the door, so she carefully set down her box at the foot of the cement steps and pulled out her phone, tapping out a text excitedly. @Damon Church Hey, I'm back. My friend showed up, too, I hope you don't mind. This is the last run I swear! Hopefully Damon wasn't too annoyed yet. Running up and down six flights of stairs had to be obnoxious to say the least. Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Friday, 13. September 2013, 20:58.
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| Sawyer | Saturday, 14. September 2013, 05:34 Post #2 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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Sawyer certainly had meant to be more of a help in the moving process; after tagging around after Aguirre like an annoying puppy, he'd hoped to actually be able to do something nice for her for a change. Of course, he'd also ended up in a viciously tense game of Texas hold 'em with Lazy-Eye Billy, who had proceeded to beat him miserably, take his money, and insult his mother. Lazy-Eye Billy, on the other hand, was now missing at least one tooth. That entire affair had taken longer than Sawyer would've liked, but he assumed Aguirre could forgive yet another slight. When he'd finally showed up, it seemed like Aguirre had finished most of the job herself. He helped her move the remaining boxes cheerfully, marveling particularly at the amount of books the girl had. Thirty years of reading material was, apparently, quite a lot, especially considering the amount she was leaving behind for Frankie. The little apartment looked much bigger devoid of furniture and clutter, and Sawyer could tell that this was a big, exciting step for Aguirre. Movin' past the past, or somethin' like that. "Sorry I couldn't be here earlier," he said with a sheepish shrug. "But, hell, I gotta make sure my sister ain't movin' in with some ax murderer, right?" Truth was, Sawyer was incredibly curious about this Damon fella that Aguirre had been so tight-lipped about. He wondered for a moment what 'not crazy enough for him' really implied. He waited patiently as she texted the guy, presumably looking for someone to let him in. He'd have the chance to evaluate him up close and personal soon enough. "And if this don't work out," he said with narrowed eyes and a teasing smile, "I'm sure lil' Agu would love to keep you company." |
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| Church | Saturday, 14. September 2013, 15:49 Post #3 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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The end is nigh. I survey what was once an dilapidated apartment, wondering how many boxes the girl had. I run my hands through my hair, no doubt leaving a mess in their wake, as I struggle to predict what needs to go where. It didn't look like the same place, and I got a feeling she has bigger plans of renovation. Which is cool. I grab another box and, after shaking it curiously next to my ear and, when satisfied there is nothing fragile inside, slide it down the corridor to her new room. So many fucking books, it makes me wonder how she had managed in her old place which was apparently petite by comparison. Not that the past matters now. I've had a smile stuck on my face most of the night, or at least when I've had private moments like now. I can feel my mouth ache from it. I still can't believe how luck I've got with this one. "Were you gonna die alone?" I look at the TV, with Clint's rugged features plastered across it. I foolishly invested in a wafer thing plasma super...built by high definition robots in Japan shit. What I didn't realise was how much I would have it on, quietly on in the background just to create some sad illusion of company until she's officially here. "Maybe I was Blondie." I mutter at the TV, trying to peak into a slightly disgruntled box before my phone pings an interruption. Finally, I light up at the prospect that this is the last one. With a friend no less. Boy that was...interesting. Could be great. Could be a bloodbath. Such is life as a member of the crazed dead. Regardless, I leave with a spring in my step, practically jumping lengths of stairs in order to get the monotonous journey over with a little bit quicker. I clatter to the bottom, cursing the elevator under my breath for being such a dick. I click the latch and wrench the door wide open. Despite seeing her several times already, it's still a delight. "You promise, sugar? I'm starting to get-" I stop mid sentance, noticing the large box that seemingly had two people escort it. Its freakin huge. And here I thought I was gonna be able to finish my movie. "Last one? You freakin' promise?" I sound annoyed, but there is clearly something teasy and pleased that she's back in my face and voice. "Well at least there'll be some room left. Even if me an' you gotta sleep in the bath." I take a step down, holding the door wide whilst I give the stranger a once over, not a face I recognise from the Sabbat or the Anarchs. Which I suppose is a good sign, I'd rather it be someone I hadn't managed to fuck off. And being drug free, I ain't got the frightened whispers in the back of my head telling me that its kill or be killed. "An' who might you be partner?" I ask as politely as one can, but my heart is calm in the knowledge that a friend of Aguirre's must be a good person. Or taking advantage of her, which, if is something I discover, would end very badly for them. I smile at him, for Aguirre's sake more than anything, gesturing to them both. "Come on in." |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Saturday, 14. September 2013, 18:56 Post #4 |
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"Oh, so is all that 'sister' business stickin' around then?" Aguirre teased, though flattered to hear his concern. It was nice of him to celebrate the move in with her, even if it was mostly out of curiosity that he'd really chosen to be there. She was a little nervous about how her two closest compadres would react to one another--and how hard Sawyer would try to embarrass her in front of her mentor. She had anticipated just how horribly this could go (for her) should the opportunity arise for the Nosferatu to share information she would have otherwise never, ever spoken of. She hadn't actually told Damon about how Fight Night went, nor had she told him about that night in Brent--though the second one was mostly due to embarrassment and Nora. Pride be damned, though, because here they were. She could only hope that she would be shown some measure of mercy by the brother figure who carried the last of her belongings. At the mention of Agustin's 'crush', which she was almost sure he had made up just to have something to pick on her for, Sawyer garnered a sideways glance and an eye roll. Aguirre's bright expression was back as soon as Church appeared in the entrance; despite the pseudo-annoyance in his voice, he was obviously in a good mood. She was afraid before that he wouldn't be so happy about a visitor, and so could breathe some relief when he took her counterpart in so easily. As he directed his question at Sawyer, she realized that she hadn't even introduced them. Already botchin' the social cues.. Yeesh. As she picked up her box and made her way up the stairs, throwing him an excited grin as she offered them a short but proper introduction. "This my buddy Sawyer. Sawyer, this is Church." With that, she disappeared into the building, leading the way up the echoing stairwell in a quicker pace than was probably necessary. She was ecstatic to be there, and wasn't doing anything to hide that fact. She really wanted to get everything set up, or maybe get her bed put back together before sunrise, at the very least. Upon making it to floor six and pushing through the door leading into their hallway, she shifted her box so that it sat awkwardly under one arm and turned the knob leading into Church's--and now her own apartment. It was still kind of messy because of her belongings, but it looked like her new roommate had already pushed some of them back into her room. He'd been watching old Clint Eastwood flicks while she was away--which was something Aguirre could very much enjoy. She'd probably end up roping him into a Die Hard marathon, though, after she'd settled in somewhat. "Alright! This is officially home sweet home!" she said, setting down her box while optimism colored her speech. |
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| Sawyer | Sunday, 15. September 2013, 06:25 Post #5 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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So this was the fabled Damon Church. The guy was Sawyer's size, a real linebacker type covered in tattoos, unmistakably Brujah. In spite of appearances, though, he certainly seemed friendly enough, and his distinctive southern drawl sounded so much like home. He wondered with a bit of chagrin how Aguirre had managed to stumble on this one; Mouse Maddox certainly lived up to her name when she stood next to the towering Church. Sawyer offered him a hand and a friendly smile. "Hey, man! Sawyer Flint. Good to finally meet ya." The two of them trailed Aguirre up the stairs until they reached Church's flat on the sixth floor. Inside, boxes were stacked haphazardly all over the place, yet to be unpacked, and he couldn't help but feel vaguely guilty that he hadn't showed up to help earlier. "Nice place," Sawyer said, setting the box he carried down on the floor near Aguirre's. The apartment was rather empty, sure, but it was nothing short of palatial compared to the warrens. He glanced around, eyes lighting up when he saw what was playing on the television. "Shit, Clint Eastwood? Man, I wanted to be Clint Eastwood so bad as a kid. I stole my mamaw's laundry one time so I could make a poncho like that outta one of her blankets. She didn't find it nearly as cool as I did, 'specially not when she figured out I'd cut a hole in it... And then there was that time I thought it'd be a real good idea to reenact that 'shootin' the noose off' scene with my brother and an air rifle..." Sawyer grinned sheepishly at the thought, shaking his head slightly. "Shoot, man, where're you from? You're makin' me all nostalgic. I had no idea there were this many Southerners runnin' around London!" |
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| Church | Sunday, 15. September 2013, 17:46 Post #6 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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"Damon. Likewise." I smile, taking his hand and giving it a quick shake before letting him step through the doors. Seems enthusiastic enough, and while Aguirre ain't mentioned him to me I certainly seem to be known to him. Nothing bad I hope, and I certainly hope the contents of that evening have remained a mystery. I wish it was to me. I keep my mouth shut scaling the stairs, chewing the matter over as Aguirre leads the way up to the open door. I am not overly crazy about inviting a complete stranger in. I'll be as trusting as I can right about now. We step through the threshold, I gently shut the door behind as Aguirre lays her burden down and announces that old cliché. Something that makes my smile even brighter, just knowing that she's finally here and happy to be so. I watch her doing so until the third southerner starts to ramble about Clint Eastwood. Such childhood memories are things I can't pull out at will, nor would I choose to. Hell, I can't remember doing anything but work from a young age, entertainment was sneaking out at night with Jessica and going star gazing. But at least he's open, even if it's to a fault. Much like Aguirre. Much like myself. Maybe it's a southern thing? "Sure sounds like fun." when isn't hanging a brother? Well considering I was an only child, and my experiences of brotherhood stem solely from the Sabbat, yes it is always fun. "Can' say I saw an awful lot of flicks as a kid. Then again, I was a man by 'time Clint was getting big." It's difficult to gauge an individual and their upbringing, primarily due to the whole immortality thing. I can guess I've got a few years on this Sawyer fella, though I think Clint's got a few years on me still. Wait. Why does that matter? "Oh, London's got jus' about everythin' and everyone. Seem to be less of the locals every goddamn day. Me?I was born in South Carolina. An' despite living there near twenty years, I'd say that Georgia had more a hand in my upbringing." Running around causing commotion with Jack sure was more educational than being a robot working the farm sixteen hours a day. Jack, Jack is someone I really shouldn't think about. I wish Aguirre had given me something of a heads up on this guy, not knowing him from Adam was the problem I had with her before. And yeah I can trust her to get chummy with the right people an' all, but I can't trust evil fuckers taking advantage of her good nature. I'm hoping my new compadre is thinking the same thing about me, cause at least then we're both unintentionally on the same page, looking out for the little lady of our lives. "Where you from? I mean, you two know each other from back home or...summit?" The 'summit' I leave hanging, not exactly sure what this relationship here is. The way he rambled, he could be family. I also seem to be picking up puppy dog vibes, I can imagine him chasing Aguirre around like a lovestruck dummy. But what the hell, he's playing nice. "So I figure we better start...well...organisin' at least." I shake my head at the mountain of boxes, and how much my collection pales in comparison. I look at Aguirre and shake my head, a smirk of disbelief painted on. "It'll give you a chance to tell me all about yourself now won't it?" My eyes flit to Sawyer, the smile dims somewhat. "A friend of Aguirre's a friend of mine. But only so much as I can trust 'em. So c'mon, spill the beans. "Who are yah Sawyer?" |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Monday, 16. September 2013, 06:12 Post #7 |
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Aguirre's lips were set in a smile as Sawyer reminisced about his reenactment with Huck as a kid; for as little as she sometimes spoke, right now being one of those times while she set her focus on trying to pry her boots off her feet, he certainly did a good job of filling the gaps where silence would have otherwise staked claim. After finally freeing herself of shoes, she set them near the door, wondering if any of the varying stacks of boxes actually had a place in the front room. Normally in a roommate situation, she would try to fit as much as was physically possible into her own quarters; she didn't want to take up any more space than was allotted to her. However, considering that all Damon owned was a couch, an incredibly expensive-looking television, and an incomplete dining set, she wasn't so sure he wanted any part in filling all the empty space. This in mind, she pulled her hair into a knot and looked over the mess in a slightly overwhelmed fashion. Sure, all this stuff had a place, but where? How had she even accumulated it? She'd have to get this sorted out before she could even think about working on her room. So much for getting her bed put together; at this rate, they'd get half way through deciding where to put everything and it'd be sunrise. Aguirre would end up crashing on the couch before she found a home for each box. She heard the boys talking in the background, and when Church asked how they knew each other, her attention came back around to them. Man, she felt short standing by those two, and she was almost six foot tall herself. One couldn't complain about having intimidating friends to keep them company, though. "Naw, he's from Alabama; we met when he got into town a while back. We kept runnin' into each other 'cause we got some friends in common, like at that party in Hounslow, ha... We cut the power to this house and convinced this little ghoul we know to scream like he was bein' murdered, haha, and all these kids come runnin' out and trippin' all over themselves like it was the end of the world! I almost died laughin'." She would have mentioned more, like the fact that Dove was sloshed and hitting on Sawyer the entire time, but the memory alone made her giggle like an idiot. Then the mention of organizing--oh yeah. That was going to be wonderful. Half of the boxes scattered about were the remnants of her book collection, and the rest... Knick knacks, notebooks, computer parts, posters... Name a random object, and you'd probably find it, provided you had the patience to look. Despite these thoughts crossing her mind, she returned Church's playful disbelief with a bright grin, a smart ass move on her part. He turned his gaze back to Sawyer, though, coming off a whole lot like he wanted to sit him at a table with a bright lamp and interrogate him. Her brow arched slightly and her hands fell to her hips. She probably should have anticipated this, as well; if there were a contest for the Most Paranoid Brujah in London, Damon would win it by a long shot. "Hey now, we can all share our life stories after we got some of this shit out of the way, can't we? Pick a box and dig, I ain't got nothin' to hide. Electronics go back to my room, books too.. The rest I s'pose we'll figure out as we go." Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Monday, 16. September 2013, 06:36.
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| Sawyer | Tuesday, 17. September 2013, 00:13 Post #8 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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Sawyer could only stand and grin as Aguirre quickly answered Church's question on his behalf. Who was he? Well, he supposed he was whoever she said he was. He listened patiently as Aguirre told her new roommate about their now-infamous prank. It was convenient that she'd taken it upon herself to vouch for him, as he wasn't exactly sure how he would've answered the question in the first place. He was, he reflected, never a very good liar. Just rather adept at not mentioning the truth. "Yeah, I'm just some stray that started followin' her around," he said cheerfully. Really, that was the easiest explanation, wasn't it? For a time, he'd wondered whether Aguirre was intentionally tailing him, but after a while, he'd just come to accept it as serendipity. He was reasonably sure she didn't mind, either. "But me an' Aguirre, we've got history now! Did she tell you 'bout the time me and her broke into this house in Chelsea, thinkin' we'd do a lil' redistribution of goods, only turns out that whoever lived there was still home, so this crazy lady comes screamin' out of the kitchen, swingin' a frying pan right at Aguirre's hea-" "Sawyer." "Okay, okay, I'll shut up." He busied himself with unpacking Aguirre's things, lifting piles of heavy textbooks out of the nearest box only to discover a six-disk collector's edition box set of the Die Hard movies hidden beneath them. Huh, she really was a fan, even if she hadn't ever gotten around to demolishing the high score on that pinball machine. He chuckled slightly, stacking them on top of the rest and gathering all of it up in his arms. Brushing past her in the doorway to her room, he leaned and whispered rather conspiratorially, "Y'know, I've got Hollywood connections. Could probably getcha Bruce Willis' number if you get tired of this guy, hm?" Nimbly, he ducked away before Aguirre could aim any retaliating blow in his direction or throw whatever she was holding in his general direction. Hell, he'd come to expect getting hit by something whenever they hung out, and it was better to be safe than sorry, right? He set the books down on the floor- the room was still pretty much devoid of furniture, and it looked like it'd be a little while before you could really call it cozy. "You lived here long, man?" Sawyer asked curiously as he emerged from the bedroom, glancing around. The couch and Clint Eastwood seemed to be the only permanent decoration in the place. "Looks like you've got some movin' in to do too, huh?" Kneeling, he started to rifle through the contents of a second box. More books? Really? He hoped desperately he hadn't gotten stuck between two intellectual types that would talk over his head for the rest of the night; at least Damon didn't look that part. |
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| Church | Tuesday, 17. September 2013, 19:46 Post #9 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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My eyes are cemented to the back of his head until he walks out the room, only then do I return my gaze to Eastwood, a faintly satisfied look on my face. I'm figuring she told him a little something, and it's not as worrying as it should be. The stories that they recount make me giggle inside, not the kind of fun I am privy too and certainly not what I figured the Mouse got up to in her free time. Hell they make a cute couple. And he really is a stray that got shown some love and followed ever since. But hell, ain't that what I am? I cock a head at the TV as Angel Eyes says something despicable, doing some top class, albeit unintentional, slacking off. I know I'm not one to judge, but I can still want to know that my friend and I are in good company. The newcomer breaks my thought process as he re-emerges from the room, my dull gaze meaning shit with my brain so switched on. I look around and give a genuine grin. "That obvious huh? But seein' all these boxes, I'd say it's meant to be." I shrug at the reasonable assumption, "I ain't been here long but I managed to get all my worldly possessions into one big ass box." Most of which has stayed in said big ass box. All highly illegal and in desperate need of unloading so I can start a clean slate for sure. The room brightens up, so I know Aguirre is coming on back in (thats what they say about wonderful people right?) Sawyers ass didn't have the same effect, but what can you do? "But no. I ain't been here long, not really. Never did stay still, though now is a good time to start. Though this is something new and terrifying." I point at where the floor used to be and shoot her another amused look of false disapproval. "If you don't make it Sawyer, I'll make sure you're buried at sea or summit." I mutter, saluting his bravery. If he does, maybe I'll give him a medal, such chaos I look down as is deserving of one. I stoop down and open the flaps of the box, peering inside. My face compresses into confusion as I shift the contents around. "I never figured you as the 'erotic novel' type." I declare with deadly seriousness, picking out what looks to be a short book of shorter stories. I flick through the pages with a fluttering interest then lay it back down and shut the lid back up. We're gonna need some, lots, of bookcases. Hell it'll fill space, all the while creating it. Wooden paradoxes I tells ya. I lift the box up with the same face of contemplation worn, as if I'm pondering the mysteries of the universe. I glance around the knee deep tide of packaging as I make my way to her room. "So when we met up that night...and I asked you to move in...was that your apartment?" That library seemed small compared to this load, although admittedly it might be due to the fact that I have to help unload it all. I shrug and make my way down the hall. |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Tuesday, 17. September 2013, 23:30 Post #10 |
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"Y'know, I've got Hollywood connections. Could probably getcha Bruce Willis' number if you get tired of this guy, hm?" Aguirre would have slapped him upside the head, had he not anticipated it and run away like a little girl. She grabbed another box--her monitor, extra tower parts--and followed him back to her room, and while she did contemplate chucking her spare hard drive at his head, she figured a terabyte's worth of storage was worth more in one piece that it was shattering against the Nosferatu's over-sized head; so it stayed in the box and she instead stared daggers at his back as he left her room. She set it all down near the box where her desk parts were stashed. There wasn't any use in removing everything until she had the desk put back together, anyway. She heard Sawyer comment on how empty the place was, thinking, Thanks, Captain Obvious! in a begrudgingly endearing way. The Brujah was greeted on her way back out by Church pointing at her things and giving her a goofy accusatory expression; the offer to give Sawyer a proper burial made her laugh despite trying like hell not to, painting her soft features with amusement. She went around to the boxes, checking the handwritten labels and double checking each carton to make sure she'd labeled them correctly, which, for the most part, she realized she hadn't. After pushing some of the more miscellaneous objects aside to be dealt with later, she shot Damon an embarrassed look of indignance as he flipped through the pages of what was admittedly a pretty raunchy book of short horror stories. Still, she felt the need to protest after him, blush coming to her cheeks. "That ain't an erotic novel! It's just.. Candid. A kid I knew wrote years ago, back when we were in school." Another jab at the collection as he walked away, and as much as she wished Raven Used Books was her former residence, it very much was not. Had he gotten a chance to see the old flat, he might have cringed at how crowded it was. She pushed another box aside, digging into one that contained a pretty decent old sound system, one she may or may not have stolen from the trunk of a Kine's car a few years ago. She lifted the heavy thing out of the box easily and went about plugging it into the wall and connecting the speakers to the appropriate jacks just to see if she could remember how. Beneath the books in Sawyer's carton, he found a shoe box full to the brim with Polaroids, presumably from her university days. She might have taken it from him, had she noticed, though there wasn't anything particularly revealing within--mostly before and after shots of the many violent shows and protests she went to in her adolescence, proof that she made it out of them alive, among other things. Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Wednesday, 18. September 2013, 07:00.
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| Sawyer | Wednesday, 18. September 2013, 05:01 Post #11 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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"Glad to know somebody would mourn my passin'!" Sawyer chirped merrily as he pulled books out of the nearest cardboard box and stacked them nearby. "She'd probably just throw me back into the sewers and call it even." While the other two discussed Aguirre's choice of smut, his attention was immediately caught by a treasure trove of dirt on his friend, conveniently left beneath the books. "Oh," Sawyer said, breaking into a grin as he pawed through the glossy, candid photos and extracted one, holding it up in reverence. "Oh, wow. Y'know, I take back whatever I've said in the past- you really are Brujah, Aguirre! Here, take a look at this shit, Damon." He passed the other man the photo, starring Aguirre fuckin' Maddox with a massive nosebleed dripping down her face, grinnin' and gore-splattered like Boudica, fist in the air with some fucker sprawled on the ground behind her, knocked out cold. And by no means was that glorious snapshot alone. Elsewhere in the stack of pictures, Aguirre smashed a 40 oz into someone's skull, fought her way into the center of a circle pit, posed in handcuffs as she was led away from a public protest. Interspersed between the more interesting shots were blurry photos of various bands, sepia-toned selfies, and casual shots of college friends, all of them possessing very, very big hair. "Hey, Xena Warrior Princess, I thought you said you weren't into fist fights? Here I was thinkin' I was the first poor bastard you'd beaten this shit out of.. silly Sawyer, right?" He chuckled, thinking that she must have been very interesting company back then, to say the least. He gathered the rest of the box's contents up into his arms for a second trip to the back bedroom. "Y'know, you've got an awful lot of books and no bookshelves in sight. You gonna rectify that before you bury poor Church here in a landslide of, uh, knowledge?" Rectifying it, Sawyer knew, had a very specific course of action. And the more yuppies they successfully ripped off, the better they were getting at this 'partners-in-actual-crime' thing. Whether that could extend to carrying away whole sets of furniture had yet to be seen! |
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| Church | Thursday, 19. September 2013, 21:35 Post #12 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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I set the box down and glance over my shoulder. I open the lid once again and pull from the box the same little book. But this time I keep it in my hand, retracing my steps down that corridor. I take a moment to pause at the bathroom, put the book on top of the toilet before turning heel back out. The large shimmering orb in front of the mirror catches my attention, and I take it in my hand. "I almost forgot 'bout this." I mutter re-entering the room, from one hand to the other with a slight rattle. I don't know why I thought of it, but this right here is gonna be a very important bit of kit. It's our jar. It's pretty hefty, could probably do some damage, and the bottom is stuffed with bills. "You familiar with the concept of a douchebag jar?" I lift the jar for closer inspection, and weigh it with a certain thoughtfulness. "You're a douche, you pu' money in. I already made a substantial donation for reasons tha' don' need explaining.." I shake the jar and reveal the lonely and loose penny that noisily tickers around. Douchebag jar. I take a step before frowning, realising that there is actually no where to put this. Despite how full of crap she may make this place, it'll still be empty, just a messy empty. I scratch my head, contemplating the five chairs around the dining table. Where'd the sixth one go? I'm sure there's still some of it scattered around. Anyway, something Sawyer said suddenly clicked. Did he say she beat the shit out of him? "Whassa' chief? She beat the shit out of you?" The picture had been strange enough to see, but when she was a mortal who knows. It was her blooding that led her into this eternal guilt trip, and made her the mouse she is today. It's good to know there's fire in those veins from our shared lineage. "Well ain't that somethin'." I mutter, eyeing Aguirre with suspicion. Maybe she's actually a lunatic with a soft spot only for me. "Unless you mean..." I stop before I let it slip out. I don't think talk of S&M is proper etiquette upon making a new acquaintance. Unless it seems all too obvious. So I button my lip and act like I never said anything, though my ears pick up on his question. "Good point. I'm pretty sure tha's a cupboard over there but I would definitely say that I am underprepared." I stride across the room whilst talking, wrenching open a door opposite the front, situated inbetween what is now our rooms. I wonder how much crap we can fit Oh my goodness. How did I forget I had a kitchen? I seriously need to see shrink, or a brain surgeon. Or maybe I thought it was a cupboard and went no further. Being a dumbass and being deranged are two separate things. "Well...not like we gonna put much in there. Unless you wanna move in too Sawyer, sleep in the fridge?" I pose it genuinely, almost a real question, cause frankly what the hell use is it gonna have? "I could start cookin' up meth or summit?" I shrug. Well shit. Oh wait, boxes. Let's get these boxes away so I can watch my shows! I get to the nearest box and pop the lid, doesn't seem like this one is books. Perhaps some light conversation? "So, where about do ya live" And by virtue, who are you allied with. What flavour of freak are you? What flavour of freak do you like? I'm still curious about the stranger in the room, especially when I know exactly what he is but none of the intangibles that come with it. And those can get me in trouble. |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Friday, 20. September 2013, 03:40 Post #13 |
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Mouse
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"Douchebag jar, huh? Sounds interestin'. I gotta put anythin' in there if I curse? Maybe a quarter? 'Cause you'd yield quite a profit in quarters were that the case." It reminded her of the swear jar her mother had set up when Marcus taught Aguirre and her two younger siblings how to curse. Orwell, he'd been the only one to ever actually drop any change into it, and she'd stolen that to go to the penny candy store. Then again, she'd also been roundabout ten years old. She got the general idea, though; it was another buffer against the inevitable apologies that would leak from one roommate to the other. Don't say 'sorry'. Just put your money in the jar and acknowledge that you made a mistake. I get it. What would they even do with it's contents? The thing would be full before the month was over. Aguirre imaged filling jar after jar with money they weren't going to use. Maybe they could put it toward some board games? She would have killed for a good game of Trivial Pursuit. The Brujah's eyes drew away from Church as Sawyer apparently found something which struck his interest in a big way. Jesus. That box? Why that box? Where the fuck did that even come from? Why that picture in particular? She was mortified, especially as Damon set his eyes on the old Polaroid with a look of surprise. Why even take me on if you don't think I'm capable? Then again, she knew how she came off. Who would want to bet money on that horse, anyway? She drew inward slightly, giving Sawyer a look of discomfort and shifting her gaze away to the floor entirely when the older Brujah gave her what looked to be an expression of suspicious puzzlement. She moved on to another box with her eyes focused only on that as she responded to Sawyer in a flat tone, "I ain't into fist fights, and when I kicked your sorry ass, you deserved it. S'what you get for puttin' me in front of a crowd and offerin' me a free shot right at your fuckin' head." Free shots. Arrogant bastards, both of them, despite how fond she was of them both; it made her blood boil under the surface to think that they assumed her so harmless. Sure, she didn't exactly try to play on intimidation. Sure, she caved in on herself like a child the last time she saw Damon, but she could put a real hurtin' on somebody if they gave her a good reason to. Inwardly her beast tugged at her sleeve, encouraged her to throw another punch at one of them since it clearly hadn't been effective the first time, but she swallowed that ugly bitterness like a lump of stale bread. Maybe it was good that nosey Nosferatu found her mosh pit photos. It was about damn time that someone saw who she used to be. "Y'know, you've got an awful lot of books and no book shelves in sight. You gonna rectify that before you bury poor Church here in a landslide of, uh, knowledge?" "Good point. I'm pretty sure tha's a cupboard over there but I would definitely say that I am underprepared. Underprepared. It wasn't his fault that most of these books had a home beneath her bed for close to thirty years. And in the kitchen cupboards. And the fridge. The old place just didn't have any spare room for shelving. Cooking up meth sounded awful, and having Sawyer live in the kitchen? Worse, if only because of how uncomfortable sleeping in the fridge sounded. That and the possibility of having him pop out and scare her shitless every night. Aguirre let the other two talk; they were learning as much, probably more, than they needed to know by going through her things. They didn't need her narrative, too. She contemplated the book shelf situation, or lack thereof. Sawyer was well aware of her methods of procuring items when she needed them, but in this instance, was it really practical to carry large pieces of furniture out of houses with no escape vehicle? She had enough money to buy shelves, but that was no fun, and she would have rather put her money towards spoiling Dove with junk food or getting something worthwhile for her new roommate; perhaps even finding something to liven Sawyer's room in the Warrens up. She brushed over options in her mind for a moment more before something brilliant struck her. A grin spread across her lips and she waited for a lapse in conversation before suggesting a 'fun' activity for the night; anything to get away from the sea of boxes. She stood up, stretching her arms over her head, hoping they would go along with the idea. She new that at least the Nosferatu would agree to some trouble making. "Listen, y'all. I got a solution to the shelvin' problem. Interested in a little field trip?" Such a field trip would involve the trespassing of a construction area, one she knew wasn't far away at all. With the supplies gathered there, they could build some fairly sturdy shelves of their own. Hell, maybe they could even get some tools out of the deal, though she didn't exactly need them. Maybe she wasn't a very good Brujah, but her daddy hadn't sent her out into the world without teaching her how to improvise. Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Friday, 20. September 2013, 04:08.
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| Sawyer | Friday, 20. September 2013, 05:36 Post #14 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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Huh, with that single question, Church appeared to be walking the line between friendly inquiry and mild interrogation. Sawyer got the impression that 'Where do you live?' was just a surrogate for a whole host of more prying questions- ones Sawyer really wasn't keen on answering. All the same, no harm in letting Church know he had a sewer rat chilling out in his nice apartment. After all, a friend of a friend was always a friend in Sawyer's mind, and he got the impression that he could really come to like Damon Church, provided the Brujah didn't smash his head in for being an annoyingly talkative little shit. "Me? Well, the warrens, 'course. Ain't many other places I could call home. And while the offer of your fridge sure is generous, it's cozy enough down there." Sawyer laughed happily, glancing back at Aguirre. Somehow he didn't think she'd appreciate him squatting around like the world's ugliest third wheel. "'Bout the meth, though? Just call me Jesse Pinkman, buddy, I'm all in. Just don't burn the apartment down; I don't think your new roommate would like that very much. She's more fun when she ain't a pile of ashes, y'know?" Conveniently out of that roommate's earshot and on a monologuing roll, he murmured, "And hell yeah, she kicked my ass. She'll kick yours, too, if you give her half a chance. You been to Strickland's place yet? I think I might've contributed some impressive bloodstains to the floor in there, thanks to her. Don't call her Klutz or Mouse, she really don't like that." Damon certainly didn't look like a likely candidate for an ass kickin', but hell hath no fury like a Brujah scorned, and he would certainly bet on an angry Aguirre more than just about any other force in the universe. Gingerly, he touched his now-mended skull at the thought. Of course, if the new roommates ever did get in a tussle, Sawyer would be obligated to jump in on Aguirre's side anyhow. Sibling loyalty and all that precious stuff dictated that, whether she needed the help or not. When the mouse in question reappeared in the room, Sawyer cocked his head to the side and listened. Aguirre had a glint of vicious creativity in her eyes, and he knew that meant an interesting night above all else. He would happily tag along for whatever mischief she had in mind. Beaming at her in approval, Sawyer answered in a tone of sheer glee, as easily excitable as ever. "Hell yeah. And if anyone's good at liberatin' goods, it's you! What've ya got in mind? I don't know shit about home decoratin', but I'm good at followin' orders!" |
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| Loki | Friday, 20. September 2013, 22:45 Post #15 |
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Goblin King
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Teeth...meet the razors edge. That familiar sensation when all is not well in the world. Like sucking in icy air through a clenched jaw, and I suddenly feel an even tighter leash being tied to my tongue. A rat. A fucking rat that will scoop up any crumb of information and pass it to those who would find it valuable. Probably the most decent clan in the entirety of the Camarilla, simply cause they walk the fine line of neutrality. Something that worries me greatly. But by virtue of Aguirre, maybe it's irrelevant. He's been tailing her like the love sick puppy I expected him to be, and I doubt he's gonna wanna jeopardise his chances with her over screwing the smack head over. I certainly ain't worth losing her over. So I let the ill feeling slide, setting it on ice until I can trust him myself and not through Aguirre before running my mouth. Frankly, he seems a little... Simple for lack of a better word, like the world don't bother him none. Whispering excitedly about his ordeal by Brujah, his love of cooking meth and competence at following orders. Yeah, I definitely need to build the trust here. At Aguirre's mischievous suggestion, I can't bring myself to have the same enthusiasm. Whenever I leave this place I draw in the crazies. Not that there's anything wrong with that a lot of the time, I am always looking for a new fuck buddy. But the peace... Sometimes you meet new people and they're determined to give you none. "What you have in mind, sugar? " I ask with a cock of the head, my weary peepers showing off some of the reluctance in my words. At least she said to solve the shelving problem. At leat it ain't a bar or crack den, cause I sure can't appreciate those much. Though... On the other hand. The sheer amount of accumulated crap all around, as Sawyer said, threatening to bury me, maybe I should get out before I develope claustrophobia. Or if they leave me too it I might panic and start setting everything on fire. I look at the nosferatu" Wait did you say 'good at liberating?' " I ask, a little bemused. Seems like this sawyer knows a side that's darker than the constant brilliant white I can only see. It makes me think hard about the kind of field trip. It brings a face of pondering, then a smile. A grin. "Y'know what, why the fuck not? We got eternity to do this... And Clint is just as eternal. This though... This i gotta see." Ooc: wrong account. Fuck it! Edited by Loki, Friday, 20. September 2013, 22:46.
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Friday, 20. September 2013, 23:46 Post #16 |
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Mouse
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There was a notable amount of excitement on Aguirre's face as the boys decided to hop on her band wagon. This was gonna be a fun one, especially if she got to drag Damon along, too. It was an opportunity to show off a little, though she would never had admitted to such a thing in a million years. "So we're gonna raid that construction site a couple streets down. Been eyeballin' it since they started buildin' on that empty plot. Ain't nobody there this time of night, and the idiots leave their tools and supplies behind most of the time." The Brujah paused, tapping her chin, trying to consider what they would need. Maybe not anything really conspicuous, but she would pick that place apart like a kid loose in a candy store. "I could build us a perfectly good set of shelves. We just need to grab some good, flat planks, some two-by-fours, some screws and nails. And of course, whatever else we can fit in our pockets." Admittedly, her pockets wouldn't hold much more than her phone, considering the cut off denim shorts she wore. Whatever, they had pockets she could stuff things into. As she finished listing the fundamentals of what they would need to build shelving, which would more than likely change depending on what was actually at the construction site, she went for her boots, slipping her feet into them without bothering to tie them properly. Now that this idea was turning cogs in her mind, she wanted to get out and see what they could gather. She was about to disappear through the door without them. "C'mon, y'all, lets get the hell outta here before we drown in books. I like 'em, but I don't want 'em to be my demise." The trip back down the stairs (yet another for Church, though at least this time he didn't have to open the door for her and march his way right back to the over stuffed flat) led them out to the street, where Aguirre would lead the way with her hands in her pockets and the same spring in her step that was there on the way over with the last two boxes. She loved shit like this, even more so now that she got to participate in such shenanigans with both of her favorite people at the same time. Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Saturday, 21. September 2013, 05:51.
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| Sawyer | Saturday, 21. September 2013, 06:28 Post #17 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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A construction site, huh? Sawyer wasn't sure what sort of plan he'd been expecting, but certainly it'd been something more along the lines of breaking into an Ikea and carting off a bunch of Swedish modernist chairs and shit. This sounded a little less trendy and a little more rough and tumble- probably suited the Brujahs' style more, now that he thought about it. The elder of the two Brujah, however, seemed a bit less enthusiastic about the plan than Sawyer. He didn't look like the type to necessarily have any pangs of conscience about playing Robin Hood, so that was a little odd. Perhaps he just wasn't a fan of mischief? The thought boggled Sawyer's mind- this shit kept eternity interesting, at least until bigger threats reared their ugly heads. Aguirre hadn't found herself another shut-in, had she? I mean, there's kindred souls and then there's kindred souls, folks that got too much in common and don't do neither one any good 'cause of it, he thought a little ruefully. Sure, the guy didn't look too timid, but as a Nosferatu, Sawyer knew a thing or two about misleading appearances. Well, it shouldn't make any difference. Even if Church's heart wasn't quite in it, it wasn't any skin off Sawyer's back. The Nosferatu was excited all the same, and it seemed like his counterpart would be all in, if only to make Aguirre happy. "Hell, I can approve of a lil' DIY," he said with his usual breezy grin. "Lead the way, ma'am." He followed her out, hands in pockets and whistling faintly, emerging from Church's apartment building into the night. Beneath a gloomy layer of fog, Enfield's streetlights distorted weirdly and shined sickly yellow. In the distance, Sawyer could see their target for the night, the lone area on the busy commercial street that wasn't lit up like a Christmas tree, a black spot between a parking garage and a 24-hour drug store. "I was hopin' for a little more of a challenge than this, truth be told," he said ruefully as they walked towards the construction site. "Don't suppose there's much worth guarding out here, is there?" |
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| Church | Saturday, 21. September 2013, 11:56 Post #18 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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I give the apartment one disgruntled look before locking the door behind us. I certainly don't want to be left behind in this disaster whilst she's out gallivanting with boys. I sound like an old man. Maybe I'm taking this role a little to the heart, she ain't my daughter. Sure I had a son, and the way I was enjoying myself on a world's tour, I'm willing to bet I have a daughter somewhere. I'm too deep in this thought to really be bothered by the stairwell for who knows what time today. What if she was your daughter? As a million to one as that is, I spose it COULD theoretically be true. She certainly got the fine ass part of the genetics. "I've broken into a construction site or two in my day. Though usually it was to hide a body..." I grumble quietly as we emerge into the street, being the muscle of a lunatic gangster usually involved making bodies part of the foundation of a new building or road. It's amongst the many criminal actions I have taken part in... Though theft and larceny were probably the things I engaged in the least. "You'd be surprised - the worth of some of the stuff here... I bet there's at least a hundred kays tucked away." Not that we need jackhammers or genielifts. But I get the distinct feeling we'll be taking more than necessary. I can't say I've noticed the place before, a great thing about being the living dead you tend to be able to sleep through the horrendous noise of London by day. Sawyer wanted more of a challenge and I snigger st the thought. "Well I can respect that. We could hit up the drugstore too if you wan' any cotton buds. Or maybe set the place on fire after we leave an' be all dramatic? I tell yah, cops here ain't any fun. Don't start shooting unless shit gets biblical." Plenty of that around, or there was in the east once upon a time. Things sure seem to have quietened down... Or maybe that's cause I blank out everything that doesn't directly concern me. Weather is typical, ominous as ever for a heist of this caliber. I freeze. A smile creeps onto my face. Maybe I can make things a little more interesting. Oh deary me, I am a genius. Or a moron. I recommence our steady pace with a sinister smirk I can't hide. "Do this often I take it?" I ask my comrades as sweetly as I can. Inside, I am a torrent of insane laughter. |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Saturday, 21. September 2013, 18:50 Post #19 |
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Mouse
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"You think haulin' supplies off a construction site ain't a challenge? I once got my ass kicked by some bobby with a baton for even trespassin' on one. That was way back when, though. Nobody's gonna come at me with a baton nowadays. 'Sides, ain't nobody round here wantin' another ugly office building; I don't need a challenge presented to impede some corporate ass hole's progress, even if it's only a little." The stuff about hiding bodies--that was an interesting bit of information, though considering his past, not exactly surprising. She suspected that the sire he'd been so careful to pass over in the recount of his memories had something to do with all that, the vague enigma that Aguirre wished she knew more about. However, it was probably for the better that she didn't. He was right about the value of the machinery she'd seen the workers leave at their site for a few nights in a row, though most of the profit would come from the power tools they managed to lift. If there were a sander in there though, she was keeping it. Her father would have gone ape shit over a professional power sander. "I dunno about all that drug store nonsense, though. Y'all go right on ahead, I ain't gettin' my face plastered all over the news." At the question of how often they played this game, she tittered quietly. They did it often enough that it might have been considered a profession now, at least for she and her goofy-ass partner in crime. It was a lot of fun, more so now that Sawyer actually participated in the whole 'stealing' part. The thought struck that maybe she was a bad influence, but the Nosferatu seemed to enjoy it, so why not be? She hadn't noticed the fact that Damon froze in his tracks, or that trouble-making grin painted up on his rough features. She might have worried somewhat if she had. "Yeah, we do a little breakin' and entering' from time to time. It certainly makes our nights interesting. I'm glad you're game for the field trip, this should be a good time--even if the only good that comes out of it is takin' care of all the clutter back home." They would come upon their target rather quickly, or at least Aguirre would, since her pace was increasing the more excited she got. Her lanky form stepped onto the loose soil of the site, slipping through a thin opening in the chain link fence that contained it. There was a hole in the ground full of neatly laid cement and rebar, recently inlaid with the skeleton of what would eventually be solid walls. All the supplies and machinery were still in place for the reinforcement of the ground floor to begin the next day. The woman scanned over their surroundings, and as predicted, the list did quickly change. Sure there were plenty of flat boards and two-by-fours, but she got a much better idea as her gaze became fixed on a tall stack of ugly old wooden pallets. She pointed in their general direction, saying, "We'll need a bunch of those, but lets find all the small stuff first--screws and the like, sandpaper, lots of sandpaper, we'll need that too. Maybe a nail gun?" She wandered over to where the crew kept their supplies, bending down to rifle through a hefty tool bag; she was having a blast, especially with a clear idea now in her mind. Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Saturday, 21. September 2013, 19:25.
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| Sawyer | Saturday, 21. September 2013, 22:57 Post #20 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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"Jesus Christ, 'bobby with a baton' must be the most British thing I've ever heard you say," Sawyer said, bemused. He listened attentively as Aguirre told her companion about their new career. Truth be told, Sawyer wasn't exactly sure he liked being a thief, at least when it came to the hard-earned possession of actual people. His wardrobe had improved lately, at least, but he still felt a little bad about it. Really, what he liked most about it was just the chance to tag along and feel half-way helpful. It sure was nice to have friends... "We haven't set nothin' on fire yet, though," he added as a post-script. "Nor, uh, am I terribly keen on tryin' that out." Church, however, seemed to finally have gotten caught up in the heady mischief of the night, and his eyes were lighting up a little crazily at the thought of arson. Now, Sawyer wasn't one to ever begrudge a man his fun, but fire might be a special exception. He hauled himself over the chain-link fence, too big to fit through the hole that Aguirre had found. Deftly, he hopped down, landing in the rubble with a dull thump. More noise than he'd usually like to make when skulking around in places he wasn't supposed to be, but stealth just didn't seem particularly urgent tonight. After all, who was going to bother them? Those bobbies with batons? As Aguirre rifled through the tools, Sawyer crept around the skeleton of the ground floor, collecting shiny nails and screws in his pocket. But as he made his way through the echoing halls of the building's frame, something seemed... a bit off. Long, sensitive ears perked up at the sound of shuffling somewhere in the distance. Sawyer paused, glancing around and seeing nothing. "Y'all hear something?" He inquired, head cocked to the side, suddenly struck by the feeling that the three of them weren't exactly alone. |
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3:19 PM Jul 11