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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 (3,120 Views) | |
| Mac | Friday, 27. September 2013, 21:20 Post #41 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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When he agreed to drop the Celerity, she fucking believed him. Maybe she'd regret that later, but something about the desire to engage so primitively just made her throw caution to the wind and -trust- him. She loosened her fingers, pushing with her thumb against the small blade inside her fist. It sliced through more of her hand in it's way, and the blade fell through her fingers to get lost among the muck of the ground. She bled more freely now, not just a drop drops but a slow trickle. The hiss of pain that came with it was to brief, and she smiled as he commented that her way sounded like more fun. "Gotta say Doc, you're particular stupid is growing on me." She with held a particularily dirty comment about other things growing in her, heavy heated gaze was enough to speak her thoughts. She had the look of a wild cat as he approached, eyes slightly slitted to focus on him more closely. She was measuring him, learning him in a sense. Who the fuck was this guy, and where the hell had he come from? Lumbered out of the darkness when she was on her ass from the Baron, and now they were fucking scrapping like two kids in the school yard with something to Prove. Fuck yeah! How did this awesome shit come her way? Then his fist was on it's way, and she was leaning back to do a reverse on his punch. Unfortunately, she misjudged his considerable speed even without Celerity and her reverse was lost in a fist to the fucking jaw, hard. It was a beautiful blinding white flash that took her down, hitting the ground a second time but this time without the roll to her feet. She hit on her her upper back with the arms flown wide, the area of the body that could absorb the most impact with the least damage. She pushed off on planted hand and twisted, sweeping her legs as quickly as she could manage, to take him down in a sweep if she was able. Her jaw was stinging like mad, had something in it broken? Fractured? It may have, she was breathing hard and heavy, a sound something like a grunted chuckle as she sought to find her feet. If she managed to knock him down, she'd be on top of him as quick as she could. If she didn't, well, she'd be trying to get on top of him again anyways, in any way she could. She needed to pay him back, hard. He'd hit her to many fucking times and all she'd done so far was to waste her booze on him. She wasn't going to light him up, penalty Mac, alcohol abuse she thought to herself briefly. Was she getting angry? Maybe a little bit, because... Fuck. There were a lot of reasons to be getting pissed off. The fact he'd managed to hit her a few times, and she hadn't gotten a good one on him yet, that was fucking a piss off. Her arm was doing a whole lot better, and she wanted to thank him for his helping her with a nice big shiner. She was also pissed that she knew she wasn't going to burn him up, as she hated to think she was getting -soft-. She was also kind of pissed that there was an audience, because she wanted to rip his fucking clothes off and take a chunk out of his neck with her blunted human teeth. So yeah, you could say she was a slight bit frusterated... Course, she was always pretty much frusterated and angry, so it was sorta her thing. |
![]() "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 | Saturday, 28. September 2013, 17:30 Post #42 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Someone's hurting. Cause she's not used to having a struggle like this. I'm sure she's all about the challenge, keeping things new and interesting and different, that's what everyone wants. But I can feel her wanting in, to sink her claws deep and start shredding. Hell if I ever met me I know I'd wanna punch that assholes face in. In the grand scheme of things, winding up a 'hunter' by making her feel lame is probably never a good thing. But if we return to this evenings theme, it's going to be damned enjoyable. Or was that the theme? I'm able to let Aguirre and Sawyer wander back into my thoughts, feeling a pang of guilt deep down as I do so. Fuck, this was supposed to be for her not me. It's interesting to think I can have such a feeling after landing such a glorious fist to the jaw. And despite landing such a satisfying crack to her jaw, she loses her footing, but with all that devilish poise and grace she puts me on my back without really knowing how. A glorious bump on the matted ground sends aching shockwaves through the core of my bones. My tongue splits open and instantly is flaring with the flavour of Church, the taste just the thing that whets my appetite for her blood. Still, it's not enough. Nowhere near. "Well-" I sit upright, about to make some smart arse comment but realising that I waited too long; I delay too long, and as I rise I can feel her shifting to mount me. And as fun as some ground and pound sounds, I am determined to prove myself the power top. She's not allowed to have that spot until I am a lot more submissive or satisfied, though if she can take it by force, all the power to her. I try to push myself upright, but already her form casts a shadow over me. Not good. Even if I get upright she's taking me back down, and maybe causing more damage than it's worth. I mask my face an arm, swinging the elbow of my other as she approaches. Maybe I'll catch her stomach, hopefully a thigh. If I can hurt those legs, slow her down and keep them weak, she'll feel even more helpless. Besides I can rub them better for her later. At least that's what I'm hoping. Cause one way or another she's on her feet and I'm not, and a knee to the face is just one of many things I predict to be on the menu this evenin'. I grit my teeth, brace my jaw in a grin as she comes. As soon as that bell rings, I don't have a soul. |
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| Mac | Saturday, 28. September 2013, 18:23 Post #43 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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There was a measure of satisfaction, and renewed control in bringing him down to his backside. That hard thus of his considerable weight making her grin as she scrambled in the mucky earth to get atop him. One match, one fucking flick of her zippo, and he'd be a crispy Fanger... And although the thought occurs to her, she knows she wont. He's also to much fucking fun to blow the lid on to soon, because this fucker might actually -get- it like so few ever do. She's on top of him, hands hard on his body for a moment as she instinctively predicts whats coming her way, and this time she fucking manages to move. She'd like to say something cocky, but the raging burn in her jaw is just to fucking much to talk through. She can grunt through it though, or moan...and she'll do all those things at the appropriate time with a grin. His form was sturdy, and she remembered the simple way he had supported her weight the other night without seeming to be troubled by her at all. Big boy had good strength in him, as her jaw and lower back knew well. She'd hold onto him with her thighs if she could, around his waist, and deliver what she hoped to fucking high heavens was a beautiful fist to his face. She didnt want him in the jaw, she wanted to give him a beautiful black eye. True, it wouldn't stay very long... but holy shit, what a wonderful little badge of Honor that would be, giving Doc Fanger a shiner. What she should have done was trap him down, and hold his arms so he couldn't fight back... but she was all hell bent on leaving him with a beautiful little Mac thank you souvenir. "Mac, how fucking stupid are you sweetie?" It was her mom again, somewhere back there the memory surfaced. "You don't punch with your thumb inside your fist, it's your own fault you broke it. The thumb goes on the outside. You'd think you'd know that by now, here... I'll demonstrate again Sugar, you ain't never seen mommy break a finger while beating you have you?" She never made that mistake again. |
![]() "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 | Saturday, 28. September 2013, 18:26 Post #44 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Well that's not a surprise. She manages to spring on me before I can follow through with the blow, simply glancing away from her. Next thing I'm falling back down, her heavy form threatening to molest and suffocate me like so many before it. Usually she's used to a struggle, and while my hands latch out to grasp at her waist, I make no effort to throw her off. Not while that first of hers cocks back and makes a beeline for my face. I still want it, but y'know, again, I'm not making things easy for her. I'm sure there are people I could pay to lie still and kick my face in, which sure sounds appeasing given how much dollar I got tucked away. Still, as it closes in and obscures more and more sight, I realise just where the fist is heading, and how smart she is. She could give me a broken eye socket, damage my sight enough that it's easier to blind side me from here on. I twist my head determined to get out of the way, the fist whizzes past the tip of my nose and connects with the earth below. "Fuckin' adorable." I growl lowly to her, my hands swiftly wandering up her brick shithouse form, balling fists of clothing at her chest. I'm almost disappointed she wasn't able to send my head spinning, fill my eyes with stars and lights. Her legs are firmly in place, and shifting my focus solely to removing them seems like I would be leaving everything else exposed. Besides, I like it here down and grisly, with a little dirty boxing on the cards. If she wants to get pissed, maybe I should give her something to really get fucked off about. I keep my jaw tight as ever, pulling her towards me all the while I drive my skull straight into hers. Literally, bone on bone, I don't wanna break her pretty nose or nothing. Already I know that technically speaking, she is better. More graceful, more agile; more traditionally trained in combat and martial arts. Not the kind of fighting style that I possess, namely throwing haymakers and being tough enough that whoever I'm fighting gets worn out first. If I can crack our heads, get her head real muddled and dazed, I'll get myself back on top where I should be. Though given how things have gone thus far, I'm guessing that would be a very bad place for her to be in. And if she knows that...she's gonna make damn sure it ain't easy. |
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| Mac | Saturday, 28. September 2013, 19:29 Post #45 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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The impact of her fist hitting the earth caused a splatter of mudd to come up and freckle all over both of their faces, a gruntedsnarl offered as she missed so spectacularily. What the fuck?! Good on you fanger, got some moves. Hey, at least she didn't break a thumb she supposed. His hands setting into her hips and then shifting up her form as she twisted to draw back, keeping her firmly in place. He wasn't shifting his hips, bucking, doing any of the usual things that she had to fight against. Fucker was taking it, and holding HER down in response to putting him down. That idea stuck a rather deep chord in her, a thrill down her spine pooling in that place of excitement below, to which she responded with a deep grind of her hips into him with the slightest hint of a noise that was -not- a grunt this time. God damnit boy. Then he was pulling on those hands on her, and she knew the moment he tugged forward what was coming. This was one of HER moves, when thing were getting really dirty. Sorry boy, Abso-fucking-lutely not! She didnt want to see stars that badly. She twisted sideways in his hands, the fabric on her hoodie at this point shredded to hell between all his grasping. That'll teach her for wearing comfortable loose clothing, better to dress like a slut so she was harder to grab next time. She threw her off elbow up, the other hand not having the recovery time from hitting the ground to react. It came up over her head, cradling her face with the point out as she tried to meet his fat head with her elbow instead of her skull. "Fuck!" She hissed, a reverb up her arm causing her to gasp with a sound that was not suited to fighting at all, and all bedroom. Edited by Mac, Saturday, 28. September 2013, 19:30.
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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 | Saturday, 28. September 2013, 22:30 Post #46 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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So here it is. I'm all psyched for impact, pulling away handfuls of her clothing, so I know the bitch can swing out the way. Or thinks. Or I think. Cause though my eyes are scrunched in anticipation, they rattle to a stop... Summit distinctly not face shaped. My skull explodes into what feels like a bone sledgehammer. She finally got me, and got me good and proper, and the yelp I spit out tells the whole story. Fucking jebus. Oh my fucking god damn. I'm sure I feel something break, though I can't tell what or on who. Maybe it's my sober streak, cause the rush of blinding pain and extreme disorientation makes me feel as high as I've ever been. It's a hot white flash that drowns out everything else. My hands spring to my forehead, clasping the cracked bone behind the eyebrow. I lose myself and her while I fall into a hideous hole of twisted pleasure. "Fuck!" I cry in unison with another, though it's feint as my senses slip away to be consumed by the darkness. The sick fuck hiding beneath the skin loves this. Mr Hyde. Sabbat Church. I don't have a name for the real me, all I know is he misses this. I miss this. I've only been sober a week or two, but I rarely got highs like this anyway. I dare let a little of the blurry world back in, slipping my hands down to my chest as my pained groans slip into a slow exhausted laughter. I bet Bart got a high like this when he got hit by a van. That makes me giggle more, rolling to view her. The she beast. My new favourite pass time. I let my laughter die away, though I keep a stupid smirk paint on. It was her elbow, go figure. "You gettin' back on?" I challenge her with a growl, though I roll away to look at the miniscule audience. "Don't let us have all the fun." I holler. I wish Aguirre could go away so I could be a disgusting bastard. Then again this night was supposed to about her more than me. The guilt can't break through the surface of my playtime enjoyment, but either way I don't know what happens next. |
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| Mac | Saturday, 28. September 2013, 22:59 Post #47 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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The impact of his fucking skull against her elbow didn't happen at quite the right angle, it happened at rather the wrong angle, his brow connecting with that ulnar nerve at just the right stop to send the stinging, searing pain right up her arm and cause the pins and needles to attack like a mad scientist on Celerity stabbing over and over. Her hand came to clasp the elbow, falling sideways off him as he fell back to grasp his forhead. She'd never slammed her nerve against the bone quite that hard before, like a nerve to bone sandwhich between the two of them. The burning sting and resulting pain pulsed through the arm, right down into her hand and crippled her fingers, the pinky and second finger curling up and twitching as she rolled a little on the ground. She was laughing. It was like an irresistable, uncontrollable reaction when you hit your funny bone to laugh it off, and this was a HARD smash. You could cry, or giggle, and she definately chose the latter. The overwhelming pins in her arm were wonderfully poignant, and she was breathing hard and trying to get up, while the arm refused to do anything at all but curl helplessly. She had terrible luck with arms, and clothes around church. Her hoodie was complete garbage now. "Holy shit! Who filled your skull with Adamantium!" She was still laughing, and she used the other arm to try and punch him limply in the shoulder when she got up to her knee's. It wasn't a real punch, as much as a 'We fucked up' consilatory love tap. Course, most people would find that love tap exceptionally bruising and painful. The angry scuffle appeared to have broken, and she looked up to Aguirre and Sawyer and Frankie. "Holy Jesus." Did she need to be running away now? She wasn't sure, eyes over to Church as he invited her to get back on top, and invited everyone else into the mess. Yeah, this was over, and it hadn't ended in someone dying, kudo's on them all. Downside, she still hadn't gotten off yet, and audience made taking this kerfuffle any further rather to exhibitionist for her. So instead she just made sure no one was going to jump her, and sat on her knee's breathing heavy and embarassed. "Didnt you say you had a fucking job for me?" Edited by Mac, Sunday, 29. September 2013, 02:16.
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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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| Sawyer | Sunday, 29. September 2013, 06:33 Post #48 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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Holy shit. This had not been what he'd signed up for when he said okay to meeting Aguirre's future flatmate. Really, this sort of made him wonder if Church was the sort of person it was even safe to live with, considering the company he kept. Was it really a good idea to stick Aguirre in an apartment with this guy? He thought about that badass polaroid from before, Aguirre with a bloody nose, fistpumpin' the sky like Rocky fuckin' Balboa, and decided that if anyone could handle Church, it was Mouse Maddox. He had a feeling she'd be flat-out offended if he assumed otherwise. Still... what a fantastic show! Better than anything he'd seen at Strickland's place; that ghoul was crazy in a way that gave even a sewer rat pause. He'd wondered if the three of them ought to just give the hellbeast and her master their personal space, so that the pair could kill each other or fuck each other or all of the above in peace and privacy. But when Mac managed to slam her elbow into Church's thick skull with an audible thunk, it seemed that the fight was possibly over, at least until the Brujah regained a few of his senses and stopped giggling. Sawyer could only give a polite golf clap and a little whistle. Jesus fucking Christ, those two were scary bastards. Turning towards less bloodthirsty company, he gently jabbed Aguirre in the ribs with his elbow. "Hey. Hey. Pay up. That looked like a win to me, huh?" Indeed, it seemed like he'd made a damn good bet. But hell, he wondered, could you call that a win? It seemed these two subscribed to the philosophy of mutually assured destruction, and he had a funny feeling that if they could, they'd wail on one another until the both of 'em were just bloodstains on the concrete floor. In any case, he felt like he had somewhere he urgently needed to be right now. Somewhere far, far away from both of these insane pairs of fists. |
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| Church | Sunday, 29. September 2013, 17:22 Post #49 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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I lie back and close my eyes, the violent throb in my brain to the rhythm of a phantom heartbeat not letting me lose this invigorating sensation. If ever there was something to bring back memories of mortality, to make me feel 'alive' as it were, it was this. Some amateurs might start getting blades out and cutting themselves up to get their rocks off, but that isn't the way. Or at least not my preference. There's something always more satisfying in having your bones buckle and crack, or having your teeth knocked out...or drilled. Or have your fingers broken and snapped one by one. Jeez you got problems. Meh, maybe. But if I'm in good company, who gives a shit? That's just what this Mac seems to be, reluctant though it may be. But it's also a slippery fucking slope with the whole straight edge mindset I'm struggling to maintain. Her 'soft' punch causes my eyes to creep open and I push my muddied form up to my ass. I assume that Ada-whatsit is a rhetorical question as I attempt to wipe away the dirt flecks across my face, only to make more of a mess. I give the ghoul, my ghoul, a look something zestful. A job? As my gaze drops from hers and down to the ruined clothing; on display is a patch of her chiseled and scarred flesh, along with two lengths of leather strap webbing out to a hidden holster and bra. Course I note how much all this looks better when her chest is heaving in some much needed air, but I manage to have my eyes lift back up "Oh I got a fuckin' job." I comment in a rough, debauched tone. I want more, of her blood, sin and bone. But I also want her for an actual job. And regardless of what I want and what I need, neither of these are viable to happen in front of my roomie, her ex roomie and a fucking rat. "Details are for 'nother time an' place. Let's just say it involve walkin' into the lion's den, an' gettin' paid well for it." I mutter with a wink before getting back on my two feet; stretching out my weary bones, before wrenching my neck to send out a bone grinding and satisfying crack. "Fuck I need a smoke." I say to no-one but myself, feeling positively gross as the soggy mud starts to seep in and share my clothes with me. unzipping the sullied hoodie to reveal the lack of clothing underneath. In fact, I almost go the whole hog and begin unbuckle my belt before catching myself in the act; I'm staring down Aguirre, Sawyer and Frankie with a confused face. What were we doing here again? "Come on shows over." I wave them away angrily; now the fun has stopped, so to have I stopped being fun. The taster was good, and I can't wait for the rematch, but for now I'm just a grumpy bastard brought back into the real world. Not even the dim ringing in my ears cheers me up now I know we should be good responsible adults. Especially breaking into a construction yard. And causing a huge commotion in the process. Maybe I'll hit that Chemist after all, if only to get some shampoo. "Let's finish what we started kids, I ain't leavin' empty handed. No fucking way, I am totally unselfish like that. I glance back to Mac, not sure where she goes from here. Homeless and insane, I'm worried she knows where I live. I'll do my damndest to keep it that way, and know that Aguirre can sleep safely without the maniac coming in and eating her. Though I don't know if I should leave our meeting to chance, even if she's got an inkling to me through our shared blood. Even if she wasn't interested in what I have to offer, I bet she'll be eager for round two. "I need a shower." I grumble. A fucking cold one. |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Monday, 30. September 2013, 02:38 Post #50 |
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Mouse
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"Hey, hey, pay up. That looked like a win to me, huh?" "Man, shut up," Aguirre muttered, pulling a mud-soaked bill out of her back pocket and slapping it into his hand with a slimy squelch. "There. You won a tenner and a handful of mud. Hooray for you." Besides the loss, Aguirre was pretty well uncomfortable. Church really did like crazy chicks, and Mac was a twenty-four count crayon box full to the brim with varying shades of psychotic. Match made in heaven. Seeing her mentor throw his stupid head right at Mac's elbow like a complete dweeb made her feel a little better about being covered in earth and publicly humiliated, because at least now she wasn't the only one. The way Sawyer fidgeted, she figured he was itching to get gone as much as she was. "Yeah, fun? Y'all go on with all that mess," she retorted to Church's holler. Fucker lost her a bet. Then he got up and she smiled at the fact he was as soaked as she was, averting her gaze as he had the sense to get the hell out of the clothes all the mud clung to. Grumpy old man, waving them about like nothing happened. So they still had to take supplies? Fine, but those shelves weren't even getting started tonight. Those boxes were going to have to stay where they were for another day, and if he couldn't handle it, he would just have to suck it up. She wanted a bath and a heavy door between she and the Amazonion. "I better find me a fuckin' a power sander or this entire night is tits," she griped quietly as her eyes fell on the shed She-hulk had jumped from. Didn't she say something about that just before she dropped her like a stone? Yeah, yeah she did. Staple gun, nail gun, power sander for shits and giggles. Rip off the cheap lock and dig in, on it! still a damper on the raid, though, was the feeling of mud cracking against her skin. She moved to get it all over with and go the hell home. Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Monday, 30. September 2013, 03:27.
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| Mac | Monday, 30. September 2013, 17:51 Post #51 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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"Get me an electric drill will ya? Need to hang ... Some... stuff." She watched Aguirre move to beat open the storage locker, feeling particularly out of place now that the whole hussle and tussle was over. She was slick with mudd, fresh and disgustingly slippery and moist. It was everywhere, and it would take hours of gentle care to clean her small arsenal she kept against her body beneath her now torn to shit clothing. That was two shirts Church had ripped from her body, both times she'd been a disgusting mess. Well, at some point she'd see that boy while looking damn fine instead or disasterous. She rose, trying to scrap muddy handfuls from her jeans. "That shower idea speaks to my soul, you're welcome to come join me Aguirre. Later gators." She grinned wildly, splatter in mud and showing a white toothy smile of mischief and mayhem. She couldn't resist one last jab. Who could? The girl was gorgeous and strung so tight she might explode with the slightest prodding, Mac could not resist such prodding. Then she was stepping backwards with a final glance, and she bolted for the opening in the fence that Church himself had made. She could jump the fence, but she was sorta like a cat, why waste extra energy when you don't need to? |
![]() "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, 1. October 2013, 01:46 Post #52 |
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The Mohawk
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Watched the whole scene with a slight frown. Sure some of the guys she ran with when she younger were a bit fucked at times, hell she spent most of her time lately, with a three legged cat, their friendly neighborhood lesbian, and Rage Face, so she didn't have much room to judge when it came to choices in company, but these two? They weren't something she expected to find when she saw her friend out for a night with friends. She just watched and smoked her cigarette, declining the bet with a soft distant sounding, "No thanks", Aguirre and Sawyer had started next to her, in favor of thinking. Her head was a frequent stop throughout every night lately she couldn't seem to stay out for more than an hour so before she was analyzing one thing or another. She dropped her cigarette as it neared the end of it's length and nudged it into the mud, out of growing habit, and it was only after a few moments of being displaced from her head and catching Mac's elbow strike, before lighting another and watching as the fight cooled down. Frankie was used to that strange feeling of being the outsider looking in. Even this close to the scene she felt it, however, it didn't bother her much considering the only reason she'd even considered coming down here was to talk to Aguirre, she had very little interest in meeting the psychos, but that didn't seem to be as much of a problem now that Mac had left. She followed Aguirre, leaning against the doorway of the shed, and said softly after a minute hoping this little bit of space would afford her a bit of privacy for this small step, "I'm sorry." She wasn't sure if she could elaborate on what she was sorry for, instead, so after the silence had settled a bit she asked a simple enough question, "So what exactly brought you here, that you need to finish up?" |
![]() OOC - Frankie's hot pink font color: #F660AB | |
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| Church | Wednesday, 2. October 2013, 19:04 Post #53 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Why's money changing hands? What the fuck they think happened here, aside from the very clear draw. Sure my heads hurting, and frankly without using my super powers I was getting outclassed, that bitch would've gone down. Get your mind out the gutter, cause as soon as she runs off, I might as well. Leaving me with the thought of Aguirre and her showering no less. Hot right? Wrong. Cause now I'm stuck without my plaything and only the guilt remains. I'll find her ass again one day, you can be fucking sure of that. But at least things didn't progress too far, cause things could've got real messy. Er. Messier. I'd be embarrassed if I actually had any shame, cause frankly that was embarrassing. Getting so horny like that in front of my new roomie and her, uh, colourful friends was certainly not a good first impression. So I plod along, searching my pockets for something to occupy my craving to no avail. I just increase the spread of mud, which makes my clothes cling to me like a gimp suit. Not that I've ever done that. But after all that excitement and then being left out in the cold, I feel like a kid who, well, got covered in mud and then cries all the way home. I have clearly offended Clint Eastwood and been cursed by his cowboy withcraft. "Someone. Anyone? Smoke...please." I announce searching around. Well search so far as to see Aguirre and Frankie make for the container. And Sawyer likely too were it not for my need to vent. "Hey, Flint, come 'ere buddy." I don't like things to get too tense, and what with the ex...um...was Aguirre? "What exactly were you sayin' about that little collision lookin' like a win?" I chide with a whimsical tone. "That right there ain't even worth callin' a fight. Then again I can't say I had my ass handed to me by a benevolent, whaddiyacallit? Klutz?" I laugh, cause I can't do anything else. I'm left a tired sort of frustrated and calm. I think that's the best way to describe it. I got a taste of the medicine but not enough to get shitfaced. All the while I'm relieved that the new faces that showed up weren't dangerous, or at least not killers. Or successful killers. I look past Sawyer at the girl highlighted pink and narrow my eyes. Or successful killers...yet? What the fuck goes on in your brain? Leave me alone, I got a headache. |
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| Sawyer | Friday, 4. October 2013, 08:11 Post #54 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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A victory was a victory, even when it was only a mud-splattered tenner. Sawyer shook the money around a bit, getting most of the dirt off, before folding it up and tucking it into his pocket with a short bow. "Pleasure doin' business with ya, Miss Maddox." As Aguirre wandered away to presumably finish the job they'd started before being so weirdly interrupted, he gave her a bit of space. It seemed like Frankie was itching to say something to her, and better to let those two clear the air on their own. None of his business, after all. Instead, he turned around at Church's summons Sawyer smirked, pulling a crumpled pack of Marlboro reds out of his jacket pocket, and offered a light and a cigarette to the very frazzled looking Church. "Hey, I ain't complainin'; looked like a nice show to me. You fought nobly and all that nice shit. Makin' Clint proud. But maybe I am a lil' biased, more into the live and let live and don't, uh, do anything that might cut your own livin' short mentality." He shrugged thoughtfully, accepting Church's bit of teasing magnanimously. "Though a fight with Aguirre ain't nothing to sneeze at! She's a hell of a lot of fun when she's angry, lemme tell you, but you can't let your guard down one bit." Truth was, he really wasn't that fond of getting into fights lately, and Church seemed to have the exact opposite tendency. Now, he'd certainly displayed that same bloodthirsty recklessness in the past, but that feeling had entirely dissipated since his disastrous experiences in Las Vegas. He wasn't nearly as interested in danger now that he'd tasted more that his share. And these London nights, he actually had a little something to keep breathin' for, so to speak. "If you don't mind me askin'... where'd you find her, anyhow? I ain't never seen a ghoul like that." He punctuated that last statement with a low whistle of awe. In his experience, ghouls had either been brow-beaten little fellas like Jhael, always at the beck and call of some pompous asshole, or they'd been the competent if strangely creepy assistants of his own clan. Sure, there were some odd exceptions like Dove who didn't seem to belong in this world at all, but this Mac? She was another breed entirely, a predator as feral and dangerous as any of them, if only because she was probably batshit insane. "And, uh, you ain't keepin' her in the apartment too, I hope? Don't think that'd go over too well with your new roommate." |
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| Aguirre Efrain Maddox | Friday, 4. October 2013, 22:12 Post #55 |
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Mouse
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An electric drill. Right. So she could drill skulls with it? Quite possibly Aguirre's or Church's own skulls? Unlikely, though if Mac really wanted it to happen, there was no doubt in the Brujah's mind that she would make it happen. The shower with her? Equally as unlikely. Aguirre had enough mud to wash out of her hair without Mac slinging more at her, not to mention, why the fuck would she climb into a shower with a strange Amazonian woman who seemed to be obsessed with handing her own ass to her on a silver platter? Setting these thoughts aside, Aguirre tore the lock off the shed door and proceeded to raid it's contents--finding herself a very new, shiny power sander, among other wonderful power tools--and plucking from the stash exactly what she wanted. She heard a small voice just outside the door. "I'm sorry." The Texan leaned out backwards to look at her pink crested ex-roommate with confusion. She knew exactly what the punk was apologizing for, but really.. It was so much easier to pretend that those last agonizing weeks before the move didn't happen, to resume being friends without talking about the whole thing. Life tended to smooth over so much more easily that way. "I got no idea what you're talkin' about, girl. Ain't nothin' to be sorry for." On the second question, Aguirre drew away from the shed with the sander, nail gun, and staple gun she'd been hoping for; she had also snagged the batteries for each, the charger for said batteries, and a few heavy duty extension cords. One always needed a high quality extension cord. A white toothed grin beamed through the grime her face was covered in. Well, I can't keep my books stored in cupboards anymore, or the fridge.. so we're buildin' some shelves. We needed supplies, and voila", she motioned her arms with the expensive tools and their collective parts all piled there. "I mean, you know how much space those damn things took up. Hope you don't mind that I left you some. Figured you might wanna read somethin' besides Fahrenheit, y'know?" Aguirre heard Church's plea for a smoke; she still had the butt of the one Frankie had given her perched between her lips, having long ago burnt out at the filter. Realizing this, she spat the remainder of the cigarette down into wet earth and continued on her merry way to the same duffel bag she'd been rooting through when Mac laid her out. She placed her spoils into it, figuring that they could use whatever else was inside, and hoisted the bag up onto her left shoulder. She glanced over the boys, who sat chatting suspiciously (from her perspective, of course) and called with the slightest hint of impatience, "Y'all wanna grab as many of those pallets as you can hold? The sooner we get the fuck out of dodge, the better. I ain't all too happy about accessorizing with mud." Edited by Aguirre Efrain Maddox, Friday, 4. October 2013, 22:13.
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| Frankie O'Hara | Monday, 14. October 2013, 01:42 Post #56 |
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The Mohawk
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Frankie bent her head forward her face tight and blank as she tried to process what Aguirre had said. She wasn't sure how should she feel about her apology being brushed off. On one hand she wasn't particularly surprised at Aguirre's attempt to throw a tarp over this ugly span of time in their relationship and let it be ignored and accumulate dust in a storage locker. However, at the same time it had taken a lot to apologize and there was a reason she had apologized to Aguirre, and it wasn't to make herself feel better. She settled for a low sharp statement, "I can't ignore it, you may want to and I wish I could, but I can't, Aguirre." She crossed her arms over her chest and turned so that her back was against the shed and she was facing the rest of the construction site, her eyes directed down at her running shoes which were going to be in need of a good cleaning after standing around in the mud letting it cake onto the soles and seep into the breathable sides, no doubt staining it. She nodded absently as Aguirre answered her question, "Shelves, sure." Frankie declined to mention that she'd already found a few of the leftovers reduced to scraps after Montag had decided to live up to his name and had shredded some perfectly good literature while the punk had been out on a short trip for Nora. Which had resulted in some of the cabinets getting filled right back up in an attempt to save the rest from her three-legged book-destroying menace. "Y'all wanna grab as many of those pallets as you can hold? The sooner we get the fuck out of dodge, the better. I ain't all too happy about accessorizing with mud." Frankie pulled her beanie back on and rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, deciding that she probably didn't want to see Aguirre's new apartment or be officially introduced to her new roommates (if that's who these guys were). "Have fun with your DIY project, I'll see you around, I guess." She scooped up a rag stopping only briefly on the downed chainlink fence to wipe away the excess mud from the soles so she wouldn't be leaving a trail of muddy footprints towards home. |
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| Church | Monday, 14. October 2013, 21:20 Post #57 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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This kid. This rat. This dirty fucking cape. "Heh." I take the cigarette and chuckle at his...well his way with words. Oh he's from the homeland, that's for sure. A wiseguy too. For someone who doesn't seem to get the itching for spilling some blood, he sure got no problem smart talking someone who just laid the skull into an elbow. Then again, I don't know how intimidated I would be by a violent jackass. He's a rambler alright, but that's alright. If Frankie rambles too, we got a god damn full house of 'em. Despite the habit that slips away each day, my hand - without any hesitation - tucks into the back pocket of my pants, peeling the mucky pocket open and pulling free the zippo. I light it without looking right at the flame, holding back the discomfort as the flame lingers. But then as my dead lungs fill with sweet polluted air, I contemplate his question, eyes drawn to the hole in the fencing she escaped through. "Would'ya believe she was dyin? I know, like what slows that down? Well apparently deadly snake venom." he shrugged. They could get into that later if need be, as Aguirre had been there and he had neglected to tell her the aftermath of that. He held no grudge like he initially had, primarily cause Mac was such a fucking bitch, but mostly because Mac held no grudge. Besides, Aguirre didn't jack her up with all that venom. If she had, I know I would be a little more careful around the mouse. "But no, she ain't stayin' with us. Unless you wanna share the fridge with her?" Wait, does he actually sleep in refrigerated utilities or did I make that up? My head is still a little woozy, I peek over to my blood cousins converse just in time for Aguirre to bark orders at us. "She's really serious 'bout this DIY shit. That's just what the apartment needs, y'know? A pepperin' with fuckin' sawdust." I grumble to the kid, heeding his words about fucking the mouse off. I'm hardly serious, but now I don't give a damn about the mess, the furniture, the nothing. We should've just gone down a floor, slipped the owners a little something to keep them snoozing, and made off with their stuff. Fuck, that's genius. Ah well, I get moving, pointing out a stack of palettes not far from the entry point to my sewer dwelling comrade. Huzzah, now we don't have to add fucking mud everywhere to the equation as well. Fucking Mac, it's all I can think as wet, misery soaking through my back and right into my mood. Though checking out Frankie's ass as she exits stage right make me remember why life isn't all bad. |
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3:19 PM Jul 11