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| Red in tooth and claw; [Nora/Tory] | |
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| Topic Started: Monday, 28. October 2013, 15:28 (500 Views) | |
| Victoria Scott | Monday, 28. October 2013, 15:28 Post #1 |
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Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.
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She was waiting in the streets opposing the pub, her back resting in the Harley. It was raining, and the only thing that was covering her clothes and skin from the water was her torn leather jacket; actually Jack's old jacket. It made her look like a child in her father's boots, being at least one size bigger than her. But she liked the garment and the rain too. As an undead, she didn't have many problems with coldness, though she could feel it crawling down her marble skin. The nights were becoming cooler, and therefore longer, announcing the end of the human reign and welcoming the season of the Kindred. And with the nights growing longer and darker, so did the shadow of the knife behind their backs, as conflict, like a strange flower, bloomed with moonlight and the inherent viciousness of her kind. She lighted another cigarette, waiting for the clock to hit the time of her meeting with the Baroness and wondering what kind of a leader she'd be. Would she be a peacemaker? Or a ravager? Wolf or sheep? Gandhi or Guevara? Would she remain quiet during the Hunting Season or would she gather her troops forward? |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Monday, 28. October 2013, 17:27 Post #2 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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Nora sat at the bar by herself, staring up at the small, silent television monitor that was fixed against the wall of liquor opposite her with pursed lips. She absentmindedly knocked on it's weathered wood surface, beckoning the old man on the other side to refill her empty glass. He did so silently, ice clinking against glass, gin splashing over the ice. She tore her eyes from the telly and gave him a small smile as he pushed the refreshed glass in front of her. Leaning forward, she fished her flask out of her back pocket and topped it off with a shot of her own shit, stirring it idly with her finger before taking a sip. It was half past midnight, and she wondered where the fuck this newcomer of hers was. It'd been a long time since someone actually went out of their way to seek her out and introduce themselves, so she gave them that, but shit... So many new faces these days, she didn't even know if half of them were fuckin' Anarch anymore. No matter though. She stretched her dead limbs and took another sip of her gin and tonic. They'd show soon enough. |
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| Victoria Scott | Monday, 28. October 2013, 18:39 Post #3 |
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Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.
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She walked into the pub 10 minutes late. She trusted the woman would come by the main door, but as her second gasper turned into ashes, she dediced to have a look inside the Tripper just in case the Baron had entered the building in different circumstances of space and/or time, like a hole in the ground of some shit like that. And when she saw the emaciated woman with her colourful curled hair sitting alone in one of the tables, she knew she was right. She didn't like bars, specifically the Night Tripper. Being frequented by Velvet, even though a couple of years before and rarely ever now, she felt unconfortable. She didn't want no moron sniffing at her conversations, specially if that moron was the one Velvet was controlling the state of the city through, but she had no opportunity to tell Nora to meet in any other place, and anyway the pub was strangely empty with only the Baron, the bartender and a few other shady customers far enough to hold a private conversation. Not like with just 1/2 territories of the North controlled by the Anarch they had much options. She approached the woman as she took her jacket off, and waited for her to notice her presence. "Nora Penvellyn?" |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Wednesday, 30. October 2013, 03:18 Post #4 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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She heard her name from her perch at the bar, "The one and only," she muttered, taking a long sip as she continued to look up at the monitor for a few more seconds. Pictures moved without words or sounds. Turning her head, Nora regarded the fresh face with her curious blue gaze, pupils narrowed to thin slits as she looked the woman up and down. She looked like Joan Jett's crazy ass older sister you didn't wanna piss off, and she carried herself like a tough bitch too. "Come have a seat," She patted the bar stool beside her, "I don't bite." "That's a lie if I've ever heard one," The barkeep said with his back turned to the two. "Ah well fuck you too, you old bat," She cracked a smile as Tory came closer, "He's got the tender sweetness of seasick crocodile. Don't mind him." The acrid smell of smoke rolled off the brute as she drew closer, permeating her senses. And rain. Was it raining outside? Maybe that's why the picture kept coming in and out. In any case, Nora leaned over the bar and fished an ashtray out from the other side, setting it down between her and her new comrade. Tattoos, scales, and fangers big enough to rip throats out were usually the first thing people noticed on her. Where would this one's eyes go first? "So, what brings you here? To whom do I owe the pleasure?" |
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| Victoria Scott | Sunday, 3. November 2013, 19:39 Post #5 |
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Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.
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The Brujah took a seat right in front of the obvious Gangrel featured woman. "Thanks. Very thoughtful of you." she said partially smiling, taking one last drag of her gasper and then quenching it in the ashtray Nora got for her. She shook at the bartender when he offered her a drink. Nora was taking small sips of hers, that Tory identified as gin and tonic. The woman had no idea how she could drink something more than blood without puking. "My name is Victoria Scott, Kiara Rivers told me about you, I hope you don't mind. I plan on staying here for a time, maybe months, maybe years, I don't even know. But if I'm making London my home I should know something about the city politics. And as I'm not going into the Prince's office you look like the right person to introduce me to London's state of the city, so I don't mess around the wrong places or kindreds." |
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| Nora Penvellyn | Friday, 6. December 2013, 17:07 Post #6 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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"Well, welcome to London." She tipped her glass to the woman before taking a sip and setting her glass down. So she wanted to get cozy and hear a bedtime story? She could oblige. Nora sat back in her on her perch and lit a cigarette before she really addressed the direction statement...or question...or whatever the fuck it was Vic..ky? Vic? Tory? Victoria was so old fashioned and proper. Not that this woman didn't reflect such redeeming qualities...gah, fuck. "Not gonna lie to you, Victoria, shit's been tense," She took a long drag and ashed her cigarette before focusing her eyes back on the Brujah, "The cookie jar's basically a ticking time bomb, but no one wants to take their hands out and give up the last cookie. The Camarilla have got people trying to rape their entire infrastructure without lube, we've been fairly neutral in staying out of it, and the Sword have gone quiet, which is... Odd, to say the least." Giving her the lay of the land would be beneficial, "You take a risk every time you step outside your door, but that's London for you. Just keep your wits about you, and you'll be fine. The North is where we have the most numbers, the East is..." She wasn't quite sure how to describe the East. It used to be the center of the Hackney Empire and was now a ghost town standing on cracked stilts. "I wouldn't go that way unless it was necessary. I can't be certain what the fuck is up with the Sabbat, but that used to be their playground. Central London, as well as the west and the south, are Capetown. You can usually drift through those parts with no problems." She settled back and smiled, "So, what brought you here in the first place?" |
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3:53 PM Jul 11