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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 (3,122 Views) | |
| Church | Saturday, 21. September 2013, 23:52 Post #21 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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With great effort I keep my to tongue still, catching up to the pair and whistling something generic enough to be a real song or my own invention. Now Sawyer seems understandable, Nosferatu are bred for this kind of expedition; but the fact that Aguirre seems to be calling the shots is still a surprise. No wonder he's all hung up on her. I go to mimic my compadres vault of the fence, but clasping my hands on it I realise that the whole thing is pretty rickety to the dawned. And we'll need an exit. I lift the fence from the block bases and dump the panel to the soft earth with a brief clatter, striding in with my merry whistle uninterrupted. I have a vague idea what she's after;I may not have been a craftsman but I've welded a claw hammer on the rare occasion it'd been warranted. Also drills are great for fucking kneecaps. "I think there should be a lock up, with all the bits n pieces needed for the job." I comment, at least I assume construction is multicultural art. Regardless, I start to patrol just like Sawyer, eyes sharp and keen for anything useful or, apparently, pricy. I ain't the kind to fill my pockets though. I want something of substantial size and worth. Go big or go home. I hear Sawyer call out his concern that he heard something. "Oh really? You heard summit in the middle of a humongous fucking city? Yeah, I think I hear it too. The sound of eight million heartbeats. I hear it too, Tonto." if he can see my poker face right now, all the better. Please, hearing something. I don't buy it for a second, and if I did, I feel we have numbers enough to... Well... My backup consists of the Mouse and someone who got their ass kicked by the mouse. Ok so there goes that confidence. Still, maybe this job warrants some kind of guard? Maybe someone is skulking around in the shadows. Calling the cops as we speak. Lord almighty, not the cops! Or bobbies as they're now to always be referred to. Well, I had planned on calling them myself. If only to spice up the night, to give a little excitement to something teenagers probably broke into. I continue my search, splitting off from the others looking for that big haul. Nothing to worry about... Right? |
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| Mac | Sunday, 22. September 2013, 00:32 Post #22 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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Now, that was a group that was as quiet as mice. NOT. It was like they thought the whole world was their oyster and no one could get -them-. She could heard them with those extra sensitive ears from half a block away, and then realizing they may be coming into her turf she had slid up onto the roof of the locked storage unit where the main bulk of the tools were kept. No one left the important tools out in the yard, the best of the best was locked up to prevent idiots like these from pilfering them for free. She had been about to shoot the lock off herself, a silencer on her hand gun, when the trouble came giggling into the constrution site. She watched them from atop the storage unit, dark eyes and mass of dread locks free dissappearing into the dim and dark of the shadows. Well, blow me. It's Aguirre, some springy high jumper, and... My my, Mr. White Knight Freak in the pants. She had ditched the hotel room the next day just before sun down, so he couldn't come finding her after they parted. She had said they could get up to trouble later, but she never gave him a proper time line on exactly when that trouble would be had. She was careful not to let herself get pinned down with shit like that, so that things could happen on her own terms. She could slip away now, dissappear out into the night and be unseen by all of them... But there was that nagging feeling in her gut, a nagging, annoying feeling like she -owed- Church something for his resucing her ass. She was about 95% of her usual self, having healed in the time since... The bicep still gave her some trouble, some fiery rage now and then reminding her of how horrible she had treated it, and a lovely scar out lined the place that was sliced away by Doc Fanger over there. That was hidden underneath her black hoodie though, and she had managed to get most of the muck and guck out of her favorite jeans and they were mostly clean too. Her sneakers were the same pair, old, ratty as fuck, and like extensions of her feet they were so worn in. Then Aguirre was picking her way through a tool bag infront of the lock up, where most of the crappy broken shit ended up that no one really cared enough about to put away properly. Oh god, that was to -perfect- an opportunity to pass up. Come on! AGUIRRE! Girl, what the fuck are you doing? She never even looked up, she never glanced around, she was -clueless-! She wanted to face palm, but that would give her away... and this would be - so much- more fun. Church had warned her not to fuck with Aguirre, but he had certainly meant in the terms of making her diner right? She could still -fuck- with Aguirre? She dropped over the edge, attempting to land directly on top of the girl and pancake her. Church would recognize this movement, as a frog splash. It was just kind of backwards, because Aguirre was bent over. She'd ride the girl to the ground, although she wouldn't hurt her. She wasn't doing it to get diner, or maim her, she was doing it for a laugh. "Hey Sugar. What's shaking?" She'd then sit up and straddle the womans waist while she spoke and if she could (If Aguirre was stunned enough to not writhe and flail immediately and throw her off) Mac would slap Aguirre's rather fine bottom with a hefty ringing SMACK! Yes, she was going to pay for that... But, that was an opportunity one couldn't really waste. |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Frankie O'Hara | Monday, 23. September 2013, 03:20 Post #23 |
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The Mohawk
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An hour or so before Aguirre and her posse had shown up at the construction site Frankie had nimbly scaled the fence of the construction. The punk smiled up at the skeletal foundations of the building. Construction sites: A parkour enthusiast's wet dream. Well at least that was Frankie's definition of them. She had the bright ass pink of her mohawk tucked under a black beanie and she quickly stretched her arms and legs to readjust the snug material of her outfit and checked the ties of her running shoes before the tucking the shoestrings. She ran her headphones under her shirt and put the buds in before putting it on shuffle and letting the music drown out the ambient noise of the city. And just like that she had started to practice. She had just pulled herself up to the top of the skeleton of steel beams when she decided to take a break. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket and lit one, taking a drag, and then letting it hang from her lips for a moment as she moved to sit with her legs hanging over the edge. She reached into her pocket and paused the music and removed her earbuds and it wasn't until the music stopped that she heard anything below her. From the four floors up that she was it was impossible to make out the voices or what they were saying, and with an annoyed sigh Frankie began her descent after taking a few more puffs of the cigarette and stubbing it out and flicking it away. She followed the sounds of the voices until she could see the sources of them. "Y'all hear something?" "Oh really? You heard summit in the middle of a humongous fucking city? Yeah, I think I hear it too. The sound of eight million heartbeats. I hear it too, Tonto." Frankie smirked and pulled out her phone and opened an audio file she'd downloaded awhile back with the intent of using it creep Aguirre the fuck out, and let it play from her vantage above them. Edited by Frankie O'Hara, Monday, 23. September 2013, 03:22.
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Monday, 23. September 2013, 04:37 Post #24 |
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Mouse
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"Y'all hear something?" Aguirre hadn't entirely been paying attention; she was more focused on the disappointment caused by the tool bag. At least she'd found all the nails she would need, something close to three pounds of loose four-penny nails. What she did hear was Church's biting sarcasm, and only had time for a sharp raise of the brow before she felt an incredibly heavy object drop onto her back all at once and throw her forward. She was knocked face down into the damp earth with a graceless thud, stunned by toned mile-long legs gripping her midsection. The sharp slap to her ass made her immediately try to claw her way out from under the woman, or at least do her damnedest to knock her to the side and scramble up to her feet. She set wild copper eyes on the amazonian, seething and unnecessary breath after spitting out a mouth full of dirt. Her entire front side was filthy with damp earth. She cursed at Mac between spattering the ground with her soil laced, bloody saliva. "You awful (yeccht) bitch, I told you'd I'd shoot your dumb ass--" Aguirre grabbed for Mathilda, the Colt Commander that would usually be strapped to her ribs. Upon being reminded that she didn't actually have the well-loved gun with her, she just about lost her cool, a low growl of frustration escaped from her features twisted up with bewildered vexation. Not only had the gargantuan beast violated her space and ruined her clothes, she'd made Aguirre look like an absolute klutz in front of the other two southerners. She was poised to lunge for the throat despite the fact she knew she would probably get her ass kicked. She stopped in her tracks, however, when her ears picked up the sound Sawyer must have heard before. Her eyes shot around the site, and upon missing the source of the tinny grunts and eerie whispers, her gaze then flitted from each of the members of her own party in confusion. Was it just her, or did it sound as though it were coming over a cheap speaker? Didn't seem to be any of them. "Well and just WHAT IN SAM-FUCKIN'-HILL IS THAT?" Aguirre snarled through gritted teeth. Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Monday, 23. September 2013, 06:57.
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| Sawyer | Monday, 23. September 2013, 22:36 Post #25 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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A crashing thump broke the relative silence of the night air, followed by a growled string of curses from Aguirre. Sawyer whirled around, eyes searching the murky darkness for whatever had jumped her. He didn't have to search particularly hard, though- sitting on top of the Brujah was an enormous, tattooed hellbeast of a woman with a gloating smile on her face. And dear lord, what a scary woman. Sawyer wasn't sure where her tattoos began or ended, and hell, she was probably as tall as him. To be strong enough to pin down a very disgruntled Brujah, she must be something even more bloodthirsty. Fuckin' wonderful! Typically, Sawyer would intervene in this sort of situation. But he figured Aguirre could take care of herself and probably would be offended by an offer of help, anyway; clearly she was already acquainted with her attacker, and besides, he was pretty damn amused by the fact that the hellbeast was more interested in feeling his friend up than attacking her. She a hunter or something, or was she just particularly into groping undead kettledrums in the middle of the night? If it were the latter, he could appreciate that sort of motivation. It was for a good cause, right? Fuck it, he'd be blunt. This was actually, uh, kinda hot. Relaxing ever-so-slightly, he cautiously turned around and approached the tussling pair, right as Aguirre ferally lunged for hellbeast's throat with snapping fangs. "Oh, come on," Sawyer said, rolling his eyes, tone laden with sarcastic melodrama. "Fuckin' told you guys I heard somethin'! Nooooo, we're in a big fuckin' city, no way could the fuckin' Nossie hear somethin' important! What would he know? Jesus Christ..." His whining monologue was interrupted by a series of eerie whispers that seemed to reverberate off the metal beams that formed the skeleton of the building. The Nosferatu glanced up, ears twitching at the tinny, distorted quality of the sound. Played off speakers, maybe? Certainly wasn't real, whatever that meant. He had a lingering feeling that they still weren't alone. Maybe hellbeast brought friends? "Alright, alright, lil' buddy, come on out. Apparently this shit's a party now. The fuck you doin', tryin' to play haunted house?" |
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| Church | Tuesday, 24. September 2013, 00:06 Post #26 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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My first instinct is to grab the hammer laying on a workbench close by, even though I've got sharp enough senses to know the noise that was a little bit away. This is why I don't have a gun, cause Aguirre and whoever the hell the fucking hunter zombie is would be full of bullets. As well as the sky. Go cowboy on that shit. I stumble forward a few steps, who in the fuck- "Sawyer shut the hell up!"- that kid keeps on yammering about being a bat eared little bitch. My instinct is to do some brutal over the top boot to the temple, but when I start to gather momentum I realise just who it is mouting my roomy. Not here, not on Church street! I don't know if its the gigantic feminine form, or the mind that guides those devilishly idle hands. "MAC" I roar; whatever drop of piss remains inside my boils at the stupid fucking smile on her face. Walk out on me? Fuck no. I don't give a fuck that they're some sort of... friends with benefits by the seems . I don't know if the noise itself freaks me out, or everyone's reactions. Aguirre yelps amidst the struggle, the rat prattles on about some shit. God damn. Now I'm really glad I didn't call the cops, though I wouldn't be surprised if they ended up here. The noise, makes me take my eyes of the ghoul. My ghoul. Fucking bitch. I hear it again, another faint whisper of a GOD DAMN DEMON I grasp the hammer tight, channel my annoyance and fury, hurl it at the noise. "We're workin' here, you fuckin-" I bellow, stealth becoming somewhat lost the more I'm around. I turn back to the catfight, somehow resisting the urge to grab a bucket of water. Probably because I got a face to pummel. No a bit harsh...The arm. Bet that'll feel real good. "Whassa matter Mac? Don't play nice with others?" I stride forward, not sure if I want Aguirre to bite her throat out or if I wanna do it myself. I wanna get my hands on her, and I hope that I can let it slide. Don't nobody understand a gentleman's agreement these days? I appreciate the fact that she is a fucking mammoth, and that I am trusting a choppsy Nosferatu to guard my back from the fucking dickhead in the rafters. "You wanna stop coppin' a feel of my buddy and get the fuck over here? Come on." I clap my hands together, whistling intermitted. "Come 'ere Mac. Come on girl." I wave her over and pat my lap. I grin, the smile of an arrogant prick. I'm pissed but I knew she was flighty. I knew that given the fact she was physically and mentally drained after the whole near death experience, she would have agreed to anything. Good thing I'm a good guy, I know some fuckers who would've taken advantage. Meh. If I want still girls I'll go to the morgue. So anyway...yeah. I'm pissed but I'm not pissed. But I wanna see if I can push her buttons, make that bro come at me and all that. "Come on Mac, I thought you were my bitch now? Instead of bein' a stinkin' stray." Come on, pretty please. Come at me. I can't really worry about anything else going on right now, I ain't taking my eyes off her. She scarpers, I'll chase her down and break her legs. Then again, her survival instinct seems as potent as that of the beast, I bet she wouldn't stop fightin' till it's someones dead. So come on. Come for me. Or at least spank Aguirre again... |
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| Mac | Tuesday, 24. September 2013, 02:01 Post #27 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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She had been in the yard when Frankie had a Parkour session up the rafting beams. She had kept herself out of the way and in the shadows, not wanting to draw attention to herself in front of the stunt pulling kid. She hadn't meant to be seen by anyone, and was almost cursing herself for the lack of self control when it came to bombing down on Aguirre. The creeptastic music the kid was playing from on high was excellent, as it freaked out the thrashing raging Aguirre long enough for Mac to form the second stage of the show. She had let Aguirre get to her feet, moving just out of reach as the girl groped herself for her gun and found it lacking. Then Aguirre was raging and trying to choke her, which was awesome... Especially when the music startled Aguirre into freezing. Churches booming "MAC" didn't even make her pause, as she slipped right into those outstretched arms. First she let Aguirres hands run along her neck as if she was letting her choke her, cool dead fingertips along burning hot mortal flesh, but she was stepping in while she did it to put the arms all way behind her neck like they were -hugging-, one arm sliding around Aguirres waist and pulling the girl hard to her rather sturdy body. A hug however, usually didn't include one person taking the others legs out with a short sweep, and she would catch Aguirre in her arms and keep her from properly falling, leaving her in the damsel in distress faint catch position. This was full out debonair fancy shit, and she smiled as she looked into the startled woman's face. " God lady, a face full of mudd and you're still gorgeous as fuck. You could make a bad girl good..." Then, she would kiss her. Hard and quick, and... Muddy, but nothing could help that now. Mac tasted like a liquor store, but liquor stores were sterile at least, and she smelled like camp fire, burning pine and ever greens. Fuck yeah, this was the stupidest cheese she'd ever done, and it struck her sick sense of humor in the most gratifying way. Church was screaming at the kid in the beams, and then addressing Mac again. "Good shits all in the storage locker Love. Break the lock sugah." She'd just drop Aguirre to the ground, and turn with a heaty expression on Doc Fanger, until he addressed her like a dog. Then her playful body language (if anyone could even tell) seemed to melt into something more aggressive and dangerous. She had come for fun, but he was pushing it into another Arena. Maybe she had this fucker wrong, the way he was talking to her. "I'd rather be a stray than wear a collar." He was trying to push her, he was purposefully being a dickhead. This much she knew. His blood may be inside her, pumping through her heart, flowing through every vein, infecting every blood cell... But fuck if she was going to let any blood bond shit get in the way of her thinking. She didn't have enough going on upstairs without that bull, adding it into the fucking disaster that was her mind? No thank you. She knew she shouldn't have drank from him, she didn't tend to drink from folk and let them -remember-. She was going to have to wipe herself from his fucking mind, or kill him. So much for amicable fucking. "I came to play, talk about payin my debt... If you're going all 'Master Doc Fanger'... You can go fuck yourself, cuz you won't be fucking me with that attitude." She was not going to make a run at him, she knew she was a one story apartment... Pretty to look at, but there Wasnt much upstairs, but she Wasnt that dumb. She knew how to pick her battles. Upfront, with a Brujah that knew what the fuck they were doing? That's a big old NOPE. He was pushing her buttons, so she'd push right back... Hand slipping inside her hoodie for who knows what. He'd know though, he'd seen the armory strapped to her body. Course, the black hoodie she wore could conceal a hell of a lot more than the tight clothes from the other night... Edited by Mac, Tuesday, 24. September 2013, 02:23.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Frankie O'Hara | Tuesday, 24. September 2013, 04:50 Post #28 |
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The Mohawk
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Frankie had planned to simply stand hidden from view behind one of the vertical steel beams, but leaned to see what the commotion was that didn't seem to correlate with her little spook. She frowned at the sight of two women, one eyebrow lifting and barely suppressing the snort of laughter at the sharp sound of the woman struggling on the bottom getting her ass slapped. She slipped back out of immediate sight and grinned as her little prank started to get a bit of a reaction. Only...she hadn't expected that voice. She pushed down the apprehension of facing her ex-roommate, she still hadn't called off Operation: Avoid Aguirre at All Costs, but sitting at home alone with Montag had provided the time she needed to think. A lot of introspective shit that she wasn't used to, a lot of self discovery...that and she'd started smoking more regularly. But that was a whole can of emotional bullshit she was determined not to open with Aguirre tonight. "BROOO-" Frankie pulled off her beanie flipping her piece of shit phone closed when the creepy audio file ended and had already started to play the next recording stored on her phone. She put a shit eating grin on her face and quickly fussed with her hair managing it into a neat flophawk as she moved into clear view, "Hey there, Aguir - HOLY SH-!" The punk was more startled by the impact of the hammer on the beam she'd been standing behind than anything else. She stared down at the strange fucking event that is unfolding below her. Mr. Rage Face throwing hammers and yelling, Aguirre covered in muck... Now that kiss though...there's only one way to respond to that. Wolf whistle. That huge grin spread across Frankie's face as the sharp noise of the whistle died, "If only our good friend Lady Boner was here to appreciate the view." |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Tuesday, 24. September 2013, 05:49 Post #29 |
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Mouse
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It was a bad idea, a very bad idea to get anywhere near Mac. Aguirre should have backed up and gotten as far away as possible; instead, like a total dumbass, she put herself right in the way of the sudden bear hug and leg sweep that would send her falling with a muted squeak of surprise. At the point when she assumed she would be hitting the ground, she was quite surprised to find that she was instead caught in the arms of the Amazonian, looking with severe confusion back at her as she smiled and... Hold on, what? "Wha--" the Texan was cut off in the process of questioning just what the fuck Mac was even on about as the woman laid one on her. Her face read wide eyed bafflement. She hadn't actually caught the bit about the shed, but she sure caught the ground as it collided with her back in one short, sobering movement of weightlessness before what would have knocked the wind out of her if she were alive. The loose elastic in her hair was long gone, and now the dark lengths were clotted with earth, as well as her entire backside. She didn't remember ever being quite so thoroughly covered in any one substance before, save the time at university when she'd gotten trashed and been rudely awoken by some men with golf clubs, and promptly ejected from the comfortable sand pit she had gone to sleep in. She found granules on her person for weeks afterward. Blinking slowly a few times, Aguirre rolled up onto her knees and climbed to her feet, looking positively miserable.. And maybe a little homeless. She tried to brush earth from her face And hair, thinking bitterly, fuck it. Any further attempts at Mac would only result in further humiliation and violation of personal space. As far as the pecking order went, she was at the absolute bottom. Church could fucking have her. He obviously knew her, anyway, big surprise. They were birds of a feather, what with being psychotic and all. While he and the giant did whatever they were going to do, she'd be busy looking for a rock to crawl under; actually, she'd be trying to dump the dryer bits of soil out of her shirt and boots with a bitter twist to her features. The silver lining, if any? At least she apparently looked good clad in mud. Hoo-fucking-ray. With what sounded like the cracking of her teeth she clenched her jaw tightly. That wolf whistle and the pink hair were things she could have gone without seeing or hearing tonight. After all, she had only officially made the move an hour or two ago. After the last few horribly awkward nights in the tiny flat, she hadn't planned on seeing Frankie for a good chunk of the next, oh, century. "This night could literally not get any worse", she muttered defeatedly under her breath. Boy, it was good the live studio audience seemed to keep fucking growing. With every new member to the crowd, Aguirre became significantly smaller. Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Tuesday, 24. September 2013, 14:50.
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| Sawyer | Tuesday, 24. September 2013, 20:08 Post #30 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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Well, this really was a party now, wasn't it? The pink mohawk hiding in the rafters could only belong to Frankie, Aguirre's lost kitten of a roommate. Why she was skulking around here, he couldn't guess. He'd hoped to meet her earlier, but not necessarily in a circumstance where hammers were thrown around, and he could tell things weren't exactly friendly between the two Brujah. As the girl laughed and whistled at the sight of Mac's impromptu kiss, Sawyer could see Aguirre visibly shrink. Aw, shit. Somehow, this had all gotten a bit less funny, and concern was beginning to blossom within him for his friend. "She's yours?" Sawyer inquired of Church, a single eyebrow raised. "Might wanna invest in a leash." That was his idea of well-trained ghoul? Who the hell was Aguirre trusting her safety with? He frowned slightly, hoping that Church didn't keep this hellbeast locked in the closet or something. Mac certainly didn't seem quite sanguine at the idea of being a pet. The two enormous, scary people began to snarl at one another, circling like wolves, and Sawyer thanked his lucky stars that his ass didn't have such a disgruntled ball and chain. Content that at least no one was going to get their throat ripped out for the time being, he walked over to Aguirre, who was still stubbornly attempting to brush the dirt off of her clothes and out of her hair. "This night could literally not get any worse", she sighed, her voice barely audible. With a frown of sympathy, Sawyer gingerly reached out and patted her on the shoulder, dusting a bit of dirt away in the process. "Aw, sure it could!" he said cheerfully, giving her an encouraging smile. "Things can always get worse! Nothin's broken, is it?" |
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| Church | Tuesday, 24. September 2013, 21:19 Post #31 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Perhaps I am not the smartest of dipshits, but I sure know a thing or two. How to throw a punch. How to steal a car. How to read a lady. And this here lady is getting pissed. Good, I feel, spotting a wiped out Aguirre simple get away from the hoe-beast. I feel a little less comfortable about the whole, 'Sawyer as my back up' plan, but I glance up at the rafters long enough to see the anti-camouflage that is Frankie's hair. That was her name right? Or at least I had placed the face with the name and description Aguirre had given me. And I assume Aguirre didn't room with no fuckin' demon, so we're safe! Right? Mac. Anyone around her spit venom!? "Oh...tha's a shame." I frown, sounding somewhat defeated. "I think you'd look good wearin' a collar" On your knees and wearin' nothin else. Or not as it would seem, and above everythin' I don't really wanna lose out on my proposal. I got a plan y'see, but she had to run off and not hear it. While it's always a hoot to see some humiliation, not when that happens to be Aguirre. Ultimately it was harmful enough, had this been take two of the night I wandered into, this bitch would be choking on her teeth right now. As for the fuck, well, when I weigh things out, a good fight is usually better than a good fuck. And though I'd dig a chick who can beat the crap outta me some, the downside is things could get a little out of hand. Bitch might take things too far. Set my ass on fire. It could easily result in us parting ways real quickly, even everyone's still in one piece. I sigh quietly, feeling exasperated by the fucking one minute madness. Whatever tense shape my body had contorted to sags at a deep, unnecessary breath. "Next time...we rob a bank! Less fucking trouble." I shout to my dismayed comrades, I notice Sawyer hunch over and bring our friend a little comfort. That moment alone makes me warm to the kid. He can be things I can't. That's a whole lotta shit.. I eye her hands slip into her pockets and my approaching becomes weary. "None of that funny business y'here? Just wanna take that look at cha I was banging on 'bout." I'm trying to reason with a maniac, but she's thick skinned enough to shrug off my little outburst. Besides I figure lookin's free. I come to a stop, eye to eye with an anti-vampire. There's something very eerie about that whole concept, a ghoul without servitude. Right on I say, but I'm glad everyone's not doing it. Holy shit, is that what the masquerade is preventing? "You pissed me off, y'know." I mutter, pupils darting to different corners of her features before settling on her eyes. Shame that her clothing doesn't give the true image of her she hulk body, though maybe I could persuade her to change that. I know I have certain capabilities to make my words more agreeable, and maybe I let a little supernatural charm filter my words. (Presence, Awe) "You seem to remember enough to know tha' I was interested. You could of at least spanked me couldn'cha?" I let my hand slip out to her arm, tracing it down to the pocket. My fingers brush over her own, I feel the dented and deformed metal. I smile. What a fucking surprise. "So how about we jus' talk? I don't mind playin' with ya' some. But play nice for now, hmm?" Nice is a relevant term ain't it? |
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| Mac | Tuesday, 24. September 2013, 22:07 Post #32 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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"Marco said his collar looked hot. Note, I'm not wearin it anymore... And he's not undead, only dead Sugah. " His approach was met by her pacing to the side a few steps, before coming to a realization and stopping to just wait. Hazel eyes watching him with an expression of terribly amused annoyance, like she was saying "I know what youre doing fucker, and Im not playing." with her eyes alone. Brujah were faster than she was, and she didn't have the celerity of her mid days as a ghoul anymore. Somehow, these things tended to come and go with her different donors. The dominance Marco had taught her was the only ability that ever actually stuck with her, and she was okay with that. It meant she got away with a lot more shit than anything else would allow for. She heard Sawyer talking to Aguirre, and she had to grin and bite her bottom lip as he said it could always get worse. Buddy was smart there at least, if she thought a mouthful of dirt was the worst it got she'd obviously never had an intimate one on one with a few Sabbat. "Banks are surprisingly difficult to rob these days Im afraid." She did flinch however, when his hand reached out to touch her. It was a flash of movement, short and quelled quickly. Not a tremble, just a flinch... Like a dog that'd been hit to many times does when someone reaches out to pet it. It may want the pet, or the attention, but instinct automatically caused the hand shyness. She didn't -trust- this fanger, even if he did seen like a good fucking time. She should have stayed in the shadows and just watched the idiots walk around, but then... Aguirre would never have learned to look the fuck up once in a while. His hand traveling down her arm did other things to her, those other mortal needs rather neglected. His blood inside her only intensified that little nudge of longing, and it made her grin with a sadistic pleasure that she wouldn't even let herself go there. Sometimes torturing herself was the best fun. "I pissed you off? Because what? I wasn't waiting like a little minion for you to come back? I told you we'd get up to trouble in a few days right? When I didn't have a huge fucking HOLE cut out of my arm... Because little bitty over there... " She pulled the flask out of her pocket and She used it to motion to Aguirre. "Had to stick her nose in and get the whole situation blown to fuck. I didn't say I would stay in that room so you could come back and fucking take advantage of me looped out of my mind. I was tripping for three days after that, High as a fucking kite from the after effects of the Barons bite. I also remember saying I need to drink a whole liquor store first... I'm a little early in that case... " She went to uncork her flask, the ancient piece of battered metal dented and scratched to hell, the outside rusted around the bottom. A quick sip taken, the fumes from inside the same fucking toxic 96% polish vodka she was throwing up everywhere the other night. "Why would I spank you? When I know you'll enjoy it -so- much Doc? " No, he would enjoy it way to much...how much though? Where was -his- line? She had found hers the the other night, pushed from the masochistic pleasure train and into the agonizing my insides are going to shut down from a burning fever hell hole. She looked him in the eyes, wondering if this was the time to simply fuck herself out of his memories and see if she was capable of dominating his fucked up mind.. But damned if she didn't want to be the conductor of -his- train at the same time. "Fuck." No, she wouldn't be his pet dog. And like that, she threw herself at him, aiming a good knee right for his groin with a snarl. Edited by Mac, Tuesday, 24. September 2013, 22:17.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Frankie O'Hara | Wednesday, 25. September 2013, 03:21 Post #33 |
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The Mohawk
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Frankie frowned as she recognized some of the signs of embarrassment on her friend. God she hated these feelings...this strange inability hold up the walls against this one person. She wanted to comfort her, hold her like she did that night after Aguirre had ghoul boy problems...but this time, she really wanted to apologize for what she had just done. Apologize for being an ass, apologize for trying to shut her out, apologize for so many things...but she wasn't sure how to get past the aching feeling that moving out was just the first step and in another month she may not be there at all. Frankie anxiously scratched at her scalp and after a few moments she decided that there was only two options really. She could ignore this and just let this stay awkward and weird, or she could nut up, and her uncle had always said that if there was one thing the O'Hara's had left it was a nice set of balls. So Frankie climbed down easily to stand level with the whole crew of crazy, she focused on Aguirre and pulled her pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and offered one to the dirt coated Brujah, contemplating what to say as she hung her own cigarette between her lips... "I'd offer you a shot, but I don't carry things that make me violently ill." "I sometimes forget that my ass isn't a hat." "Sorry?" See simple would've been good for this moment, cut the witty bullshit out of the equation and just leave the emotional, awkward bullshit, unless, of course, you didn't factor in the unknown variable that was the crazy crew which at this moment seemed to be turning into some kind of weird battle between Mr. Rage Face and his prospective...what the fuck was even going on right now? So instead of inheriting the O'Hara balls long enough to say sorry, as the pink haired Brujah saw Mac lunge she backed off, lit her cigarette, and asked with a slight frown, "Friends of yours?" |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Wednesday, 25. September 2013, 07:06 Post #34 |
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Mouse
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Sawyer's claws on her shoulder certainly made her feel a little better, especially as he attempted to aid in dusting her off some. He was chipper as ever. She gazed at him for a moment before shaking her head with a chuckle, saying, "Naw, nothin's broken, I ain't that soft." Her clothes were surely goners, though; hopefully she could salvage the boots. Aguirre faced back to the angry hurricane of dreadlocks now before her mentor, wondering just how they actually knew each other, a question that would quickly be answered by the giant when she mentioned a hole in her arm. "...Because little bitty over there..." "Now how the fuck was that situation my fault? You were bashin' that girl's head into the sidewalk!" Aguirre uttered through indignance and gritted teeth. "And you tried to put the blame off on me!" Not that any of this would actually be heard, and if it was, it would be ignored. They were too busy making innuendos at each other through angry faces. That flask being shoved in the Brujah's direction looked like it had been to hell and back, as apposed to the one Aguirre kept, which was still shiny and new after so many years. Clearly it hadn't gotten enough mileage yet. Her copper eyes would wander away just in time to see Frankie offering her a cigarette, something she would accept with a small note of surprise, as well as a light. "Friend of yours?" Frankie seemed unimpressed. Then again, a shot to the nuts was generally considered... Below the belt. "Not the she-Hulk, no." Aguirre would neglect to mention the fact that the other was her new roommate, since it seemed far from the appropriate time to ever mention such information. She might have stepped in on Damon's behalf, were it not for the fact it would be more detrimental to him than helpful. "Anybody wanna bet on 'em? I got a tenner on Church." |
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| Sawyer | Wednesday, 25. September 2013, 19:09 Post #35 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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Sawyer looked the pair over just as the tattooed hellbeast launched herself at Church with a feral snarl. Whistling slightly in appreciation, he raised an eyebrow at Aguirre. "The scary chick. What's her name? Mac? Yeah. Definitely bettin' on her." He gave a short chuckle. Was this whoever had jumped Aguirre in Brent, starting that clusterfuck the Giovanni had gotten drug into? She must've been. Seems like this Mac was a one-woman class five hurricane, wiping out everything in her path with the sheer power of chaos. "Could use some popcorn right now. What a fuckin' show." It seemed that things between the former roommates were cool enough for the moment; at least they weren't trying to beat each other's faces in. And he'd accept that for now. Still, he was struck by the fact that Aguirre sure did have a lot of complicated, messy connections with people. And a habit of having trouble follow her wherever she went. |
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| Church | Wednesday, 25. September 2013, 19:51 Post #36 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Balls are a funny thing. Hell she could've ripped them off and I could've brushed it off. They're so damn dried up I bet they're as hard as marbles. Though...no. They're still my soft nethers, probably my Achilles heel. That or my temples...bet I could get something rammed through there pretty easily. But as I lurch forward from the impact, and wince at the suddenness, It's just a love tap. My hands react independent of me, taking a fist full of her hoodie and twisting itself in the material to such tension that it threatens to deteriorate away. "Cunt. Hope you realise you're kissin' them better." I snarl in her face. It's not so much the pain that it is the insult. She was a loose cannon to the point that she has fucked even me off. Still, maybe we can keep things good natured. "I'll take that to mean 'Hey Church, my arm feels great-'" I almost try to mock her, but It comes out the same. Weathered by heaving smoking and plenty of liquor, it's spooky. My free hand balls into a fist, launching a haymaker around and into the wounded arm of the bitch. Not full strength, balls to the wall, break that motherfucker in half kinda spower - more a show of superiority, I'm stronger than you and I know where to hurt you...So shut the fuck up kinda action. I don't want to give this a woman a chance...or at the very least keep her bearings. I slip a leg behind her and slam her to the ground, hard. Now I have to put a bit of welly behind it. The hand pressed to her chest to keep her my own bearings on her before I scramble back upright and a few paces back. Bitch certainly has some tricky shit up her sleeve. "-thanks for asking.'" I continue, same lack of mocking tones, weary as fuck. "I get it, you're not property. I don't want you like that. What the fuck would I do with a ghoul?" I shrug, looking back at Aguirre. Butler? I'd go more along the lines of gimp, but don't think Aguirre would get much use outta her. Or more than she actually wanted. "I'll put a twenty on that Church dude." I tell my roomie. This Mac chick certainly is a freak in every sense of the fucking word. Maybe that's why I like her so much. I can't worry too much about 'consequences.' I just wanna have some fun. "We coulda gone somewhere quiet, all romantic an' moonlit. Had a great time with a pair of handcuff. But you clearly wanna play nasty. S'cool. If there's one thing I like more than taking a beating it's laying one down." I feel like I should undress anyway, just for the desire to keep my lack of clothing viable to wear. She ruined a perfectly good jacket. I'm gonna ruin that perfectly good face. "Your choice princess." I call out, figuring she would choose flight over fight. Unless she is as badass as I think, and knows that trading blows is a great way to make new friends. At least that's how I think, but I ain't a pussy. |
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| Mac | Wednesday, 25. September 2013, 21:23 Post #37 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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She had been aiming for the pain. See, vampires may not have use for their testicles anymore but they were still -there- in most cases, and they were still a hub and center for nerve endings. She wanted to see how he'd handle the hit, see it in his eyes when she made contact with most mens precious places. He sure had been making enough lewd comments at her while she was so fucked the other night, to make her believe they were still important parts of his person. Her arm extended over him at the same time, to turn that flask upside down and splash him with her most precious fucking toxic drink. What a waste, she could feel the sadness at it's loss. Oh well. "I'd love to kiss them better, if you can MAKE me do it..." The tone to her voice was a beautiful blend of sex and violence, the kind of woman who knew how to tote the line of pleasure and sin. He'd seen the whole package the other night, that was pretty much what she was made for. Then he was retaliating, so she could guage he was over the knee to the balls pretty fast. To bad, he didn't even enjoy it. She was hoping to bring him to his knee's, in the same way she was imagining he wanted to do to her. Maybe it was the wrong kind of pain? Either way, it was the kind she needed to send the message that she wasn't going to be his lap dog, so if he had fantasies about that nonsense he could just choke on it. There it was, the Brujah speed she couldn't match. Way to go Mac, this is the exact sort of humiliation you could have avoided by simply staying on top of the fucking storage locker. His hand on her arm made her full out hiss with the face of an angry rhino, contorting as he latched on and dug into the place he himself had cut from her bicep. It was a rather large target, he couldn't miss. She had no choice but to go along for the ride on this one, her feet swept away and her body hitting the earth with a solid thud. All she could do on the way was dump more of that precious Vodka on him as she went down, a sort of expression of sad resignment about it's loss. Her off hand went for her lighter in her hoodie, one of many hidden along her body and in all pockets. She didn't open it or flick it, or even take it out...but just took hold of it as she looked up breathing heavy from the -excitement- of his take down. Unfortunately, the after effects didn't hurt the way she liked to. He was playing -gentle- with her, and she was made more solidly than a little take down could match... So, she could call him on the fact she could light him on fire -now-, or she could keep pushing him for that fix. Not to mention, she heard Sawyer put a tenner on her. Had to give the guy at least some show for his money. She let go of the lighter, replacing it with a small knife from the holster she wore strapped across her rib cages. The descision was made quickly, all these thoughts flashing through her mind as she pulled her hand out with it's small dagger hidden within. It would bite her skin while she clutched it, but that didn't bother her none. She didn't want to escalate this to a place of absurdity, not when... So much fucking fun could be had with this god damned asshole. She rolled up her knees to her body, hands braced on knuckles above her head as she kicked out for an easy kip up to her feet. "Hey church, my arm feels great..." What? Did she have to say thank you again? She said it that night, that was more than most people got. Fuck that! That first option sounded kinda boring. Nasty was where it was all at, and she knew how nasty she -could- play, but how dirty could he? She'd launch herself the distance between them, her legs where the greatest of her strengths lay. He'd know it too, as he copped a good enough feel the other night to comment about what sort of absurd vertical leap the woman would have. She'd show him how much better her arm was feeling, as that's the hand she chose to fist into his -face- if she could. She wanted to get her legs up around him at the same time, but that was very dependent upon his reaction. He could move out of the way, and she'd just land and try and turn around in time... but when you fought a fanger with Celerity, you could never be sure. You couldn't -plan- you just had to react. |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Thursday, 26. September 2013, 18:38 Post #38 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Glee. I get a mighty powerful bout of it upon watching her regain her footing in a manner the heart break kid would be impressed with. "Fuck you and your bet, Sawyer." I jeer at my stinky compadre, starting to feel the tingles set in my extremities, a charge of excitement starting to spark away. I gotta feel a little guilty, I have a clear unfair advantage that I willfully will exploit. But given how she moves absent of a still heart, I am sure without it I would be the one ending the night on my knees. That ain't a bad thing really. If you are what you eat, I wanna be her pussy. She takes off in a flash, bolting through the air which is just the kinda crazy that could work. It's surprising, dangerous and ultimately stupid all rolled into a devilish package. It makes me shiver a little, maybe I'm getting a little playful with that fire? I'm sure that saying went double for vamps. And as much as I want a shot of pain to rattle my bones, and be ensnared by those python like legs. I think I'll pass. I dart out the way, ducking low to my right to avoid the kamikaze style crash, spinning to meet her do the same. I'm willing to bet she's as strong as any human walking the country right now. And probably could show most vamps a thing or two. No wonder Aguirre was so easily disheartened. Then again, she lacked a ruthlessness that I have. An attribute I show proudly as I send another fist at blurring speed into the small of her back. Whassamatter? Can't keep up? |
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| Mac | Thursday, 26. September 2013, 19:24 Post #39 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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Really, there was no -avoiding- that punch. And fucked up enough, she didn't even try. She was in the midst of turning around when she saw the blur coming, a rather wild grin on her face that contorted into a hiss as the punch connected. She was made of muscle everywhere, and she worked hard as fuck to keep it that way. Partially just awesome genetics, partially that she worked out more than anyone else she had ever met. She put most weight lifters to shame, but you could bet your balls she worked out in way more -interesting- ways than most lifters. She was thrown forward with the punch, and she fucking dove into it. That heated ache that spread from the impact was a beautiful burn, one that had Sawyer not had money on her for? She'd have stopped to enjoy. She did however make a little moan at the impact, purposefully teasing that fanger that was so intent on playing with her. As it was, her arms took the impact in the dirt, and she rolled forward and up to her feet in a move that Frankie would probably approve of, the girl being so into Parkour of course. She needed him to keep burning that fucking blood, because every time he pulled out Celerity, he was diminishing his own blood pool. She could possibly wear him down, keep pushing him. She wanted him to burn it all up, burn it to the point he got -hungry- for her. Hungry vamps tended to get stupider, and part of her wouldn't mind feeling his fangs at her throat... More than a little, and those thoughts were shoved aside with a sort of annoyed horror. That had to be his bloods effect on her, and she was annoyed she hadn't known him without it being there, infecting her. Would she have still wanted to tango with this fucker so bad? Would they both have had the same desire to dominate and come out on top if they hadn't met the way they had? She hadn't meant to hurt Aguirre, if she had wanted to...She would have. Infact, with the way she moved, it was clear if she had wanted to Aguirre probably wouldn't have a head on her body still. The girl hadn't even seen her, one drop from above with a machete would have made a clean chop. Somehow though, she felt like the kid needed to -learn- something more than she needed to have her head removed. Perhaps she still felt like she owed her something for those drinks the first night they met? Who knows. There was just something so fun about Aguirre she was like an impossible target to not want to mess with. How far did she want this game to go though? Was getting beaten to a bloody pulp by Church worth it?...It'd been a long time since she'd had a proper beating, she didn't count being jumped and poisoned as a beating. Or should she end it here and now and set the boy on fire? She had thought of that the first night he rescued her, while he helped walk her to the fucking Lodge she slept in. She had thought about the fact she shouldn't let a fanger with his blood inside her live, and yet here she was -playing- instead of doing what she needed to do and burn him to a fucking crisp. She would spin around, an elbow flying just incase he was following right on her heels. If he wasn't, she wouldn't be bridging the distance this time, she would let him come to her... that small flat knife slipping between the fingers of the fist of her off hand. She was bleeding from having it clutched in her hand, a slow drip of temptation. "Cut the Celerity out and I'll show you what I can really do. Cheater." Edited by Mac, Thursday, 26. September 2013, 21:24.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Friday, 27. September 2013, 20:30 Post #40 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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She takes the hit like a champ, but now I expect nothing more. She is a beast. A sexy fucking beast who scares the shit outta me. Her words make me smirk; me, a cheater? No way. I am positively insulted, but I take her point. She even flails around in anticipation of me being a breath away. Which I could have been. "Frustratin'? Sure seems like fun to me. I can get'cha whenever I wan'. I can even make your mighty fine ass look dumb." I imagine getting the occasional lick every now and again and not being able to get your hands dirty back can't be all that fun. I contemplate riling her up further for the sheer rage factor. I want her to lose her shit, goes nuts, get sloppy and fall asleep like a cute little kitten again. "Bu' I know wha' you sayin'. Your way sounds twice as fun." My voice is tense like something fierce, full of excited anticipation and the bloodletting. Only problem is, there ain't enough. I got stage fright or something? I could be getting my teeth sunk into that piece of action. Maybe some sort of apprehension, not able to commit fully to it. The tingling in my fingers could wane away if I don't get my fix. I gotta chase the high before I lose any sort of interest, whether its through concern or boredom. I'd likely get killed if I threw in the towel now, but what a way to go. Crushed by them legs...damn. I know. I have an on button. Literally, my jaw is like a switch, and a good crack to it I got no choice but to see red. As Aguirre full well knows. Not to say I completely lose myself in the fight from then on, just the ability to give a damn. Then I can just gorge in the chaos. But unlike Aguirre, who had the misfortune to catch me in one of my sudden, irrational moods, I want it. I ain't got no other vices left for christ sake, haven't I given up enough? By no means am I gonna let her take the same shot as Aguirre, cause likely she would use her opportunity to take my head off with a blow. And attempt it several times following. I take a few shaky steps forward, with teeth itching to dine. "Show me what you can do." I echo her boast, my hands held up as if to say 'I don't see anybody else' Good old Clint. "Or I'm leavin' this shit and watchin' my movie." Oh yeah she didn't see that. Still, I want to tease her into it carelessness. And ferocity. I lurch forward, sending a heavy right hay maker for her face. A hand that doesn't seem to quick to be real, but more...human. Still impressive, but hey, I'm facing down the epitome of dangerous mortals, and I can't help but grin sadistically imagining all the poor bastards she ever met. Still, how many Church's did she ever pick on? If I can lay a smack on her I'm not letting up, I'll continue to swing 'em till I get her beggin for mercy. If she screams for more, she can have more! My guard is somewhat lacking. Silly me. |
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3:19 PM Jul 11